No Boyz Allowed (7 page)
Authors: Ni-Ni Simone
“Okay!” Malik’s face lit up and I didn’t know whether to feel happy that Ms. Grier was being nice or to feel annoyed because Malik needed to get it together.
I decided to nix it. I had my own day to worry about.
“All right,” Cousin Shake announced. “Time’s up!”
Ms. Minnie cleared the table. “You all have a wonderful day!”
“That’s right,” Cousin Shake added. “Enjoy your day and just know I love y’all.”
Just when I thought he was a monster, he proves that he’s human.
“Bye, Ms. Minnie. Bye, Cousin Shake,” we all said, leaving the kitchen.
“Malik, where are your sneakers?” Ms. Grier asked as we headed toward the front door.
“Oh, I forgot to put them on.” He ran upstairs to his room.
“All right,” Toi said. “I have to get Noah to daycare and get to class! Bye.”
“Oh, snap,” Man-Man said as he patted the side pocket of his jeans. “I must’ve left my phone upstairs. Hold up for a minute, Gem.” He raced up the stairs, and left me and Ms. Grier standing here together.
After a moment of silence Ms. Grier said, “So, Gem, you look really cute this morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you excited?”
“No, I’m going to tenth grade, not kindergarten.” I knew I shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been asked that question twice and both times it reminded me that I was anything but excited. “I’ma go and check on Malik and see what’s taking him so long.”
Before she could go off I’d run up the stairs and into Malik’s room.
“Yo,” I said to him. “What’s taking you so long?”
“What are you doing in here?” he said in a panic.
“Wondering why you’re taking so long. Duh.”
“I can’t find my sneakers.”
I pointed to a corner in his room where sneaker boxes were stacked on top of each other. “Ms. Grier bought you tons of sneakers, wear another pair.”
“No, Baby-Tot-Tot has to look sharp, like Cousin Shake said.” Malik shook his head. “And I have to wear my Vans on the first day.”
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “You gon’ make everybody late.” I walked around the room, to help him look for the sneakers.
“I don’t need your help,” Malik snapped at me.
“Boy, please.” I waved him off, got on my knees, and looked under the bed.
“I said I don’t need your help!” he screamed.
“I already know it’s a zoo under here.” I dipped my head under the bed. “So don’t... yell at me... again!” There was a ton of stuff under this bed, none of which I could really see because under the bed was dark. “You need to clean up!” I grabbed a garbage bag and dragged it from under his bed.
“What is going on up here?” Ms. Grier said walking in.
“What’s taking you so long? You two need to get going.”
“I was trying to help him look for his Vans.”
“They are hanging on the shoe rack,” she said. “I put them there last night. All you had to do was look behind the door.”
Duh!
Ms. Grier grabbed the sneakers as I stood up and dusted my jeans. The bag I’d just dragged from under Malik’s bed caught my eye. It was an untied black garbage bag with food and loads of snacks inside . . .
What the...
I peeped at Malik and he held his head down. I felt like choking him.
I don’t believe this.
I took my foot and tried to kick the bag back under the bed. It was too bulky to fit back in place easily, and all my foot did was rip it.
I took my foot and tried to kick the bag back under the bed. It was too bulky to fit back in place easily, and all my foot did was rip it.
“What are you doing, Gem?” Ms. Grier asked. She walked over to where I stood and pointed to the garbage bag.
“Nothing, I was just—”
“About to lie,” she completed my sentence. “Now what is that?” She reached for the bag and looked at Malik. “Young man, when I told you to clean up your room yesterday I didn’t mean stuff the trash under the bed! I see you and your big brother have a lot in common.” She picked up the torn bag and everything in it fell out and splattered across the carpeted floor: cereal, chicken nuggets, fruit snacks, chips, and a box of Capri Sun juice.
Dead...
“What is this?” Ms. Grier asked. The expression on her face let me know that she was not feeling this and she was not feeling us.
On to high school number four.
“Malik, why is there food under your bed?” she asked. “Is this the food Cousin Shake said was missing?”
I looked at Malik and his eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Gem, tell her I’m sorry.”
I wanted to spaz—big time. Malik knew we didn’t need to give these fools any reason to trip. And it wasn’t like I’d never spoken to him about stealing food before in other foster homes. Actually, I don’t even know why he stole the food—maybe it was like he was trying to make up for the times we starved.
Malik had to know this would cause mad trouble... or maybe since the foster parents always blamed the missing food on me and I always took the weight, Malik really didn’t know or understand the drama that always went down.
But whatever. All I knew is that this little dude was trippin’. Hard.
“Malik,” Ms. Grier said patiently. “Why was there food under your bed?”
He didn’t say a word. But I did. “I did it.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I did it.”
She twisted her full lips. “And why would you steal food?”
I shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”
“Habit?”
“Yeah, I mean. My fault.”
“Your fault.” Ms. Grier arched her brow. “Were you scared you would go hungry, starve, or that the food would disappear?”
I hesitated and then I figured whatever. “Yeah, that’s it. I went hungry too many times to count and since all I know is how to survive I was scared to be hungry again. So I started stealing food and hiding it under my bed—”
“It was under Malik’s bed,” Ms. Grier said.
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. Hide it under Malik’s bed.”
Ms. Grier gave me a half a smile. “You’re a wonderful big sister, but a terrible liar. And don’t lie to me again. Now, Malik come here.”
Malik didn’t move.
Ms. Grier repeated herself. “Come. Here.”
Tears slid down his cheeks as he slowly walked over to her. “Yes.”
She lifted his chin. “Look at me.”
He lifted his eyes toward her and before she could say anything he said, “You gon’ put us out?”
Ms. Grier paused and then she hugged Malik tightly. “Oh, baby, let me tell you something. As long as you’ll have me and my crazy family this is your home.”
“Really?” he said anxiously. “So you’re not mad at me.”
“No,” she said. “I just want you to understand that you don’t need to steal food because whatever we have here is yours. It’s not going anywhere. It won’t disappear, and I will never let you starve.” She lifted her eyes and looked at me. “Ever,” she said. “And I mean it.”
And I knew she meant it, I just didn’t want to deal with any mushy, emotional or heavy stuff right now. I just wanted—for once—to have a regular day. No worries. No aggravation. No baggage.
“Yo, Gem!” Man-Man yelled up the stairs. “Let’s go! I need to get to school a few minutes early to stroll around the grounds.”
Saved.
“Let’s roll!” he yelled again.
Gladly.
I looked at Ms. Grier and said, “I gotta go.”
“And we both know you’re in no rush.” Ms. Grier smiled at me and surprisingly I smiled back; mostly because I couldn’t help it. “Have a good day,” she said.
“You too,” I said as I raced out of the room. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough and just as I headed toward the stairs I heard Malik say, “I love you, Ms. Grier!”
11
“
L
et me school you on Brick City High politics,” Man-Man said as wide and purple lace panties dangled from the rearview mirror of his black ’01 Civic Hatchback. The panties swayed like a ribbon in the morning breeze. I was disgusted. Lip turned up and face frowned disgusted.
L
et me school you on Brick City High politics,” Man-Man said as wide and purple lace panties dangled from the rearview mirror of his black ’01 Civic Hatchback. The panties swayed like a ribbon in the morning breeze. I was disgusted. Lip turned up and face frowned disgusted.
“What’s wrong with you?” Man-Man said as we drove up the street. “Ms. Minnie’s fried eggs tearing up your stomach?”
“The only thing tearing up my stomach are those wide behind lace panties dangling from your mirror. Are those clean?”
He gleamed. “First of all, don’t disrespect the trophy. And yeah, they’re clean ’cause I washed ’em. And they’re not wide, they’re just right.”
“For who?”
“My boos. Big girls. I love ’em. I can’t stand no skinny chicks.” Man-Man frowned like he had something bitter in his mouth.
“And why not? What skinny girls ever do to you?”
“They just don’t feel right. Whenever I tried to hug one I felt like I was being attacked by a paper cut. Nah, I like my honeys the same way I like my chicken: plump, big thighs. Nice and thick. Juicy. But don’t get it confused, although I like big girls I have a limit. I like a hungry man’s dinner, not a buffet. Feel me?”
How about no . . .
“So those panties belong to some random chick. How nasty.”
“So those panties belong to some random chick. How nasty.”
“You buggin’. I bought those panties out of Dollar Tree. They belong to me.”
“You own a pair of lace panties and I’m buggin’? Yeah, okay.” I side-eyed him.
“You need to get your mind right. ’Cause if you broadened your horizons you’d understand that those panties keep me focused.”
“Focused?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “On what? Big booties?”
“There you go, mind all in the gutter. Ma raised me to be a respectable young man. I like girls for the veins in their brains.”
“What?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
He continued, “So I bought the panties because when I meet my plus-sized queen and I ask her to be my girl, I’ma give her the lace panties to wear.”
“Boom,” I said sarcastically and snapped my fingers. “It’ll be like a ring.”
“Pow, there it is,” Man-Man said. “Like a drop down crown. And if ya girl Pop gets herself together maybe she’ll get her upgrade on, be back in wifey status, and these panties just might be in her future. Dig?”
“How rewarding. I’m sure she’ll love that.”
Not.
Not.
“You know my motto: go big or shut da hell up.”
“Yeah, those big panties prove that.”
“And there it is. Now let’s get back to politickin’.”
“Let’s.”
“So check it: at Brick City High I run the Player’s Club.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“ ’Cause you know how I do it. And peep this—I’m not only a client, I’m the Player president.” He popped his invisible collar.
O . . . M . . . G . . . straight clownin’ . . .
And while Man-Man tripped off of his own swag and laid down his laws of the land, my mind drifted to thoughts of Ny’eem. I was feeling him like crazy...I just didn’t know what to say to him, which is why I had yet to call him back. He’d called me two days in a row. Left messages on my cell phone and not once did I dial his number. I just didn’t know what to say to him.
And while Man-Man tripped off of his own swag and laid down his laws of the land, my mind drifted to thoughts of Ny’eem. I was feeling him like crazy...I just didn’t know what to say to him, which is why I had yet to call him back. He’d called me two days in a row. Left messages on my cell phone and not once did I dial his number. I just didn’t know what to say to him.
“Yeah, hello...”
was my failed attempt to act out our conversation. Even to myself I sounded stupid, so I knew he would think I was dumb.
was my failed attempt to act out our conversation. Even to myself I sounded stupid, so I knew he would think I was dumb.
I looked toward Man-Man, who was still running his mouth about his favorite subject, himself. “...Yeah, my Player’s Club presidency will go down in history because it’s only one of me. And any more than that would be disastrous.”
Fa’ real though.
“Man-Man—”
“Man-Man—”
He continued, “People don’t understand there are no clones of Man-Man. I mean G-Bread—”
I snapped my fingers and waved my hands for attention. “Excuse me, can you get off of planet Myself and come back to Earth with everyone else? I need to ask you something.”
Man-Man looked at me like I was crazy. “That was hella rude.”
“Would you listen to me? I want to ask you something.”
“What?” he said as we stopped at the light. “Wassup?”
“I want you to be serious, okay?”
“I’m always serious.” The light turned green and he took off. “What you think I be playin’? Nah, what you see is straight up G. See, I be telling these girls that I’ma real cat. Never been phony—”
“This is so not about you.”
He looked taken aback. “Then what is this about?”
“Me.” I pointed to my chest. “Gem. So, can the conversation focus on me for five minutes?” I held my hand up.
“Yo, you can calm down. What’s all the attitude about?”
“Are you going to let me get a word in?”
“Go ’head.”
I swallowed and don’t ask me why I was nervous, but I was. And don’t ask me why I wanted Man-Man’s opinion, but I did. I huffed. Let out a strong string of air and said this quickly: “Doboyslikegirlslikeme?”
“I got a low D in Spanish, so I’ma need you to say that again but hollah at me in English. And not honors English either. 101.”
“Do. Boys. Like. Girls. Like. Me?”
Man-Man hesitated. “Umm...” He paused and shook his head. “I knew this would happen.”
I smirked and looked at him, completely put off. “Knew what?”
“I knew that my swagaliciousness would cause you to take side glances at me.”
“Say that again.”
“But check it, I know I’m irresistible, tantalizing, and desirable. But the day you came to live with us, Ma laid down the law that you were family. Period. Dot. Dot. Dot. And the moment she declared you were my sister you became like...how do I say this without hurting your feelings?” He snapped his fingers. “Nasty looking to me. Real stank.”
“Nasty looking and real stank?”
Did he just say nasty looking and real stank?
Did he just say nasty looking and real stank?
“Don’t trip. I mean you’re cute and all but, we can’t go there. Besides, I think it’s illegal and I can’t do jail. I stole a CD out of Walmart once, Ma made me do Scared Straight and yo, that whole deal messed ... me ... up. And ever since then I break out into nigh sweats and start screaming, ‘I don’t wanna wash your drawls, Pookie!’”
Why did I even bother?
“Look,” I said. “I’m not looking at you sideways, front ways, from the back, or any other kind of way, actually I don’t even understand why all these girls be sweatin’ you, fa’ real.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m not looking at you sideways, front ways, from the back, or any other kind of way, actually I don’t even understand why all these girls be sweatin’ you, fa’ real.”
“Was that a diss?”
“Anyway, all I wanna know is if you think that boys,
and not you
, like girls like me?”
and not you
, like girls like me?”
Man-Man looked me over, from head to stiletto, and back again. “I think,” he tapped his temple, “that a cat could think you looked a’ight. You okay.”
“A’ight? Okay? That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I mean if you’re looking for something to boost your self-esteem you gon’ have to watch the
Bad Girls Club
or
Jersey Shore
, ’cause I don’t do all of that.”
Bad Girls Club
or
Jersey Shore
, ’cause I don’t do all of that.”
“Oh ... my... God...”
“What’s the problem? I mean, you good. I guess. And why you asking me that anyway?”
“’Cause.” I blushed. “I kind of like somebody.”
“Who?” he pressed.
“One of your boys.”
“Oh, hell nawl,” he pounded against the steering wheel. “You messing up the constitution. It’s a violation for little sisters and their brother’s boys to be kickin’ it.”
“No it’s not.”
He sighed. “Who is it?”
“It’s umm—”
“Oh hold up. Hold. Up. Yo, that night of the party when I couldn’t find you and I stepped outside and you were talking to Ny’eem, were y’all talking, like ‘hey wassup?’ or were y’all kicking it like ‘Hey. Wassup?’”
I paused, especially since I wanted to say, “We did more than kick it—actually his swag and his kisses took me hostage and that’s why I’m so torn on whether I need to run away or stand and deal with the flurries running through my belly.” But I decided to keep it simple. “We were kicking it.”
“I knew it. Y’all exchanged numbers?”
“Yeah, he gave me his number.”
Man-Man shook his head. “You talk to him?”
“No.”
“Good, don’t. I don’t want you talking to my boys.” He made a left into the school’s parking lot.
“Are you serious?”
He shook his head again. “I see I’ma have to watch you. But whatever, Ny’eem is cool, so I guess it’ll be a’ight if y’all kicked it for a minute. You called him?”
“No. I didn’t know what to say to him.”
“Just let it flow. Ny’eem is a cool dude. And if he wasn’t feeling you he wouldn’t have even kicked it to you. So he must like you.”
“Really?” I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Close your mouth. And yeah, really. If Ny’eem gave you his number then he’s diggin’ you.”
“Maybe I’ll just talk to him when I see him this morning.”
“You won’t. He doesn’t go to school here, he lives on the block but he goes to a private school. They recruited him to play ball.”
“Word?”
“Yup. And you know they tried to recruit me, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I tried out to be a center and they gon’ recruit me to be the mascot. What I look like running around with a hot-and-played bear costume on?”
All I could do was laugh. Actually, I laughed so hard I cried.
“I don’t find that funny,” Man-Man said. “I’m a little sensitive about that.”
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry.” I did my best to stop giggling. “My fault.”
“Anyway,” Man-Man said quickly changing the subject, “while Ny’eem’s over at his school running thangs I’m here in Brick City High handling my lane—the mac game.” He took the key from the ignition. “So what you gon’ do? You gon’ call him or what?”
“I—”
“Excuse me, Gem,” Man-Man cut me off as a group of girls walked past the car. “Hold that thought for a few hours.” He got out of the car, dipped across the lot, and walked over to the group of girls who quickly enveloped him. No good-bye. No see you later. Nothing. Just a cloud of dust left behind.
I eased out the car and leaned against the door. I turned my head and looked around the school’s parking lot. It was a sea of color, varying fashion, and teens of all shapes and sizes. There were cackles of laughter, buzzing conversations filled the air, and teachers patrolled the parking lot.
I walked over to the school—an enormous, three-story, beige brick building—and walked in through the glass door. There were pockets of cliques everywhere, which caused me to be hesitant once I stood at the top of the hallway.
I hated starting all over again.
New friends.
New teachers.
Ugh, I was so not beat for this.
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