11
Express yourself . . .
Six months later
Â
A
lot had changed.
The year was now 1986.
Spring.
I was thirteen.
And I was no longer checkin' for Doug E. Fresh like that. I had a new love, Eric B., and he wanted to be president.
Daddy no longer came home. And on the nights he wasn't drunk and laid out in the streets, he stayed with Ms. Brenda, her three kids, and the two babies they had together. Daddy tried to come back to Queenie once . . . scratch that. He tried to come back twice. But, both times Queenie cussed him out, in the middle of the courtyard, and told er'body she'd had enough.
The Down South boys had the juice. They took advantage of Face being gone and was now runnin' Newark streets like they owned them.
My boobs went from a lightweight A-cup to a championship D.
My booty had lifted up where it belonged and was now full. Round. Bounce worthy.
My hair. I switched it up, and no longer let my sun-dyed curls dance everywhere. Now I wore my hair bone straight and let it drape over my shoulders.
Some things was still the same though.
Schooly still rocked that watch. Er'day. All day.
My crew was still my crew. Yvette acted a little funny and had gotten kinda fat. But so what, she was still my homie.
Munch still lived with her country and out-of-date Cousin Shake.
And no matter how she spoke, how she acted, how well she could jump double Dutch, or how many frizzy cornrows she tried to rock, Cali was still white. Period.
My crush was still the same: K-Rock. And I prayed to sweet baby Jesus that since Face was coming home today that K-Rock was on his way over here sooooooon. Real soon.
“Isis!” Queenie called my name and pushed my room door open at the same time. Me and my crew was all gathered on my bed, drooling over the pictures in a
Word Up
magazine.
We looked over at Queenie as she slapped a thigh and said, “Y'all come on out here and help me finish laying this food out in the living room. K-Rock just called and said he and Face is on they way. And folks is already arriving, so come on. I need y'all help.” She turned on her heels and rushed out of the doorway.
We all hopped up from the bed and hurried into the kitchen. Queenie had food everywhere: fried chicken, baked chicken, barbecue turkey wings, ham, fried whiting, cabbage with neck bones, candied yams, cornbread, and chocolate cake.
By the time we'd carried the food out of the kitchen and set it up in the living room, Marvin Gaye was on the turntable and the apartment was filled with people, most of 'em who lived right here in Da Bricks.
“Here they come! Shhhhhhh!” Queenie said in an excited whisper as she flicked the light off.
The living room was bathed in afternoon darkness and everyone was frozen in their spots. K-Rock's and Face's voices echoed from behind the door, as one of them placed their hand on the knob, jiggled it, and then pushed it open.
“SURPRISE! WELCOME HOME!” everybody yelled.
Queenie flicked the light on, and everybody in the room took turns hugging Face. Afterwards, they dug straight into the food.
I tried my hardest to stop blushing, so that I could finally lift my eyes and look over at my future husband.
Okay... breathe in... breathe out...
You can do it. You can do it.
Suck your stomach in.
Stand up straight.
Take a piece of your hair and twirl it with a finger.
Take another deep breath.
Lick your lips so they shine.
Now turn and face him.
Smile.
I almost passed out 'cause the moment I turned around, K-Rock's eyes locked into mine.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Breathe. Breathe.
I grabbed Cali's hand and quickly spun back around, forcing her to twirl with me.
“What the heck? What's wrong with you?” she asked in a panic, her eyes revealing that she was ready to give it to whoever was bringing noise my way.
“It's nothing like that. Chill.”
“So what is it?”
“You see that guy standing over there next to Face?”
She almost looked over her shoulder, but I caught her in time. “No! Don't turn around. Not now. He's looking this way.”
“Who's looking this way?”
“K-Rock.”
She squinted. “K-Rock? Who is that?”
“He used to clock with Face, but when Face got locked up, he fell back a lil bit.”
“Okay, so what about him?”
“He's standing over there.”
“Can I look now?”
I pulled in and pushed out two deep breaths. “Yes. But turn around slowly.”
Cali eased her head around, looked over her shoulder, and then looked back over at me. “He's not over there.”
“What?!” My heart dropped and my eyes popped. “What do you mean? Where is he?”
“Right behind you.”
My knees buckled and my legs turned to twigs. I squeezed Cali's hand tighter as I eased back around and looked K-Rock dead in his face. “Hey.” I gave him a small wave.
“Icy.” He reached out for a hug, pulled me into his embrace, and kissed me on my forehead.
Oh God, his lips were soft and so smooth. I wanted sooooooo badly to ask him, practically beg him to kiss me again.
He took a step back and looked me over. His soft brown eyes reflected my hair, my neon-pink fitted mini dress and matching pumps. “Look at you.” He smiled and gave me another once over. “All grown up.”
“I'm thirteen now.” I knew I sounded super stupid.
“How old are you?” Cali butted in and I had to do a double take. Just that quick I'd forgotten she was standing there.
“Seventeen,” he said, proudly.
Cali blushed. “All right now, girl. I see you like an older man.”
My stomach hit the floor and my heart went right behind it. I looked at Cali like she was completely crazy.
She bit into her bottom lip. “I'm sorry. I was just excited.”
I ignored her apology and turned back to K-Rock. “She's crazy. Anyway, wassup with you? I ain't seen you in a minute.”
“Yeah, I know. Been laying low. But it's cool now. . . .”
I knew he was talking, but I was no longer listening. I was too busy taking in his beautiful skin, light beard, white tee, MCM jacket, chocolate-colored Levi's, and crisp white Reeboks.
I imagined him reaching for my hand and asking me to dance. After all, Queenie just had Schooly drop the needle on Meli'sa Morgan's “Do Me Baby.” And God knows I was dying to be done.
Do me, K-Rock. Do. Me. Please.
“You wanna dance, baby?” shook me from my daydream.
I blinked and focused in on K-Rock. There was a tall, super skinny, and caramel-colored chick standing next to him. He placed his arm around her waist and said, “Hold up, baby I want you to meet my lil sis, Icy. Icy, this is Shakira. My girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? Really?
Word?
I felt like the dumbest chick on Earth. All I wanted to do at this moment was catch a rocket and get outta here.
So this is what he's really been doingâchillin' with this bird.
I glanced over at Cali and, judging by her curled top lip, she was just as pissed and surprised as I was.
I put on the stankest face that I could muster up and said, “My name is
I. Sis
.
Isis
. Not Icy. Do not call me that.” I shot K-Rock a cruddy look. “I told you that before. And he is
not
my big brother.”
K-Rock gave me a crooked grin, shook his head, and said, “You buggin'.” He flicked my chin. “Cute. But bugged.”
Shakira didn't open her mouth and it was a good thing she didn't because that would've been the excuse I needed to bust her in it. She gave me a phony smile though.
I left them standing there and walked over to Face, as Cali walked over and kicked it with our crew.
Face sipped a glass of fruit punch and his eyes scanned the room.
I stood next to him and leaned against the wall. His eyes never stopped scanning the crowd as he said, “I missed you, lil sis.”
“I missed you too. Did you get the letters I sent you?”
“Yeah. I got all of 'em. Now I want you tell me again what them dudes said when they rolled up on you. I want K-Rock to hear it.” He looked over at K-Rock and motioned for him to come over to us. He did, minus the chick. I still rolled my eyes though. Anything to keep from blushing. Face looked taken aback as he looked from me to K-Rock and back again. “Tell me again,” Face continued.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Yo, I was with my crew, walking home from school and that same Audi that we ran through pulled up. It wasn't the same dudes though.”
“How they look?” Face asked.
“I couldn't see the driver that good, but the passenger, who was doing all the talking, was light skin with two different-color eyes. One brown and one blue.”
“That's Snoop.” K-Rock nodded. “A'ight.” He nodded again. “So repeat what they said.”
I continued, “They was like, âYou Isis?'”
“And what you say?” Face pressed.
“I said, âWhy? Who wanna know?' ”
“And then what?” K-Rock asked.
“They said, âTell yo' brother we coming back. Tick. Tick.'”
K-Rock arched his brow. “Oh, word?”
“Word,” I confirmed.
“A'ight.” Face resumed sipping his drink. “Straight. We got it from here.”
He and K-Rock exchanged dap, and then K-Rock returned to his bird.
“Face,” I said. “Maybe you should lay low for a while? You just got home. I'm not saying be no punk. I'm just saying maybe you should chill for a minute. You see things is different. Daddy ain't here no more and them Down South boys runnin' the block.”
“Pops ain't never really been here. And them boys runnin' the block, for now. Only for now. But you don't need to worry about that.”
“I'm just saying you need to lay back and observe before you make a move. I don't want anything happen to you.”
He smiled. “I'm good, lil sis. And don't tell me you growing up and turning into a mushy lil chick on me.”
I whipped around and faced him completely. “What you talking about? Don't play me.” My eyes drifted as K-Rock walked by with his ho.
Face laughed. “You still got a crush on him?”
I couldn't believe he said that. “What? Me? Ill? Ain't
noooooooobody
thinking about him but his lil ugly broad. I couldn't care less.”
“I bet.”
“Anywho, let's get back to you. Chill. Just for a minute.”
“Trust me, lil sis.” He leaned off the wall and his eyes burned through a chubby Yvette as she carried a plate of food and sat down in a chair. “Ain't nothing gon' happen to me. I'ma always be here.” And then he walked away and left me standing there.
12
Makes me wonder
I
dreamed I was covered in blood and drowning.
Something was pulling me under.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. I couldn't wake up.
I was held hostage in my bed, paralyzed.
By the time I'd snatched myself out of my sleep, I was on edge.
And that's exactly how I felt all day.
Which is why I'd snapped on er'body.
Anybody who came in my path caught it.
And the first sucker I served was Face. He bolted into my room early this morning, asking me to cuss out some stalkin' hoochie he couldn't shake.
Then I had to slay Schooly for once again drapin' himself in every piece of gold that he owned.
And by the time I got to school I had to give it to my crew.
Yvette got it 'cause she complained
alllllllll
through homeroom about her back and stomach hurting.
Munch caught it because she complained
alllllllll
through history class about Yvette's back and stomach hurting too much.
And Cali got handled 'cause she cornered me, in-between classes, to drop the science that the last time her stomach hurt like Yvette's she was pregnant.
“You need to go to the doctor,” I said to Yvette, after school, as we walked down the hall to my apartment. “'Cause I'm sick of you complaining. All day. Every day.” We walked into my room and she huffed as she sat down on my bed.
“I don't need to see no doctor,” she said like I had lost my mind.
“Oh yes, you do.” I pulled a bag of weed from my nightstand drawer and dumped the contents on the back of an album cover.
“I just need something to calm my nerves that's all.” She opened the pack of EZ Wider, rolled a joint, and sparked it up. “Nana's been buggin' a lot lately.” She took a pull and then passed me the joint.
I lay back against the wall, closed my eyes, and took the longest pull that I could. And just as I let the smooth herb soak into my lungs, I heard Yvette gagging. “Yvette!” I screamed. She was bent over the side of my bed, dry heaving. “What the . . . !” I mashed the joint in the ashtray. “Do I need to call Nana? Nine-one-one?”
She sucked her teeth. “No. I think it's the flu or something.” She managed to stand up. “I'm going downstairs to get in my bed. I don't feel too good.” She took a step and stumbled.
“What is wrong with you?” I helped her sit down.
“Just my stomach.”
“You constipated?” I said, taking a wild guess.
“Maybe.” She shrugged.
“Okay. Well, just lay down on my bed and I'ma send Schooly to the store to get a ginger ale for your stomach.” I took fifty cents from my drawer and hurried out of my room. “Schools! Schooly!” I ran to his room and opened the door. “Schoolâ” I hesitated.
He wasn't there.
Bed still was made from this morning.
And the TV wasn't on.
I walked back into the hallway and peeped into each room. No Schooly. Which pissed me off all over again, because he knew Queenie didn't let him go nowhere without telling somebody where he was going.
“Now I got to hear Queenie's mouth,” I grumbled, walking out the apartment door, “if his butt is not home when she gets there. Ugg!”
“Where you goin'?” Cali yelled out, as I stepped out of the building and into the courtyard. She hopped off the back of the park bench and walked alongside me to the store.
“First, I'm going to run up in here to get Yvette a ginger ale for her stomach and then I'm going to find Schooly. His butt was not in his room and he knows Queenie don't let him roam like that. And after the day I've had, I do not need Queenie in my face blaming me for Schooly doing some dumbness.”
“I just saw Schooly.” Cali handed me a C&C ginger ale out of the cooler.
I set the soda and two quarters on the counter. Then I looked at her and frowned. “You just saw Schooly? Whatchu mean? Where at?” The cashier placed the soda and a straw in a brown paper bag and handed it to me.
As we walked out of the store and crossed the street, Cali continued, “Matter fact, I saw him in the store about thirty minutes ago, buying some Squirrel Nuts and two Chick-O-Sticks.”
“Did you see where he went after that?”
She nodded. “Yeah. He saw somebody he knew and got in the car with 'em.”
I stopped in my tracks. “He did what? Schooly?” I looked at Cali, confused. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“He don't know nobody wit' no car. Yo, why you ain't stop him or come and get me?” I snapped, feeling the urge to backhand her.
“'Cause it ain't look like there was a problem. Everything looked copacetic to me. Chill. He just probably went for a ride with one of his friends.”
“You sound real dumb right now! He's slow. He don't have no friends who drive or have cars! And anyway what kind of car was it?”
“I don't appreciate you calling me dumb! And it didn't look like a problem to me.”
“What kind of car was it?!” I said anxiously, stamping my feet. “Tell me!”
“I didn't really notice the kind of car it was. I know it was silver though.”