The Meltdown (11 page)

Maybe I should make one for Jeremy since he’s leaving me, too. I’ll also add some beads for Oshune so she can keep my man sweet and faithful while he’s gone. I know Jeremy’s a good guy, but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra protection.

“What time are y’all leaving Thursday morning? I can be late to school since it’s the last week.” No one’s really counting
attendance next week even though I probably won’t take advantage of the unofficial end-of-the-year custom. The last thing I need is for my government teacher, Mrs. Peterson, to mark me tardy out of spite. She’d love to end my year on a miserable note.

“With the sunrise, baby,” Mama says, ushering me away from the kitchen table and into the small open room where the shrines are housed. I kneel down on the bamboo mat while Mama lights the tall, white seven-day candles along the windowsills.

“Yes, little Jayd. Anytime you travel, go with nature,” Netta says, joining us with a wooden mortar full of the fragrant elements for my crown. “You rise with the morning sun and rest when it sets.”

“Don’t worry about seeing us off, baby. Just wake up at that time and pray for a safe and open road.”

I’m glad Mama said it because I’m not feeling waking up that early. “I’m going to miss you both,” I say, becoming teary-eyed. The three people I depend on daily are leaving me at the same time. What am I going to do without them?

“We’ll miss you, too, Jayd. But just because we aren’t here in the physical doesn’t mean you can’t call on us when you need our help.”

Netta’s right. I don’t care where they go; I know they’ll always be within earshot of my prayers.

“And that also doesn’t mean we’re not watching you, little girl, so be good and handle your business.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, laughing at Mama keeping it real.

“And most importantly, be careful of your associations. Birds of a feather flock together, Jayd. Remember that.”

She’s right about that. I witnessed firsthand how crows operate when Little Miss Texas arrived at cheer practice yesterday. Mama places her hands on my head, ready to restart
the ancient ceremony. Netta passes the mortar to her friend and retrieves a glass of water from the shrines to open with a prayer.

“We’ll always be within reach, Jayd. Always.”

I know Mama can never be that far away no matter where her travels take her. And for that I’m grateful. I hate saying good-bye, but like Jeremy said, I have to have faith that it’ll all be all right no matter how painful it may be.

I
t’s been a quiet day at South Bay High with the entire senior population missing in action for Senior Ditch Day. Ever since Mama and Netta cleansed my head Saturday, I’ve felt completely refreshed. It’s amazing what one simple ritual can accomplish. The remnants of Esmeralda’s sight seem to be gone as well as most of the heat in my head. It’s probably temporary, but I’m grateful for the break from the insanity that’s plagued me lately. Yesterday’s cheer performance at the final assembly went well, and I didn’t even snap at Ellen’s country-bumpkin ass nor did she try touching me again.

I can’t believe we’ve finally made it to the last day of school. It’s been a long, tough year, but we made it through. Summer couldn’t have come sooner, even if it’s not going to be as much fun as I initially thought it would. Mama and Netta left yesterday morning right on schedule. They’ve already made it to Arizona and will call when they reach Louisiana. It’s bad enough that Jeremy’s leaving for the first half of the extended vacation, but with Mama and Netta also gone, it’s going to be an unbearable break. At least I’ll have my other commitments and work to keep me occupied.

“Hola, Yeyekeke,”
Emilio says, creeping up behind me in the nearly vacant main hall. No one’s called me
little mama
in Yoruban in a long time, nor did I give this punk permission to do so. Emilio’s like a fly: annoying and unnecessary, yet he refuses to go away.

“It’s Jayd to you,” I say, shutting my empty locker. I’ve been systematically cleaning out the year’s worth of paper and other trash so I wouldn’t have to spend today doing it, unlike the rest of my friends who are all perpetual procrasti-nators when it comes to this kind of thing.

“Pardon, Jayd,” Emilio says in his thick Venezuelan accent with an air of false humility. “Maybe I should refer to you as Madam President, since I did have a hand in giving you that title.”

I turn around and face Emilio’s smug ass. He’s only a couple of inches taller than my five-foot frame. I know I could take him down if I had to.

“What do you want, Emilio?” I ask impatiently. Where’s a flyswatter when I need one? We have only a couple of minutes to get to third period, and I’m not willing to be late for this fool.

“The same thing we all want, Jayd. For your grandmother to join our spiritual family.” Emilio’s smile grows more sinister as he takes a step closer to me, nearly pinning my back against the long row of lockers. I need to join our fellow students in their mid-morning exodus to class before I end up kneeing this boy in his family jewels.

“Who’s this elusive ‘everybody,’ because no one I know wants that,” I say, maneuvering my way around him and charging toward the history corridor attached to the large hall.

“You know me, and I do,” Emilio says, keeping up with my fast pace. “Besides, you owe me a favor.”

I stop in midstride, almost causing a collision behind me, and look this punk dead in the eye. If I could conjure my
great-grandmother’s powers, I would. Emilio would be crippled by my thoughts, and that would suit me just fine.

“Let’s get this straight, Emilio, once and for all. I don’t owe you a damned thing.” My head’s getting hot and right after I had a cleansing, too. Damn this boy and his pushy godfather.

“Of course you do, Madam President. If I’d voted for myself instead of you, I’d be president of the African Student Union and you would be vice president. You and I both know that we were neck and neck, Jayd.” Emilio touches my shoulders, his touch cool against my skin. If I’d known he was going to lay his hands on me again, I wouldn’t have worn a tank top.

We stare each other down, neither of us relenting in our stance. My head begins to boil at the thought of Emilio threatening my grandmother or having the audacity to think I needed his help to win the election for the club I founded. As if. Before I can escape Emilio’s grasp without acting violent, his fingers coil around my neck like the snakes in my shower nightmare a couple of weeks ago. Emilio’s eyes glow at my entrance into his mind, but the trick’s on me: My head’s too hot, and his cool thoughts are causing my vision to blur.

“Let go of me,” I say, grabbing both his wrists in my hands and forcing them away from my body, ending our mental quest. I may not be at a hundred percent, but my fifty percent beats Emilio’s weak ass any day. The tardy bell rings, and Emilio walks away as defeated as he was when he first approached my locker. I vigorously shake my head and enter the barren classroom where Jeremy’s waiting at his desk next to mine. I’m not letting Emilio ruin our last day of school, even if he does need to be dealt with in a serious way.

After third period, Jeremy decided to ditch fourth but promised he’d return for lunch. We have to sign yearbooks, take photos, and say our good-byes to folks we won’t see until September, like my homegirl Maggie and her crew hanging in their customary spot in the quad, El Barrio. KJ, Misty, and the rest of South Central were missing from Mr. Adewale’s speech and debate class, and I for one was grateful for the peace. It seems the rest of my crew decided to stick around for lunch, too, but will probably leave right after. I might do the same since Mrs. Sinclair officially ended drama class after the play last week, and there’s no cheer practice this afternoon.

“What up, senior?” Mickey asks, walking up to the lunch bench I’ve claimed for us.

“I like the sound of that, senior,” I say, exchanging yearbooks with my girl. “I’m glad you made it, Mickey. It wouldn’t be the same without you. How’s Nickey adjusting to not being with you during the day?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Mickey says, propping herself up on the table and opening her Diet Coke. “I’m just glad to be out of the damned house.”

“Mickey, you’re too much,” I say, stating the obvious. I think I’ll put that fact of life in her book, too.

“Whatever,” she says. “I need to ask Misty how she lost all that weight,” Mickey says, eyeing Misty and KJ walking across the lunch quad with the rest of their crew in tow. As usual, Misty’s red outfit leaves little to the imagination. Mickey’s right about one thing: Misty’s swag is completely different from our sophomore year. Not only did she shed a good thirty pounds, but she also adjusted her wardrobe and her height by wearing high heels every day. From the outside looking in, Misty’s entire junior year was all about social change. Too bad her metamorphosis didn’t carry over to her
academics. Rumor has it she barely passed the eleventh grade.

“Are you kidding? Misty’s always up in someone’s business. That alone can burn a thousand calories a day,” I say, making my girl giggle. “It’s a wonder the chick has all that ass left.”

“Yeah, she is rocking the J.Lo, but KJ seems to love it,” Mickey says.

I never thought I’d see the day Mickey was envious of Misty. I can’t believe it.

“Of course he does,” I say, trying not to talk with my mouth full, but this turkey sandwich is banging and I’m hungry. “It’s all his, even if he’s not returning the same loyalty to Misty.” KJ couldn’t turn down an available broad to save his life. Most might say that KJ’s the man for running game, but I say it’s a sign of how deep his insecurities lie.

“Why should he? KJ’s got game and he’s fine.”

Mickey can be so shallow sometimes, I swear. We both wave to the rest of our crew exiting the main hall and heading our way. They had to clean out their lockers or risk staying after school to get the job done. South Bay High doesn’t play about school beautification and will gladly charge a fee to anyone who doesn’t follow the rules.

“All I’m saying is if a girl talked to every dude who looked good, she would be seen as having daddy issues. Therefore, I think it’s safe to say that KJ has mama issues. His love of booty is his way of compensating for attention he missed during childhood.”

Mickey looks up at me in midsip and smiles.

“Somebody’s been watching too much
Dr. Phil,
” Mickey says, checking her shirt and making sure her breasts aren’t leaking.

I had to go to three different stores to find the perfect
breast-feeding bra. After all the trouble I went through, of course Mickey’s ready to throw in the towel and bottle-feed my goddaughter.

“Whatever, Mickey,” I say, stuffing the last Frito into my mouth, along with my sub. Damn, these things are good. It must be that time of the month. I always crave salt and chocolate when Mother Nature’s ready to make her grand appearance. “I don’t see where you need to lose weight. You’re wearing the same jeans you wore on the first day of school.”

“You’re right,” Mickey says, looking down at her Express pants and poking at her belly roll. Granted, her pudge is new, but what did she expect after having a baby? “I need to go shopping.”

As usual, Mickey misses the point completely.

Jeremy, Chance, Nigel, and Nellie finally reach our table with their yearbooks and lunch in hand, ready to chill.

“What up, my peeps?” Chance says, claiming a spot on the bench.

Nigel hands Mickey her lunch and everyone couples up—even Chance and Nellie. I guess they’re speaking again for the time being. Looking at my friends, I become misty-eyed knowing we won’t be able to chill like this again for a while. Man, my hormones and my sight have got me tripping hard.

“What’s harshing your mellow?” Jeremy asks, noticing my mood shift and putting his arm around me.

Sometimes I swear we speak a different language. “I’m going to miss you. My grandmother left yesterday, and I already miss her, too,” I say, attempting to hold it together. It’s all too much for me to handle this afternoon. And besides, I’m supposed to be happy on my last day. At least I’m not anticipating any end-of-the-year fights, which is the usual mode of operation in my hood for the last day.

“I’ve got something that’ll make you smile,” Jeremy says, pulling a tightly rolled plastic bag from his back pocket.

I open the black bag and unfold the T-shirt and tank top inside.

“This one’s for you,” Jeremy says, taking the pale blue tank and holding it up to my chest. “South Bay Surfer,” he says, reading the white words aloud.

“You are crazy, Jeremy,” I say, holding up the extra-large yellow shirt. “And this is supposed to be yours, I assume.”

“You know it, baby,” he says, pointing to the word
Gold-digger
printed across the front in bold, black letters. He must’ve been high when he bought these, but I don’t care. I needed to laugh.

“Y’all are nuts,” Nigel says, laughing at us.

The rest of our crew shake their heads and continue eating and signing. The other excited students around us are all pretty much doing the same thing.

“I love my gift, baby,” I say, kissing my man. “Thank you.” I return the shirt to the generic bag and bring the last bite of my sandwich to my lips. “When do you leave?”

“Early tomorrow morning, Jayd. It’s an eight-hour flight to London,” Jeremy says, shocking me. I knew it was soon but not less than twenty-four hours from now. Against my best effort, tears well up in my eyes, instantly eliminating my remaining appetite. I try to hold them back, but they fall to my cheeks anyway.

“I’m going to miss you,” I say, replacing Mickey’s yearbook with Jeremy’s and turning to my spot. I reserved pages in each of my friends’ books when we received them Wednesday: We all did the same thing.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Jeremy says, signing my book. “But you’ll see. Six weeks will fly by and I’ll be right back here with you, Lady J.”