Kendra (5 page)

It’s Luther’s voice that wakes me up. The music is coming from the living room, reminding me that Renée is really home, that last night actually happened.

It’s only a little before seven, but when I finally get outta bed and down the hall, I see that Renée is already dressed, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. She’s packing and singing loud and off key, “
You are my shinin’ star, my guiding light, my love fantasy
.”

I lean against the wall watching and can’t help but smile because she loves to sing but can’t do it to save her life. I mean, she’s really, really bad. But she don’t hear herself like the rest of us hear her.

The living room is a mess. Renée’s suitcase is open on the floor by the coffee table, but most of her clothes are still thrown over the back of the chair. And the blanket and sheets she used are rolled up at the end of the couch, while the pillow is on the floor.

Not that there’s anything new about this. The living room
always gets this way when she comes to visit because, really, there isn’t any room for her in this apartment anymore. I sleep in her old bedroom, in the same bed she used to sleep in. As a matter of fact, practically everything in that room used to be hers. The dresser, the desk, everything.

Hopefully, when Renée finally gets us a place of our own, I can get some new stuff, kinda like what Adonna got a couple of months ago, a whole new bedroom set. I mean, assuming Renée is gonna make that kinda money at her new job.

The kettle whistles and Renée rushes past me with a quick “Hey, Babe” and goes into the kitchen to turn it off. I follow her in there and see her pouring water into a bowl of oatmeal. I can smell my favorite flavor, apples and cinnamon, and for half a second I think she’s making the oatmeal for me, but then she stirs it and licks the spoon, and I know it’s hers. She takes the bowl to the table, sits down, and starts eating. When I go over to the counter, all that’s left in the variety pack are the plain ones.

I don’t say anything to her. I just close the box and put it back in the cabinet. Nana will eat the plain ones because she can’t stand to waste anything. I need to get dressed, but Nana’s still in the bathroom. So while I’m waiting, I go into the refrigerator and grab a yogurt. I sit down next to Renée and, while I’m still licking the inside of the foil lid, she starts questioning me about my grades. Before I know what’s going on, she’s lecturing me.

“It’s almost the end of the school year, Babe,” she tells me, like I don’t know that. “You need to put all your energy into bringing your average up. I know you think it doesn’t matter,
but colleges look at all your grades, even from freshman year. And don’t you want to get into a good college?”

Like I’m even thinking about college already.

“My grades are fine,” I say.

“Fine isn’t good enough.” Her face is so serious, too. “Anybody can get fine grades. Don’t you want to stand out?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Renée kinda shakes her head, and inside I feel like I’m missing something. Like me and her aren’t really talking to each other. Not like we were last night. And I don’t know what changed.

By the time I get dressed, Renée is in the living room on her cell phone, laughing with somebody about something that happened last night. Nana is in the kitchen having breakfast. I go in there and pour myself a glass of apple juice, the little Renée left in the container, and remind Nana that I’m gonna be late again today because of dress rehearsal.

“Dress rehearsal?” she asks, and I can’t believe it, but she actually looks all confused like she don’t know what I’m talking about. Never mind the fact that I told her about this at least ten times already. Sometimes I don’t know about her. I kinda think she’s too young to have Alzheimer’s, so probably she’s just forgetting things on purpose.

But it’s kinda annoying, especially so early in the morning. “You know,” I say real slow, trying to be patient with her. “We’re running through the whole show with costumes and set changes and all that. Then we’re having a pizza party. Remember?”

She sighs, aggravated. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Nothing. Kenny gave me the money last week. It was only five dollars, anyway.”

I know Nana would like to complain about Kenny more than she already does. But she can’t. Everybody knows Kenny don’t have a dime to his name, and still, every couple of weeks, there he is at our door with his little envelope for Nana. It’s never a whole lot of money, only about thirty or forty dollars at the most, but even she knows it’s the best he can do.

“Okay,” Nana says. “Just don’t be out there to all hours of the night.” She drinks a little of her green tea and makes the face she does after every single sip. It’s crazy. The only reason she even started drinking the stuff is because Oprah said it’s supposed to be good for you. After she heard that, she started making herself drink it twice a day, every day. Morning and night. Funny thing is, she always has a big slice of Entenmann’s pecan danish with it, so it’s probably not gonna improve her health all that much, in my opinion.

“I’m gonna come home as soon as it’s over,” I tell her in that goody-goody way that always makes Adonna laugh. “
Straight
home.”

Renée comes back into the kitchen to throw something in the garbage, still singing along with Luther.

“I better get going,” Nana says, finishing her tea and making the face again. She gets up from the table and puts her dishes in the sink. “Clyde is picking me up and I don’t need to have that man out there waiting for me.”

Me and Renée glance at each other and then look away fast so we don’t bust out laughing. And it’s a lot of work, too. Nana rushes outta the kitchen and opens the hall closet. Then, like
two seconds later, she has her jacket on and she’s flying outta there. “Bye, girls,” she says, then don’t even wait for us to say bye back.

That’s when me and Renée lose it. We’re laughing for a good two minutes. Hard, too. “I can’t believe that’s my mother,” she says. “The woman’s acting like a teenager, all giddy and shit.”

“I know,” I say. “It’s weird.”

“You think she’s in love with this guy?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. You ever seen her in love before?”

Renée shakes her head. “Never.” Then her cell phone rings again and she runs into the living room to get it.

I throw away the apple juice container. Then, while I wait for Adonna, I wash all the dishes so I won’t have to hear Nana’s mouth when I get home from play practice, talking about how could I leave the sink full of dishes when I know how hard we have it, trying to keep Ms. Grier’s roaches to her own apartment?

Nana don’t have use for women who keep a nasty house.

Finally, the bell rings, and I dry my hands and go to open the door. Adonna practically runs in. “We have to leave right now,” she says, talking all fast. “For real.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Somebody said—and I’m not sure, but I have to be there—somebody said that that girl Broomhilda—”

“
Brunilda
,” I say.

“Whatever. Someone said she’s gonna get jumped in front of the school today.” Adonna’s smiling, all excited.

“Why are you so happy? She’s only a freshman. What did she ever do to you?”

“Nothing. But you seen her.” Adonna starts walking down
the hall shaking her butt like a crazy person. “C’mon, tell me this ain’t how she walks.”

I know she’s just trying to get me to laugh, but I’m not gonna let her. Not about something like this.

“I’m just saying,” Adonna says, like she’s trying to explain. “You see how she dresses and all that makeup she be wearing. When she first came to our school, I thought she was a tranny or something ’cause she wore so much foundation. Not only that, but she’s always in designer this and designer that.” She shakes her head. “I’m not jealous or nothing, but you know, what’s her problem? Why she gotta be like that?”

I shrug. “Let me get my book bag.”

Adonna follows me down the hall to my room. “Hurry up.”

I don’t wanna go see anybody get jumped. I saw enough of that back in middle school. And no matter how cute Brunilda thinks she is, nobody deserves to have that happen to them. Actually I kinda feel sorry for the girl. She’s probably only dressing that way because she thinks it’s gonna help her get attention or make friends, only to find that everybody is hating on her behind her back.

It wasn’t all that long ago I was walking into that school for the first time myself, and I probably would have made all the same stupid mistakes Brunilda’s making if I didn’t have Adonna telling me how to dress, who to be friends with, and how to act all the time. Last summer she took one look at me and said, “No way am I gonna let you start high school at
my
school looking like that, not if you’re gonna be hanging around
me
.”

And yeah, I knew I was a mess, even at the time. According to Adonna, I was too miserable, I had bad clothes, and, maybe worse of all in her opinion, I was too skinny. She said to me,
“Look, you don’t have to have a booty like mine or nothing, but you gotta get some meat on you. High school guys like an ass that’s gonna make them break their neck checking you out, you know what I mean? And you gotta smile sometime, have fun, and stop dressing like you don’t care.”

All summer she worked on me, trying to get me excited about high school and guys and dating. Like Nana was ever gonna let me date anybody. Like I was even ready for all that. Me and Adonna shopped together and ate a lot. I guess it was kinda fun, even though I know deep down I’m still the same girl with the same problems. Underneath.

But the good thing is, I’m almost done with freshman year and nobody hates me, so she probably did something right. I mean, I’m not the one about to get my butt kicked in front of the whole school.

I pick up my book bag off the floor. “Alright,” I say. “I’m ready.” But, of course, Adonna is looking in the mirror, smiling. I clear my throat, and that gets her to turn away from herself.

Unfortunately, she ends up looking at me. “Your grandmother’s not here for a change. Why don’t you put on something nice? You got so many clothes you never wear.”

I got on jeans and a tan Old Navy T-shirt. The kinda stuff I wear every day. “I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t wanna get all dressed up when I have stage crew later.”

But she’s already going through my dresser. She opens the top drawer, which is now empty, and says, “What the fuck?”

I try to act like it’s nothing. “Oh, I thought Renée would need a drawer, but—” Right away I feel stupid for bringing up her name.

Adonna shakes her head but don’t say anything, which is a good thing. She just opens the next drawer down and goes through my tops. “Ooh, wear this.” She holds up my white wrap blouse, the one she practically made me buy when we went shopping together last month. I don’t even know why I bought it, because I know for a fact Nana would never let me leave here in something like that.

Actually, I can’t wear most of the stuff I got that day. I mean, Adonna even talked me into buying a couple of thongs, but I stuffed them way in the back of my underwear drawer so Nana wouldn’t find them. I figured I wouldn’t get to wear any of the things I bought ’til I was living with Renée.

But now I pull the blouse on without really thinking about it and tie the strings at the side. Then I look at myself in the mirror. The top is fitted and hugs my body, and the neckline is kinda low, too. Nana would go off if she saw me. She would say I was trying to be grown. Like that’s a bad thing.

“I don’t know,” I say, still looking at myself. “You don’t think I look kinda
stank
?”

“Your titties ain’t big enough for you to look stank,” Adonna says, grabbing my wrist and practically pulling me outta the room. “C’mon—we’re gonna be late for the fight.”

“Wait,” I say, slowing her down a little bit. “Can’t I at least cut the price tag off first? God!”

When we go back down the hall, Renée’s zipping up her suitcase. “You girls leaving right now?”

I nod. “Yeah, why?”

“I’ll walk out with you.”

Next to me, Adonna breathes out heavily. “We’re kinda in a rush.”

“So am I,” Renée says, putting on a cute pale blue blazer. Then she turns off the CD player and grabs her suitcase and bag.

In the elevator I’m all uncomfortable. In a way I wish it was just me and Renée in there, but then I feel kinda guilty for wishing that. I mean, I don’t wanna push Adonna away every time Renée’s around. Adonna’s the one that’s always been there for me when Renée was too busy, and I can’t just forget about that.

So for a few floors, we’re quiet, ’til the elevator stops on nine and this lady, Ms. Jenkins, gets on. When she sees Renée, she gives her a big hug like she hasn’t seen her in years instead of months. She’s looking at Renée all proud, saying stuff like, “Girl, I can’t believe it! A Ph.D! See, that’s the kind of thing they need to put in the papers instead of all that negative stuff they write about kids from the projects.” She goes on and on for the whole rest of the way down. Meanwhile, Adonna has her arms folded in front of her, all attitude, looking as bored as she’s ever gonna get.

Outside, there’s a line at Kenny’s Kandy, working people trying to get their coffee and buttered rolls before they get to the train. But as we get closer to the truck, Kenny leans his head outta the window and yells, “I
know
that ain’t Renée!”

She hurries up ahead of us and gets to the truck about a second after Kenny opens the back door and jumps out onto the street. Renée sets her suitcase down and Kenny grabs her up in a big hug, smiling like a crazy man.

“Damn, you look good, girl,” he tells her, letting her go just enough to check her out. “Look at you.”

Renée laughs. “You’re looking alright yourself.”

Kenny grabs her in another hug. “You don’t know,” he says. “I been waiting to see you.”

Me and Adonna look at each other, and it’s like I can read her mind. And she’s right. This is embarrassing, at least for Kenny. And all the people that are waiting in line at the truck are watching him make a fool outta himself, like he’s some little boy that can’t get over his first love.