Flyy Girl (10 page)

Tommy waited for Aaron after school and attacked him, but Aaron managed to duck his punches. They squared off, standing face to face, fists to fists on the sidewalk, as the other students watched with Tracy. Aaron still proved to be faster and got the most punches in. Tommy's nose was bloody and his lip was cut before someone broke it up.

Tracy walked home alone, because Aaron decided to parade with his friends about his victory. She felt better off without him. She liked to brag about him more than she liked being with him.

“MERCEDES! I GOT SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!” Tracy shouted, running to catch her next-door neighbor, who was heading up the block ahead of her. Mercedes waited for her and decided to go into Tracy's house to hear her little story.

“My boyfriend beat this boy up for me today,” Tracy bragged.

“He did? Why?” Mercedes asked, intrigued.

“Because Tommy was jealous.”

Mercedes frowned at her news. “Well, you better watch out, because after boys do that, they start acting like they own you.”

Tracy looked confused. “They do?”

“Yup. I had a lot of boys fight over me,” Mercedes told her, “and then they always get a big head.”

Mercedes left big impressions on Tracy's mind. She gave Tracy things to think about. What if Aaron did change? He had already decided to go home with his friends instead of with her. Tracy decided to watch out for him. If Aaron did or said anything that she didn't like, that would just as well confirm it. He had a big head.

Tracy didn't see him as she walked through the halls at school. She didn't look at Aaron when he did arrive. He didn't say anything when he saw her either.

The bell rang for recess, and Tracy headed to her bench with her friends. Aaron played football with his. Tracy didn't bother to call him anymore. But after school, Aaron was waiting for her.

“You want me to walk you home?”

Tracy had an attitude. “Do you want to?” she responded sourly.

Aaron said, “It's up to you, 'cause I don't really care.”

Tracy tossed her head. “Well, if you don't care, then go your own way then.”

“What?”

“I said, no, since you don't
care
no more.”

“Well, I ain't wanna walk you home no way, girl,” Aaron huffed at her.

“Fine. Leave me alone then,” Tracy shot back.

“Aw, you stupid anyway.”

“I'm
not
stupid, boy.”

Aaron bit his bottom lip and balled his fists. “Say somethin' else, girl, and I'll punch you in your mouth!”

Tracy shut her mouth. She knew that Aaron would do it. He had hit lots of girls.

“I ain't like you anyway,” he told her before walking off in the opposite direction.

“Yup, you was right, Mercedes. Aaron didn't say nothin' to me all day. And then he gon' try to walk me home,” Tracy explained.

“So what did you say to him?” Mercedes asked her.

“I told him no.”

“Well, don't worry about him. There's other fish in the sea.”

“I'm
not.
This boy named Patrick likes me
anyway,”
Tracy said.

“Yup, Tracy, I'm gon' be moving soon,” Mercedes announced to her.

“Why-e-e?” Tracy squealed with large eyes.

“ 'Cause I'm tired of living with them,” Mercedes answered sharply. Tracy listened as Mercedes went on: “All my life my father made me kiss up to him. I couldn't even go to parties and movies and stuff.” Mercedes paused and said, “Yup, girl, I wish I had a father like yours.”

“But my father don't live with us no more.”

“Well, at least you can do what you want then.”

Mercedes had everything planned. She knew she would be leaving. She had already packed up most of her things. Her mother and sister didn't bother her anymore, since she was so anti-social. Mercedes told them months ago that she was leaving. And she meant it.

Beth tried to convince her daughter to stay, but it was a waste of time. Mercedes wanted to be on her own. And as long as she found a
job and helped to pay the rent at her aunt's apartment, Mary was willing to let her stay. “I never liked your evil-ass father either,” her Aunt Mary had told her.

Mercedes had plenty of boyfriends, but she never stayed with anyone for more than four months. One guy she dated for two weeks. She dumped him after she found that he was boring. Mercedes had no time for boring guys. She was only attracted to the free-spirited type, the kind of guys who did whatever they wanted to do.

Going to Catholic school had restricted Mercedes from wearing the glamorous clothing that public school girls wore. She never was into Catholicism anyway. Most of the black students that she knew only went to Catholic school because their parents liked the discipline. It had nothing to do with religion. Mercedes figured that with a job and enrollment in public school, she would be on her way to becoming a well-dressed star while obeying her
own
rules.

“Hey, dad, I'm goin' to that Prince concert Saturday,” she told her father, anticipating rejection.

Keith sat in his La-Z-Boy chair, watching television. “You don't know how to ask no better than that?”

Mercedes stood near the television, opposite him. “Well, can I go to the concert Saturday night?”

“No. You've been to enough places this month.”

“Oh, so it's a limit on what I can do, hunh?”

“Girl, I'm about tired of your damn mouth.”

Beth walked in from the kitchen and listened.

“Well, I'm tired of you always telling me what I can't do.”

Beth said, “He's only trying to protect you, honey.”

Raheema listened from the top of the stairs.

“I know one thing. She got about one more time to talk back to me,” Keith said to Beth.

“Yeah, right, you always sayin' that,” Mercedes retorted.

Keith jumped up from the chair to grab her.

Mercedes backed away from him. “This is it, dad. I'm leaving. And if you try to stop me,
I'll kill you!”
she warned venomously.

Keith stopped and looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Girl, you ain't gon' kill a damn thing,” he said, stalking her.

Mercedes screamed as she backed around the dining-room table, “Mom, I'm telling you! Get him away from me!”

“All right then, girl. If you wanna leave so bad, then get the HELL OUT!” Keith shouted at her.

Mercedes ran through the living room, rushed up the steps and flew past her little sister.

Raheema watched in shocked silence.

Mercedes ran into her room and grabbed her suitcases.

Keith asked, “What the hell is wrong with that girl?”

“She's just hard-headed, that's all,” Beth answered.

“She been runnin' 'round wit' them damn boys, puttin' that shit in her head,” Keith responded. “Well, she can take her ass outta here. See if I give a damn.”

“She don't mean what she says, baby,” Beth said, rubbing Keith's back.

“Aw, Beth, you probably been lettin' her get away with shit while I been working.”

Beth went back to the kitchen, realizing that arguing with Keith was useless.
Like father, like daughter,
she thought to herself.

Keith hollered at Raheema, “Get your ass in your room and do your homework! I break my ass every day for that damn girl and she gon' act like a fool,” he ranted, sitting back down in his chair and facing the television. “Matter of fact, she ain't going no-damn-where,” he decided.

Keith headed up the stairs to Mercedes' room. Raheema heard him coming and jumped back to her homework.

Keith beat on Mercedes' locked door.

“Leave me alone! I HATE YOU!” she yelled.

“Open this damn door. I know what you need. You
need
a good ASS-KICKIN'! That's what you need.”

Mercedes broke down into wild tears. “Just let me live my life! LEAVE ME ALONE! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

Keith stared at her locked door, perturbed, and walked away. He went downstairs and back to the kitchen with Beth. “What did I do to that girl to deserve all this?” he asked his wife, who busied herself cooking dinner.

Beth said, “I guess she needs some time to herself. She just need to be free.”

“Free? What 'chew mean,
free?
She ain't no damn slave around here!”

Beth didn't answer him.
It sure seems like it sometimes,
she told herself.

Keith said, “I've been letting that girl get away with murder lately. I should have kept the strap on her hot ass.”

“Well, maybe that's why she acts like that now,” Beth responded nervously.

Keith stared at her for a second. “Okay, now
I'm
the bad guy, hunh?” He walked back upstairs to his bedroom and slammed the door.

Mercedes ran out with her luggage. Raheema listened to her make several trips, deciding to come out of her room. Mercedes' things were piled at the front door in no time.

Raheema came down to talk to her. “Please, Mercedes, don't leave me here,” she squealed with tears in her eyes.

Mercedes hugged her and backed away. “I'm sorry, girl, but I gotta get out of here . . . You wanna come with me?” Mercedes asked her sister.

Raheema shook her head. “No. You're just gonna get in trouble.”

Mercedes looked down at her little sister and felt sorry for her. She felt sorry for herself. She felt sorry for her mother. They could have had a beautiful home. But Keith had to ruin it for all of them.“It's not gonna get any better around here, girl. I wish you luck,” Mercedes told Raheema. She then paced to the kitchen to see her mother.

Beth said, “I've called a cab and your aunt, to tell her that you're on your way.”

Beth hugged her older daughter with no hard feelings. She was happy Mercedes had the courage to step away.

Mercedes hugged her mother and began to cry. “I'm sorry, mom,” she choked, “but I gotta get out of here.”

Beth had nothing to say. All she could think of was, “Be careful.”

Mercedes nodded and began to lug her things outside. A yellow cab arrived at the sidewalk as Beth and Raheema watched from the door. Mercedes was off to live a life on her own.

Raheema wiped her tears and hugged her mother. She didn't want her sister to leave. She wished they could all remain a big happy family. Mercedes only cared about herself. What did she know about anything? She was only fifteen. But Mercedes thought she knew it all.

Having a little brother was supposed to bring diversity to her life, but unfortunately a newborn baby in the house brought Tracy nothing but agony.

Jason cried all night during his first year with them, and Tracy was forced to assist her mother in changing him, feeding him, watching him and keeping him busy, which had severely reduced her free time.

Twelve and going on thirteen, Tracy was about to enter her last year of junior high school. She had been watching Jason on weekends during the school year because her father's work shift had changed. He had been working nights and on weekends with plenty of overtime.

Patti pissed a bitch about her husband's new work schedule, but Dave still had to pay the bills. “If his ass would move back in, he could save four hundred dollars from that damn apartment of his,” she hissed to her daughter. Dave seemed to love working, but Patti thought of it as another convenient excuse for him to remain absent from the family.

It was aggravating for Tracy to have to keep an eye on Jason while
her friends went out to the mall and to the movies. She started to argue with her mother as if
they
were married. And once summertime rolled around, Tracy was sick of watching Jason.
He shouldn't be my respon
sibility anyway!
I'm not his mother!
she snapped to herself.

“Mom, he can just sit here and watch TV by himself.”

“I told you to watch him while I clean up this house.”

“But I gotta get ready to go with my girlfriends.”

“I don't care, girl!”

“God! I'm tired of this!” Tracy huffed, as she sat and watched Saturday morning cartoons with her brother.

Patti had gotten Dave to lug the television set from the basement into the living room, so she could have something to keep Jason busy. She was not in the basement much, and neither was Tracy, so there was no sense in leaving the television set there.

Jason, named after Patti's late father, was two and a half years old and talking. He had Dave's dark brown skin and his mother's dark, almond-shaped eyes, a precious sight to see. But once he had gotten restless from watching cartoons, he jumped off of the living-room couch and ran back into the kitchen.

“TRA-CY! Get in here and get him!”

Tracy, Raheema and three other friends caught the H bus on Greene Street and went to the Cheltenham Mall. They were all anticipating going to high school in a year, and most of them were interested in boys.

Raheema, the only Catholic school student, didn't know as many people as Tracy and the other girls. Catholic schools were smaller than most public schools.

Once they had arrived at the mall, the five girls ran in and out of the arcade looking for cute boys to talk to them. Many of the boys knew Tracy from school, so she was no big deal to them, but Raheema was a new pretty face. She got more attention than the other girls. All of the boys wanted to talk to her.

After a while, Tracy started to intervene, filled with jealousy. Yet she
grew tired rather quickly of getting in Raheema's way.
Dag, Raheema's
lucky!
she thought to herself as she began to watch, spiteful of all the attention her next-door neighbor was receiving.

“Ay, what's your name?” a dimple-faced boy asked Raheema. He was standing next to a pinball machine inside of the arcade.

“Ra-Ra,” she said, smiling and backing away.

The dimple-faced boy seized her hand to keep her near. “Where you live at?”

Raheema yanked her hand away. “Diamond Lane.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. I don't want a boyfriend,” she told him.

“Why not?”

“Because I don't.”

“Well, can I talk to you as a friend?” he asked her nicely.

The other girls watched enviously.

Raheema then turned to them to rescue her from the jam she felt she was in. She asked no one in particular, “Aren't we ready to go?”

“Answer his question,” Tracy said. She was purposefully trying to keep Raheema crammed.

“Well, if
she
won't talk to you,
I
will,” Tracy's girlfriend, Jantel, interjected while walking toward him. Jantel was a deep brown and skinny. She was very forward and athletic. She was one of the fastest girls on the track team at school. In fact, Jantel was faster than many boys her age.

The dimple-faced boy stood there in a daze, waiting for Raheema to respond to him.

Raheema shied away from him and slid behind the rest of the girls.

Tracy whispered, “He's cute, Ra-Ra. Why don't you want to talk to him?”

Raheema said aloud, “Because I don't want to.”

“Dag, you stupid,” Tracy told her.

Raheema did the same to every boy who approached her at the mall that day. The other girls had no idea why Ra-Ra acted like she did. They all wished that they could take her place somehow.

“Uuw, look y'all, it's try-outs for cheerleading,” Jantel said, noticing several fliers stapled to the telephone poles. As usual, Jantel led the pack on their way home.

The other girls ran over to join her as she read it aloud. Cheerleading was a sure method of meeting some top-quality boys. And football clubs in the Police Athletic League traveled around the city to play other teams. It was a great idea. They would become an important part of a new social organization.

Tracy hurried home to tell her mother about the cheerleading. Patti told her that she could join. She had not seen her daughter that excited in a while. The first day for try-outs was coming up in a week.

It was the beginning of August. Tracy turned thirteen in September. Raheema was a teen already, but she didn't even bother to ask her parents about joining a cheerleading team. She thought it was out of the question. Keith would never let her join something so sexually suggestive, with little girls shaking their little hips and wearing little skirts while chanting sing-songs.

Tracy and her friends went to try-outs on that first Saturday in August. Thirty other girls were out for the same thing, but only fifteen of them could make the squad.

Tracy worked hard on her cheers at try-outs and stayed to watch the football players while they practiced. She was sure she was going to make the team. And she was right. Jantel had survived the cut with her.

The football players were immediately attracted to Tracy, but she had her eyes on the star running back. Steve had the admiration of all the boys on the team, and the coaches seemed to brag about him every day. Steve was going to be her next boyfriend. Tracy was sure of it.

She began to picture being with him even before the season started. After every touchdown he scored, she would wait on the sidelines and he would wink his eye at her. Then he would buy her a hot dog and soda and let her wear his jersey after the game.

Tracy expected to be the most popular girl on the team. She wanted to be the captain of the cheerleading squad, too. During the halftime shows, all of the parents and spectators would have their eyes glued to her.

Once the team started having scrimmages, Tracy asked enough about Steve to find out his age, address and the school he went to. She was not chosen to be the cheering captain, but that wasn't that important. Steve being her boyfriend was Tracy's priority.

Tracy then found out that Treasure, the captain of the cheering team, had already asked Steve for “a chance” to “go with her,” or in other words, to be her boyfriend. Steve liked her too, so he told her that he would. Yet Tracy didn't believe that Steve
really
liked Treasure.
He
doesn't like her more than he likes me. She just asked him first,
Tracy assured herself.

Steve scored three touchdowns in their first game, and all of the fans were yelling out his name. Tracy was really pressed for him then. Part of her fantasy was coming true. Steve was the star of the team.

Tracy waited for him after the game and asked Steve how much he liked Treasure. Steve was pleased that Tracy was interested in him, but he was still loyal to his new girlfriend. He told Tracy that he liked Treasure a lot. Treasure even wore his jersey.

Tracy was on regular speaking terms with Steve after the second game. He began to notice Tracy a lot, but he still “went with” Treasure, or in other words, was still her boyfriend.

Tracy began to hint to Steve that she liked his number. Steve would always smile and fall silent instead of responding to her. He realized what Tracy was hinting at. She liked him, and she wanted to wear his jersey instead of Treasure. Tracy was slowly but surely wearing Steve down.

After their third game, which was played at their home field, Tracy noticed him walking home by himself. Steve's friends had remained behind to watch the older boys play.

Tracy debated whether she would talk to him or not. It was still early that Saturday afternoon, and his girlfriend, Treasure, was nowhere to be found. Once Tracy decided that she would, she left Jantel and ran off to catch up to him.

“Hi, ‘Stevie.' Are you going home already?” she asked him from behind.

Steve was as brown as Tracy's brother Jason, and his low haircut made his perfectly rounded head look like a well-roasted peanut. He held his Wilson helmet in his hand.

“Yeah,” he told Tracy with a smile. Tracy's assertiveness made him seem bashful.

“Why?” she asked him.

“Because, I have a homework assignment to do. I have a science project that I have to turn in on Monday.”

“Oh,” Tracy perked, remembering that Steve attended an advanced private school. Yet she failed to believe that he was that dedicated to doing homework on a Saturday. “Walk me home, Steve. Please,” she responded to him.

Steve resisted her. “Well, I wanna finish my project today, so I can watch football tomorrow. The Eagles are playing Dallas,” he told her.

Tracy grabbed onto his arm. “Aw, come on, Stevie. Please. I don't live that far.”

Steve let out another bashful smile. “Okay.”

Dag, that was easy,
Tracy thought to herself. She had expected to do more begging.

“So you still go with Treasure?” she asked him as they began to walk.

“I don't know,” Steve answered. Treasure had not been paying him much attention after the second game. She didn't even wear his jersey anymore.

“Well, do you still like her?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He sounded like he had said it out of obligation.

Tracy pressed him, smiling in her blue and gold uniform. “Do you like me?”

Steve grinned and said, “Yeah.”

I got him!
Tracy told herself. She giggled, filled with self-assurance. He had given her the confidence she needed, and Tracy was set to go for the kill.

“Let me see your helmet,” she said, reaching out for it.

Steve gave it right to her. Tracy took it and smiled. She then accidentally dropped it on the ground while trying to hold it erect. Steve picked it up and made sure it wasn't broken.

Tracy felt embarrassed by her clumsiness. “I'm sorry,” she told him.

“Don't worry about that. This is a good helmet,” Steve responded. He beat on it with his right hand and said, “See?”

Tracy looked at him with sparkling hazel eyes as the sunlight hit them dead on. Steve shied away to avoid their magnetism.

Tracy could tell that he was nervous. “So are you gonna quit Treasure and go with me, Stevie?” she asked him bluntly. She could tell that Steve was a pushover.

He hunched his shoulders, still not looking Tracy in those scary eyes of hers. “I don't care.”

“Well, can I hold your jersey? I'll wash it for you and everything,” Tracy told him excitedly.

Steve
wanted
to say “no,” but he couldn't overcome Tracy's persistence. “Yeah, you can hold it,” he said, reluctantly, “but don't mess it up. And don't lose it, either.”

He took his blue jersey, with gold numbers trimmed in white, right off of his back.

“Thank you, Stevie. You so nice,” Tracy cheered, pinching his brown cheeks.

Steve cracked another smile.

Tracy then jumped onto his back, turning him into a horse. “Give me a piggy-back ride.”

“Okay,” he agreed, straining to carry her weight. “Let me put my helmet back on first.”

“Okay. I live right up the street,” she lied to him. She actually lived
two
blocks up.

Tracy smacked Steve on his helmet as he walked with her on his shoulders about halfway to the corner before putting her back down.

“Why you stop?”

“Because my back is hurting.”

“Aw, boy, I thought you was a strong running back,” Tracy huffed at him, disappointed.

“You can't tackle me,” Steve said, teasing her.

Tracy retorted, “I don't wanna tackle you.” She expected for Steve to get angry and stand his ground after a while, but he was already under her spell.

“Tracy, I have to go home now. Okay?” he told her, once they had reached her house.

Tracy rolled her eyes at him. “NO! I didn't say you could go home yet.”

Steve pleaded, “I have to though. I have something to do.”

“Well, go ahead then. See if I care, boy,” Tracy warned him, childishly.

Tracy was dying for Steve to reject her so she could at least have a challenge. But he simply couldn't. Tracy was too much for him.

“All right, I'll stay,” he whined.

Tracy made Steve sit out on her steps while they played with her little brother until the sun started to go down. After realizing that her daughter was holding the boy hostage, Patti finally sent Steve home. Tracy then walked him to the corner and punched him in the arm. Steve told her he could take it and walked away giggling.

Tracy skipped back up the block, pleased with how easy it was to twist Steve around her pinky-finger. “I can make him do whatever I want,” she said to herself with a devilish grin.