Caught Up (14 page)

“W
here have you been, young lady?” my mom wants to know, swinging open my bedroom door and stepping into my room. I can tell she's pissed by the sternness in her voice.

“I was out with... out with Sasha,” I blurt out.

“Sasha?” She raises her brow. “Oh really? And where were you with this
Sasha
?”

“Hanging out at her house.”

She blinks. “And where does this Sasha live, again?”

“Across town,” I offer, moving around my room, trying to avoid her roving eyes. She's studying my every move. And it's making me uncomfortable. Lying isn't my greatest asset. But it's something I'm slowly becoming better at. Concealing the truth from her is a whole lot easier than telling her that I was with Malik; that he had to manhandle an ex-girlfriend and I witnessed him getting jumped in a restaurant by her and her ghetto squad. Telling her this will only send her through the roof. Mom leans up against my dresser, her arms folded and head tilted.

“Across town
where
? And were her parents home?”

I suck my teeth. “Mom, she's eighteen. She doesn't need supervision. And, yes, her mother was there.” I purposefully don't mention where she lives, or that her mom was passed out on the sofa drunk with a half bottle of Jack Daniels between her legs.

She grunts. “Don't you suck your teeth at me. It's past your curfew. You do know that, right?”

“I'm only a few minutes late. What's the big deal? You've never had any problem before.”

“Well, before you would call to let me know where you were and what time to expect you. Anything can happen out there.”

I huff. “Dang, mom. I'm not a little girl. Fall back. I'm only thirty minutes late. Okay, I get it. I didn't call. It won't happen again, okay? Geesh. Relax. It's not . . .”

“
Relax? Fall back?”
she shrieks, glaring at me as if I've gone completely insane. Maybe I have. I have never spoken to her in this manner before. Never.

“Have you lost your mind, Kennedy, huh? Have you? You don't tell
me
to relax. Since when do you think it's okay to speak to me like that, huh? Since when did you start talking like that? I tell you when. When you started associating with that Sasha girl. I don't like her. She's a little too fast to my liking. And she's obviously becoming a bad influence on you if you think you can disrespect me in my own home and tell me to
fall back
and
relax
.”

“I wasn't saying it to be disrespectful. It's a figure of speech.”

She plants a hand up on her hip. “Figure of speech or not, it's disrespectful. I am your mother, not one of your new little homegirls you've taken up with. I don't want you hanging with that Sasha girl anymore. You understand me?”

“Ohmygod! That's so unfair! Why? What has she done to you?”

“She's a bad influence.”

“You don't even know her. She's
not
a bad influence on me,” I protest, sounding like a whiny brat.

“I don't need to know her to know that she's trouble.”

“It's all my fault. I should have called you, but I got caught up and lost track of time. I apologize. You don't have to act like it's the end of the world.”

“It's not the end of the world, Kennedy. But it will be the end of your outings if you can't get in this house on time. Do I make myself clear?”

I silently roll my eyes up in my head. “Yeah.”

“
Yeah?
Girl, you had better regroup and remember whom you are speaking to. Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Girl, I'm warning you. You had better put a handle on it before you find yourself grounded for the next two weeks.”

I bite into my lip to keep from screaming.

I pull in a deep breath. Blow it out slowly. “Yes, Mom.”

“Good. You're grounded for the rest of the weekend.”

“But—”

“ ‘But' nothing. I don't want to hear another word about it. Grounded.”

I open my mouth to speak, but she puts a hand up and shuts me down. “I said, not another word.”

I quickly shut my mouth.

“Now go shower and get yourself ready for bed. You smell like marijuana smoke. And you better not even think about smoking that mess.”

“I'm not.”

She eyes me real hard, then spins on her heel and walks out, leaving me standing here in the middle of my room, feeling like my whole world is about to end being on punishment for the next two days.

 

“She spazzed out on you like dat?” Sasha says, shaking her head. We're sitting in the food court on our thirty-minute break and I just finished filling her in on the drama that happened last night.

“Yeah, she was pretty pissed.”

“Girl, couldn't be me. My momz tried dat punishment ish on me 'n' I tol' her to kiss my juicy . . .” She leans over on one butt cheek then reaches in back of her and smacks it. “And I tol' her to kiss it real good. Ain't nobody got time for dat.”

“Ohmygod! What'd she do after that?”

“Girl, please. What you think she did? Not a thang. The only thing she could do was sit there 'n' deal wit' it. I was sixteen 'n' grown. She couldn't do a thang but get wit' da program 'n' let me do me.”

“Well, my parents, especially my mom, would never just let me
do
me.”

She grunts. “Mmmph. I don't know why not. Aren't you almost seventeen?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then you grown, girl. You better get ya life, boo. Its summertime 'n' ain't nobody tryna be cooped up in some box all weekend.”

I nod, taking in what she says. “True. But—”

“ 'But' nothin', girl. You need to be ready to hit dis party wit' me tomorrow night 'n' stop frontin'. It's gonna be fire. Trust.”

My heart skips at the thought of going out, being swept up in the music and all the cuties that I know are going to be there. Then reality sets in. And my excitement deflates. “Ooh, I wish I could go. There's no way I'll be able to get out without my mom catching me, then grounding me for the rest of the summer.”

“Umm,
helllloooo
.” She snaps her fingers in my face. “Earth to Kennedy. Who says she has to know? Sneak out.”

Sneak out? Ohmygod! She can't be serious. My mom would kill me. Then again, it's not like I haven't done it before.

I shake my head. “Well . . . maybe. I just don't want to get caught.”

She gives me a pitiful look. “Poor thing.” She plucks a French fry from her plate, dips it into her little cup of ketchup then takes a bite. “Well, good luck with that.
Annny
way, movin' on. What's up wit' you 'n' my boy Malik? You feelin' him or what?”

I shrug. “He's nice. I guess.”

She gives me an incredulous look. “He's
nice?
You
guess
? Girl, bye. Miss me wit' dat. Didn't y'all go out?”

I nod. “Yeah. We did. And then his baby mother showed up and started making a scene?”

She makes a face. “Which baby muhver?” I tell her. She rolls her eyes. “Henney ain't nothin' but a buncha mouth. It prolly ain't his baby anyway.”

“Really?”

“Girl, please. She gave it up to da whole block one time. She nasty like dat.”

I blink.
She has a whole lot of nerve calling someone nasty when I caught her naked with a room full of half-naked guys, letting them have their way with her.

I keep my thought to myself.

“But back to Malik,” she says, plucking another fry from her plate, then stuffing it into her mouth. “What you mean you guess?” She chews, then swallows. “Girl, bye. There's nothin' to guess. Dat nucca's mad fly. His swag's sick 'n' he stays on one. Girl, please. He's
e'ery
thing.”

I've heard the phrase “on one” used before many times in rap lyrics and from Sasha, but I still don't quite understand what it means. Embarrassed, I ask Sasha to explain it to me.

She gives me a strange look, shaking her head. “Girl, you really don't know much of nothin', do you?” she laughs. “See. Dat's wat happens when you ain't from da hood. You stay lost. Anyway, let me bring you into da light. It means dat you either high or drunk. But in Malik's case it means he does him 'n' he don't give a eff what mofos out in da streets gotta say or think about it.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding.

She takes a sip of her Mountain Dew. “Now out in Cali if you hear 'em say dat den it means they high off dat crystal meth. Well, dat's wat my girl Lisa says since all'a her fam from out dat way. Meth head junkies.”

She shakes her head.

“Isn't that what you use sometimes?” I ask, immediately regretting it ever falling from my lips.

She shoots me a nasty look.
Oh God!
“What,
meth?”
I slowly nod, bracing myself for what's to come. “
Bish,
don't you
ever
dis me. I ain't never used no effen meth. Maybe a li'l molly here 'n' dere, but dat's it. And I only use dat when I really wanna let my hair down 'n' just do me.”

“Oh,” I say, apologetically. “I didn't know. I thought they were the same thing.”

“Trick, do your homework, first, before you go tryna label someone. No, dey ain't da same thang. You uppity hoes stay tryna look down at chicks from the hood when you bishes do more whorin' 'n' druggin' than any of us.”

“Sasha,” I say calmly. “Please don't call me names. It's disrespectful.”

She slams a hand up on her hip, zigzagging her neck from one side to the other. “Tramp, bye. Miss me wit' dat. I'll call you what I want, especially when you come out ya face tryna dis me. You try'n call me out, then I'ma call you out, too. Trust. I don't know what kinda games you tryna play. But I ain't da one, boo-boo. So don't do me.”

I blink.

“Look, Sasha. I'm not exactly sure what I said to set you off. But I wasn't trying to
do
you. Or label you. I only asked a simple question.”

“Girl, bye. It was disrespectful.”

Honestly, I am not seeing what was so disrespectful about what I asked her. But for some reason, the fact that I've asked seems to be a problem for her. So in hopes to restore peace between us I say, “I apologize. Really. I didn't think asking a question would upset you.”

“Well, it sounded like judgment to me.”

“Ohmygod!
Judgment?
Sasha, that's the last thing I do to anyone. I swear. I accept people for who they are and for what they do, even if it's not what I'm into. I really didn't know it wasn't the same thing.”

“Well now you do.”

“I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you.”

She clucks her tongue. “Well, it sounded dat way to me, like you better than me. Dat's da problem wit' you uppity suburban
bishes,
you all think you better than us hood
bishes
, but you stay tryna come to da hood to eff our men.”

I give her an incredulous look. “That's so not true.”

“Girl, bye. Miss me wit' dat.”

She gets up and snatches her tray from off the table, storming off.

I am left sitting at the table, looking around like, “What just happened here?” while feeling completely flabbergasted.

T
hree days later, I'm at Jordan's house with Hope. We've just gotten back from the salon getting manicures and pedicures, along with cucumber and mint facials. And now we're up in her bedroom listening to Sevyn Streeter's album
Call Me Crazy, But...

Yo I wanna c u

It's a text from Malik. We've spoken a few times since that incident at the restaurant. And although seeing those crazy girls jump him made me real nervous, I still like him. Maybe I'm crazy. I don't know. All I know is, there's something about Malik I really, really like.

I smile. It's been a few days since I've seen him. But now that I am off punishment, I am so looking forward to spending time with him.

I wanna c u 2

“Hey, you want to go to the mall today?” Jordan asked.

“Which one?” Hope wants to know, looking up from her iPhone over at Jordan.

“Garden State.”

Hope shakes her head. “Oh, no thank you. I'm not up for that drive to Paramus today.”

“What? Are you serious? It's less than thirty minutes. So what do you mean you're not up for driving to Paramus? You're acting like it's an hour drive or something.”

Hope sighs. “I have to go to some Jack and Jill thing with my mother at three. Then I have ballet at five. Raincheck?”

“Oh,” Jordan says, sounding disappointed. “What about you, Kennedy? You game?”

“I can't,” I say, looking up from my phone. “I have to work.”

Jordan huffs. “Ohmygod! This is ridiculous. All you do is work.”

U gotta work?

N
O
, I text back.

“Huh?” I look up from my phone. “Are you talking to me?”

She sucks her teeth. “Yessss. I'm talking to you. Who are you texting and grinning over, anyway?”

“A friend,” I say casually.

“Uh-huh. And does this friend have a name?” Hope inquires.

I'm not ready to share with them his name just yet. “Yup. None-ya.”

“Let me guess,” Jordan retorts, twisting her lips up. “He's one of them thug boys you're so fascinated with.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

Ima kidnap u, yo.

I grin.

Jordan sighs. “That's so rude.”

I roll my eyes. “Girl, bye. Don't hate. Like you don't do it too. Let it be Howard. Mmph. You stay with your face stuck to your screen.” Malik sends another text, saying he'll be free around eight.

“I
saaaaid,
all you do is work. It's like you'd rather spend time at that ratchet job than spend time with your best friends.”

I text him back,
OK

I set my phone beside me on the bed. “That is so not true, Jordan.” I look over at Hope. “Hope, do you feel that way, too?”

She puts her hands up. “Don't put me in this. My name is Switzerland. And I'm staying neutral.”

My cell chimes, alerting me I have a new text message. I reach for it, glancing at the screen. It's another text from Malik.
IMA SCOOP U UP
@ 9. U
GONNA B READY
4
ME
?

Yes.

“Really, Kennedy?” Jordan says, frowning. “You're going to keep texting like that and not tell us who you're texting? Since when you start keeping secrets?”

“I'm not keeping any secrets,” I lie. “I was texting my manager to let her know I was sick. So we can hang out at the mall.”

“Goody,” she says, clapping. Hope gets up from the bed, shouldering her oversized D&G bag. “Well, kiddies. I gotta go. My mom's outside already.”

She air-kisses me, then Jordan, then is out the door.

“Well,” Jordan says, looking over at me. “It's just you and me.” She glances at my phone in my hand. “Oh, and your cell.”

“Girl, stop. Let's go to Newport Mall.”

Her eyes pop out of her head. “
Whaaat?
Why are you trying to drag me to that hood mall? You know I'm allergic to those type of malls. There's no Gucci! No Prada! No Bloomingdale's! No Neiman Marcus!”

“Okay, okay... I get it. You're a label junkie.”

She sucks her teeth. “And you're a hood junkie.”

“C'mon. It'll be fun.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says relunctantly, getting up from her chaise. “We'll see. Let me go put on my Kevlar.”

I crack up laughing.