A Girl Like Me (14 page)

Track 19

“E
lite,” Naja whispered as we sat in the back ofthe bus on our way to school. “I heard that Ciera is pregnant.”

“She's what?”

“Pregnant.”

“By who?”

“Jahaad.”

“Jahaad,” I said surprised. I knew we weren't together any longer, but still—pregnant. I didn't exactly know how to feel about that. It wasn't like Jahaad acknowledged me anymore, but still…pregnant. “Whatever,” I waved my hand. “Who cares?”

“That doesn't bother you?” Naja looked at me.

“Girl, please. Do I seemed concerned?” I said as I pressed the buzzer for the bus to stop.

“No, you seem ai'ight. But me, humph,” she said as we stepped off the bus, “I would be pissed.”

“Well, I guess that's you,” I snapped. “Whatever.”

Naja shook her head. “Well, at least she don't have no hee-bee-gee-bees.”

“Yeah, right?” I laughed. “She could have the cooties.”

“I know!” Naja laughed. “Right!”

“Played-out asses!” I said and we cracked up even more, as we reached the school's double doors.

“They are so retarded,” Naja said as we walked in. But instantly the entire hallway was quiet, with the exception of Samantha and Mecca, who were laughing with Ciera and Jahaad.

I looked at Naja. “I told you they were two-faced.”

“Why is everybody so quiet and staring at us?” she asked as we walked quietly down the hall.

“I don't know, but what the heck are all these?” I snatched one of the thousand pieces of paper that lined the hallway walls. Naja followed suit and we started reading the article together:

I fell against my locker. I couldn't believe this was happening. I looked around and everyone except Naja—who'd walked over to Mecca and Samantha and started cursing them out—was laughing. I felt like grabbing my bags and running out, but I knew if I did that, these chickens would think they had the best of me. So although I wanted to leave, and I had to get the hell out of there, I couldn't just bolt through the doors like a bat out of hell. I had to serve these fools first, and then I could leave and cry in peace.

I walked over and stood by Naja. “I got this boo-boo,” I said to Naja, loud enough for everyone who wanted a show to know they were about to get one. “Let me just shut all y'all down real quick. Every last one of y'all either tryna be me—or tryna get with me—” Then I turned to Jahaad and said, “So you really think I give a damn about whatever lie you sold some punk ass paper? What, you jealous, 'cause Haneef don't want y'all crab-infested jump-off behinds?! Look at you, talkin' about who's a crackhead. Who get high and drunk more than you two?”

Then I pointed to Mecca and Samantha and said, “Don't say shit to me ever again! And Ciera, word you a ho and everybody knows it. What, you think you got a prize with Jahaad? Mr. Itty Bitty?! Girl, please, lose yo'self. Matter fact—” I turned to Naja as I felt the tears hiding behind my eyes ready to buckle—“I got more important things to do. I'm outta here. Call me later.” I kissed her on both cheeks, threw up a peace sign, and sashayed out the door.

I was thanking God I saw the bus was coming as soon as I stepped out of school, though I knew it wasn't the right bus to get me home. Actually, this bus was headed to New York City, but I didn't care. I needed to get someplace where I could shrink and disappear.

By the time I stepped on the bus, tears had escaped down my face. I paid my fare and made my way to the back, thanking God again that the bus wasn't crowded. I walked to the back, crouched in a corner seat, held my head down, and silently cried myself into oblivion.

When I looked up, the driver announced the last stop and pulled into Penn Station. I wiped my face, got out of my seat, and exited the bus.

I wandered around for about an hour, wondering mostly what I was going to do with my life, especially now that I'd been exposed. I had nothing. And yeah, I had a rich and famous boyfriend, but what did it mean if he didn't even know the truth?

I continued to walk a few blocks more and then my cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Elite.” It was Haneef. “Where are you?”

“Why? What you wanna do, break up with me?”

“No,” he said. “All I wanna do is talk to you about what I read in
Hip-Hop Weekly
today. I've been screening calls all morning. Everyone is asking me if this is true.”

“Why, it'll mess up your image, is that it? Know what, Haneef”—I looked at the billboard poster of his CD cover—“let me make this easy for you. It's over. I'll catch you around.” And I hung up.

Immediately my phone rang. “What?!” I screamed and immediately attracted a group of onlookers.

“Don't run away from me. Where are you?”

I sighed. “In the city.”

“Come see me.”

“Haneef—did you hear me? I said we were over.”

“Naja, you don't believe that.”

He was right. I didn't believe that. “Okay, Haneef. I'm on my way.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not.”

I hailed a cab and twenty minutes later I was at Haneef's apartment. I thought about what I would tell him, because I knew if I told him the truth, he would want to know why I'd lied to him the whole time. A question I couldn't really answer.

I told security who I was and they rang Haneef to let him know I was there. By the time I got to his apartment, I felt like a scared little girl. And I hadn't felt like that in a long time, because for the longest while, I always felt grown.

While I was standing at his door, I was determined to tell him, “Look, this is my life. Either take it or leave it.” At least I was determined to do that until he opened the door and pulled me into his embrace.

I was trying to speak, but my tears muffled my voice to the point where all that could be heard were my sobs.

“Shhhh…” Haneef said, closing the door behind me. “Stop crying.”

“But…”

“Shhhh…we'll talk about this later.” He kissed me and I kissed him back. We continued to kiss passionately and before I could tell Haneef to stop, or before I could decide if I wanted him to stop, he was undressing me and I was undressing him…

Track 20

W
hen I awoke, the sun was shining brightly in my face, and that's when I realized I'd been at Haneef's all night. Immediately my heart thundered in my chest.

“Haneef.” I shook him as he lay next to me in bed. “I gotta get up.”

“Ai'ight,” he threw his arm over my waist. “In another hour.”

“No, now.” I shook my head, feeling tears knocking at the back of my eyes. “You don't understand! I have to leave. My brother and sisters are alone!”

“Isn't your mother home, Elite?”

“No!”

He sat up and pressed his back against the headboard. “Tell me the truth—and don't lie to me. Is your mother recovered, like you told me and the reporters yesterday?”

Silence.

“Why do you keep lying to me!” he screamed at me while shaking my shoulders. “Tell me the truth! That's the only way I can see how to help you!”

“I don't need your help! I can do this on my own!”

“Elite, you're only seventeen!”

We were in a screaming match. “So! What does that mean? I've always taken care of my brothers and sisters. I'm the oldest, and when my mother got on drugs so bad that she was selling the food out our house, it was me who forged her signature to get a job. It was me who went to all their plays. Me who paid for their school pictures. Me who took care of them when they were sick, and signed their report cards. Me! I told you before I've always been grown, so I need to go because they need me. Please, take me home.”

Haneef wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me. I pushed against his chest. “Let me go.”

“No.” He squeezed tighter.

“Haneef, please,” I cried. “Let me go.”

“I wanna help you.”

“No, I can do this.”

“Elite, I care so much about you. Come on, please let me do this with you.”

“You care that much about me?”

“Look,” he said as he pushed my hair away from my face, “remember when I told you my mother worked all the time and I was always with my brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it was because my mother was on drugs. She got high and so did my dad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I never heard that.”

“Because I was embarrassed, but not anymore. If it means helping you, then I'll give interview after interview. But you can't go through this alone, because you are not alone.”

“Did they…do they…”

“What? Still get high?”

“Yeah.”

“No. They got help. Both of them went to rehab and now they're clean. They have a lot of programs for addicts here in the city. They can help your mother if she wants to be helped. But she has to want to be helped.”

“I'll tell her.”

“No, she has to want to.”

“But I want her to get clean.”

“But she has the drug problem, not you.”

I sat silently. I'd never thought of that. I knew I didn't get high, but I still felt like…I needed to get help. But for the first time in my life, I realized my mother was the only one who could stop herself from getting high.

Track 21

I
t was six in the morning and I realized that the more days that passed, the more my life was coming apart at the seams. I always thought I would have it all together, and that no matter what, I'd be able to take care of my brothers and sisters. But with Ny'eem in jail, I felt like all I did was fail. Especially since whenever he called the house and told me how badly he wanted to come home, the only thing I could do was cry.

I got out of bed, woke the twins and Mica, got us all ready for school, dropped them off, and returned to hell's dungeon, also known as Arts High. As I approached the entrance, I saw one of the flyers from
Hip-Hop Weekly
, which spilled my life's secrets, being whipped along the sidewalk by the wind. I started to grab it and rip it to shreds but I didn't, because at that moment—true story—I didn't even care.

“Elite!” Naja said, running up behind me. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said somberly. “I'm straight.”

“We gon' return those clothes tonight?” she asked as we headed to class.

“Yeah, I think we need to.”

I was quiet most of the day, other than saying what I had to to my teachers about my schoolwork.

A few hours later, when school ended, Naja and I headed to work. Thelma was nowhere to be found, and the crew who had worked the shift before us had left as soon as we arrived.

“And you're so quiet because…?” Naja said as we slyly returned the clothes we'd been “borrowing.”

“No reason,” I said. “But you know I'm not doing this anymore.” I turned and gave her emphasis with my eyes. “This stealing and shit is not for me. And another thing, like…we never really got to talk about it, but that going out to the club and getting drunk was not cool.”

“Don't you think I know that?” she snapped. “Heck, I'm the one on lockdown forever.”

“And you got what your hand called for, too.” I handed her a plastic hanger, for her next outfit. “You need to calm down, Naja, and stop giving into peer pressure—”

“Peer pressure. Excuse you, Grandma,” she said sarcastically.

“Call me whatever. Do you know you can die from drinking too much? Like, do you really understand that a lot of people could have gotten into trouble if you had been caught drinking?”

“Elite, but—”

“No buts, 'cause I'm so serious, Naja. You need to get it together, for real. Because I'm not going along with that craziness anymore, ai'ight. So whether it's ‘borrowing clothes' or ‘getting drunk at the club,' count me out.”

“You really mean that?”

“Yes, look—I've had drugs and shit ruining my life, which is why I try to stay away from them. And I don't want the people I love gettin' high, drunk, or having to go through anything that I have. Which is why I'm saying, all of this”—I waved my hand over the clothes—“is a wrap for Elite Juliana Parker.”

“Awwl, Elite, you love me?” she gave me a goofy smile.

“Of course I do. We're best friends, but if you try that shit you did at the club, our friendship is a wrap.”

“Whatever,” she laughed. “But as far as this ‘borrowing clothes' stuff, I can't handle the pressure either, especially with Thelma suspicious.”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.”

It took us an hour to return everything, and as we placed the last item on the rack, Thelma and two male customers walked in. “Elite, Naja,” she said sternly, “I need to see you.”

“Now?” I said. “Or when we are about to close?”

“Now. Right now.”

Naja sighed. “Thelma, if we leave no one will be watching the floor.”

“Oh,” Thelma said snippy. “I have someone watching the floor at all times.”

“If you say so,” Naja said as we followed Thelma to the back of the boutique. I noticed the men, who I thought had been customers, were coming behind her.

“Who are they?” Naja mumbled under her breath.

“I don't know,” I mumbled back.

“Excuse me, Thelma. What's going on?” I asked her while looking at the men suspiciously.

“You two have been stealing from here,” Thelma said without hesitation, “and I am pressing charges.”

“Huh?” Naja and I said simultaneously with surprise. My heart thundered in my chest and immediately my throat clogged. But then again, maybe I heard wrong. “What did you say, Thelma?”

“Don't try and lie!”

“Lie about what?” Naja protested.

“Stealing!”

“Huh?” Naja and I said simultaneously again.

“Don't huh me,” Thelma snapped. “I was so hurt and disappointed when I found this out, I absolutely couldn't believe it was you two. But then you tried to take the tape out…” She shook her head in disgust.

“Thelma—”

“Be quiet, because you're about to lie.”

“I wasn't.”

“Stop it! Because what you didn't know is that there is a backup tape. Where I was able to see the whole thing.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I'm really disappointed in you two. I thought you were the best workers I had. And Elite, you were the assistant manager. Why would you do this?”

I started to tell her that it was because I was stupid, but quickly changed my mind.

“It wasn't Elite,” Naja said. “It was me. Don't arrest her, arrest me.”

“Naja,” I said and jerked my neck in surprise. “It wasn't just you. It was both of us.”

“No, it was my idea.”

“Whoever's idea,” Thelma interrupted, “it doesn't matter. You can figure that out when you get to court, but you're both being arrested.”

“Thelma—” I attempted to speak to her again.

“I don't want to hear it.”

“Let me explain—”

“Explain it to the judge!” she said as the men, who we soon discovered were Short Hills police officers, grabbed us by the wrists and twisted our arms behind our backs. Naja started to scream and cry, while tears rolled silently down my cheeks. It's no way life got any worse than this.

“You have the right to remain silent…” The officers read us our rights while handcuffing us. Afterwards, they escorted us out the back entrance of the mall to their police car, where we were pushed into the backseat.

Handcuffed and on our way to the precinct, I looked out the window and stared at the reflection of myself. I knew stealing was wrong, but I never thought I would get arrested. I had no idea what I was gonna do because, unlike Naja, I didn't have a mother and father who would come and pick me up.

Once we arrived at the police station, we were placed on a wooden bench, handcuffed to it by one hand, and instructed to use the other hand to call our parents. If they didn't come get us within the hour, we'd be hauled to downtown Newark to the Youth House.

Tears filled my eyes as I stared at the phone, 'cause I didn't have even one number to call.

“I'ma—I'ma—” Naja stuttered, “die.”

“Would you stop crying so loud?” I looked at her like she was crazy. “But then again, keep it up and maybe they'll put us out for being cry babies.”

“You cracking jokes. I'm about to die, and you're telling jokes.”

“That sounded like a joke to you? Please. But what happened to you being all tough?”

“I was okay until they put handcuffs on me…now I want my mommy.” She began to wail again. “My mother and father gon' kick my ass. They raised me better than this. And here I am, disgracing the family.”

“Naja—”

“My mother,” she sobbed, “my mother…she already told me I was lucky to have survived the car situation, and now this.”

“At least you have someone to call. Please, my mother is out roaming the streets.”

Naja was silent for a moment, then wailed even louder. “We both jacked up…. awwl! Lawd, helpus. I'm sorry, Elite. We in a hot mess! Why couldn't Thelma just have us do the dishes. What happened to those days?”

“Naja, please,” I said as she nervously picked up the phone and called her parents. “Mommy—Mommy,” she stuttered. “I have something to tell you!”

“What?” I heard Neecy scream through the phone.

“They may be putting me on death row. Life as we know it,” she wailed, “awwll no! Jeeeeeesussssss! Life as we know it may never be the same. I love you,” she continued to cry. “Fight for world peace, fight against hunger, vote for Obama, and be strong for me.”

God, how I wanted to smack her in the back of her head. “Ask them to come get you, fool!”

“Oh, yeah”—she wiped her eyes—“can you come and get me from the Short Hills police station? We got into a li'l itty bitty situation.”

“What?” I heard Neecy scream.

“Don't panic, Ma.” Naja had the nerve to try and reassure somebody. “It's not what you think. Thelma just didn't like us borrowing clothes from the boutique and not exactly telling anyone.”

I could've sworn the phone flew off Naja's ear, because all I heard was a buncha screaming and Neecy saying over and over again, “You just wait 'til I see you!”

When Naja hung up, she shook her head.

“What did she say?”

“She said that tonight may be the night she gives me up for adoption.”

“Well, hell.” I placed my chin in the palms of my hands. “I know I'm doomed then.”

This had to be the worst, especially since I didn't know what my fate would be. At least Naja had someone to call. Me, well I would have to deal with whatever came my way.

“Where are they at?” soon screamed its way through the precinct.

“You go ahead on home,” Naja said, “and pretend you're me. I'ma just chill out here for a li'l while.”

“Naja!” her mother screamed. “I'ma beat the junk out of you!”

“Neecy!” her father snapped. “You gots to chill.” Then he looked at Naja and said, “I'ma whup yo' ass!”

Dang, I ain't never heard him say that before.

“Naja!” Neecy screamed. “You hear me talking to you?”

“You have reached…” Naja said, sounding like a computerized operator, “a number that is no longer in service.”

“Oh, now you out of order?! Yo' ass shoulda been outta order when you and Elite were up there at ya job stealing those clothes. I promise you I won't leave neither one of y'all alone in my house anymore! Buncha skutter-buttah thieves! And here Mom-Mom was watching TV and said somebody who looked like you two robbed a bank she owned. Now I'm really starting to think it may have been you two.”

“Ma'am,” one of the officers said. “Which one are you coming to get?”

“Both of them,” she snapped.

I blinked in disbelief.

“They're both your daughters?”

“Yeah.”

After Neecy signed a few papers, Naja and I were released. Naja was visibly shaken, while I was just relieved to be getting out of there.

As we drove, Neecy continued to go off, some of it I heard and some of it I didn't. “Maybe you two,” she said as we pulled in front of my building, where I noticed there were fire engines, “don't need to be best friends. Cause every time you're together, something horrible happens.”

I was too busy trying to figure out what the fire engines were doing, and why I could've sworn I heard Mica crying, yet couldn't find him, to pay much attention to what Neecy had to say.

I didn't even acknowledge her statement. Instead I got out of the car and walked toward the entrance of my building. “Elite,” Neecy said as she and Naja walked behind me. “What is going on here?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, we gon' find out.” She grabbed me by my hand and led me into the building, where I spotted two social workers, taking the twins and Mica with them.

“What's going on?” I yelled, tears bubbling in my eyes.

“Are you Elite?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you have to come with us.”

“And why is that? And where are you taking these children?” Neecy demanded to know.

Mica and the twins were crying and screaming at the top of their lungs, trying to reach for me, but the social worker held them back.

“Let me talk to them!” I yelled.

“Calm down,” one social worker insisted.

“I'm not calming nothing down! Let me talk to them.”

She allowed them to come to me and they all ran, hugging my legs. Neecy started talking to the social workers while I wiped my brother and sisters' tears and asked them, “What happened?”

“You were late,” Aniyah cried.