Boy Trouble (9 page)

I
guess Sheridan couldn't stay mad at me long either because she was standing in front of me, like she hadn't been ignoring me for the past few days.

“So you talking to me now?” I asked.

She hunched her shoulders. “Look, Maya, I don't want to fight with you. I just want you to respect my relationship.”

“Fine. Whatever,” I told her.

She studied me for a minute, then said, “What is wrong with you?”

I jumped. I hadn't even realized that Sheridan was still standing next to my locker.

“Nothing,” I said, as I closed my locker and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder.

“Doesn't look like nothing,” she said. “Not with the way you're slamming that locker.”

“It's just Kennedi.”
And you
, I wanted to add. But I wasn't in the mood to fight with her anymore. I'd dropped Kennedi off last night, and when I'd called to check on her later, she wouldn't answer. The whole situation with both of them was absolutely exhausting.

“What's going on with Kennedi?” Sheridan asked.

I debated telling her, but I knew Kennedi would have a stroke, so I just said, “The usual.”

Sheridan shrugged like she couldn't be bothered. “Hey, did you see the new girl, Nelly Fulton?”

“Why would I care about some new chick?”

“Because it's Nelly Fulton, the winner from
The X Factor
last season.”

I turned to Sheridan. “Really? That girl can blow? Why is she here?”

“Apparently, her parents insisted that she finish high school, and since her manager is here, they moved here.”

I shook my head. “Parents mooching off their kid. Whatever,” I replied.

“Well, they're not the only one. Karrington White has attached herself at the hip to Nelly.”

I spun around to face Sheridan. “And I care about this, because?”

Sheridan looked taken aback. “I'm sorry. Did someone not have her latte this morning?”

I inhaled. She was trying to make up with me. I just needed to drop it. “Nah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's just that . . .” I didn't get to finish my sentence because Javier came stomping toward us.

Sheridan grinned like a stupid lovesick girl, but quickly lost her smile when she saw the look on his face.

“Hey, babe, what's up?” he asked.

“Did you turn in my paper?” he snapped.

Sheridan dug in her bag. “You said it wasn't due till seventh period.” She fished a paper out and handed it to him.

Javier snatched the paper. “You stupid broad! I said second period. I said get it to my teacher by second period.”

My mouth fell open in shock. Sheridan wasn't a fighter, but she wasn't a punk either, so I knew she was about to tell him about himself.

“Second? I'm so sorry. I . . . I thought you said seventh,” she stammered.

“Ugh!” He scanned the paper. “Maybe if you wasn't always running your mouth.” He waved the paper at her. “You lucky, Mr. Warren likes me and gave me thirty minutes to turn this in. I'd better get an A on this paper.”

“Javier, I'm so sorry,” Sheridan said. But if he heard her, he didn't act like it. He looked at her in disgust, then turned and stomped off.

Sheridan actually stood in the middle of the hallway and began to cry.

I finally snapped myself out of my daze. “Are you freakin' kidding me?” I said. “Are you seriously going to let him talk to you like that?”

“He's just upset. This was an important paper.” She dabbed her eyes. “I can't believe I got that wrong.”

“If it's so important, why are you doing it?” I asked.

“Maya, don't start.”

I shook my head, still in shock. “Wow. Just wow. Are you the same girl that broke up with Lincoln in the tenth grade because he called you a nerd? And you let this dude call you a stupid broad and it's okay?”

“You just don't like Javier,” she protested.

“You doggone right, I don't,” I replied. “And I don't understand how you can either.”

She wiped her tears some more. “You don't need to understand. Maybe if you found a guy you really loved, you'd understand that couples argue.”

I didn't miss her low blow and I was definitely going to call her on that—at another time. Right now, I needed to convince her to go get her head examined.

“That wasn't an argument, Sheridan. An argument is when two people go back and forth. He went off. You just stood there. You have let him slob all over you like you're some kind of thirsty, dirty chick. You let him talk to you like you're gutter trash. Don't you have more respect for yourself?”

“Don't you dare judge me,” she snapped, suddenly getting angry. “Like you haven't done anything stupid for love. I know what I'm doing and you need to get your own love life and stay out of mine.”

The bell rang, giving her a reason to bounce. “Bye,” she said, stomping off before I could say another word.

I
was stretched out across my bed, trying my best to concentrate on these figures in front of me. But I noticed that on question number six, Use the limit definition to compute the derivative
f
‘(
x
). I'd written in the blank,
Who gives a crap?

Yep, that meant it was time to shut it down. I would have to beg for an extension tomorrow or find someone's paper to copy off of. I hated doing that because then people felt like you owed them something, but I didn't have any other choice because my mind wasn't processing any of this gibberish.

“Knock, knock.” My mother stuck her head in the door as she lightly tapped on the door. I wanted to ask her what was the purpose of her knocking if she was just going to come in before I gave her permission. But since my mother wasn't always bougie (every now and then, she could let a little crazy slip out), I didn't say anything.

“Hey,” I said, closing my calculus book.

“I was just letting you know that your dad is with your aunt Beverly now.”

“How's Travis?” I said, sitting up on the side of my bed.

“He's not doing too well,” my mom said as she sat down next to me. “They're not thinking Beverly will make it through the week.”

“Wow,” I said. I didn't spend a lot of time around my aunt, but she was super sweet to me. So, this news made me really sad.

My mom shook her head. “That trifling boyfriend of hers, though.”

“What about him?” I asked. I didn't know much about the guy my aunt was dating. I just knew my dad despised him as much as Travis did.

“He's at the hospital trying to get her to sign a will,” my mom said. “One I'm sure he threw together. Can you believe that?”

“Who is this guy?” I was surprised that Travis hadn't told me much about him. He'd mentioned him a time or two. I knew he didn't like the guy, but he never went into details.

“Some trifling guy she started dating before she got sick,” my mom replied.

“You don't think he beat Aunt Beverly up, do you? I mean, could that be why she got sick?”

My mother squinted in my direction. “What? Where'd you get that from?”

I sighed and fell back against my headboard. I couldn't believe that crazy thought had just popped in my head. “I don't know. But are you sure?”

“Yeah, sweetie. Your aunt has cancer. Nobody beat her up.” My mother eyed me suspiciously. “Um, this wouldn't have anything to do with your show the other day, would it?” she asked.

“No. I mean, maybe.” I shrugged. “It's still on my mind. After the show, this girl called me and said seeing it gave her the strength to leave.”

“Wow,” my mom said. She patted my thigh as she smiled. “I love hearing stuff like that. It makes the whole gossip show worthwhile.”

“Yeah, I never thought I'd get to someone like that, but it hammered home the fact that there are a lot of people in abusive relationships. I can't believe . . .” I bit my tongue because I didn't want to put Sheridan and Kennedi's business out there like that, but I really did want to get her take on what I should do. I'd debated telling their parents, but I knew snitching to parents was an unforgiveable act. “I just can't believe people, especially teens, would let themselves be caught up in an abusive relationship,” I finally said.

“Yeah,” my mom said, “I think it's something like one in three teens will be in an abusive relationship before the age of eighteen. It's a real epidemic.”

I had to stop and take a second look at my mom. I hadn't thought she knew anything other than the latest fashion trend. She must've read my mind because she laughed. “Sweetie, I know you think your mother is shallow, but I do have a good head on my shoulders. I didn't get my degree in business administration for nothing.”

“Wow . . .”

“And, besides, one of the charities I work with deals with domestic abuse.”

“Really?” I said. “I didn't know that.”

“Because you have no interest in anything that I do,” she said, playfully wagging her manicured finger at me.

I smiled. “That's because I thought you didn't do anything but shop.”

She stood up. “No, darling. In fact, I'm being honored on Friday for my work with the Riverbend House's Dress for Success program for homeless women.”

Dang, I was seeing my mom in a whole new light.

“You can be fabulous and still fight for a cause,” she told me.

I thought about what she was telling me. Finally, I said, “My producer, Dexter, said unless I can find some more celebrities getting beat up, he doesn't want to explore the issue of domestic abuse anymore.”

“Well, I think this just might be one of those things you have to fight for,” my mom replied. “You have a voice, Maya. You should use it.”

I knew she was right. Or, on second thought, maybe she wasn't. I did have a voice and I had a lot of followers, and a lot of people who listened to me. But apparently, the two people who mattered most to me weren't trying to hear anything that I said.

“You keep doing what you're doing,” my mother said, heading toward my bedroom door. “I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said as she walked out the door.

I fell back on the bed as her words swirled in my head.
One in three teens will be in an abusive relationship.
Me, Sheridan, and Kennedi. The odds already weren't in our favor.

My mother was right. I'd used my voice for a lot of things—to tell a lot of folks' business. I needed to use it now, because it might be the only thing that could save my BFFs from becoming a statistic.

G
oogle was a beautiful thing. I clicked PRINT on my computer screen and waited for the pages to print out. I plucked the sheets from the printer and stared at the mug shot some more. Apparently, Kendrick Simmons had been arrested last year on domestic abuse charges just days after his eighteenth birthday so his records weren't sealed. He'd gotten off on probation, but the proof that he was abusive was right here in black and white. I don't know why I hadn't thought to Google him back when I was looking up all that stuff on Demond.

I stuffed the papers in my Birkin bag, slipped on my shoes, and headed to Kennedi's to break the news. I'd triple-checked to make sure there were no more cases of mistaken identity. There was no doubt about it; this was Kennedi's man. If this wasn't enough to get my friend to leave Kendrick alone, I didn't know what was.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing in front of Kennedi's mom, who seemed grateful to see me.

“Maya,” she said, hugging me. She had on her signature Michael Kors velour sweat suit (I swear, that woman has one of those things in every color).

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside and motioning for me to come in. “I have no idea what's going on with my daughter, but maybe you can cheer her up.”

“Hi, Mrs. Laura. I'll try.” I headed down the hallway to Kennedi's room. Even though they had just moved in, her mom had already had the entire house fixed up. Photos of Kennedi from birth on lined the hallway. The smell of lavender—her mother's favorite fragrance—drifted through the air. I stopped just outside of Kennedi's door, which was tightly closed, and knocked.

“Come in,” Kennedi called out.

I gently eased the door open. The room was pitch black. Kennedi was sitting on the bed, like she'd just been sitting there staring out into space. “Hey, K. You up?”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling her legs up underneath her and tossing her phone on the bed.

“Your mom let me in.” I flipped on the light. “What are you doing sitting up in here in the dark?”

She stared at her phone. “Just trying to text Kendrick. He's not responding.”

I took a deep breath. I was starting to think maybe my friend was mentally ill. I'd heard of being lovesick, but I didn't know it was real.

“Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Maya, please don't start,” Kennedi said, getting up and walking away from me.

“I'm not trying to start anything. You're my girl and I care about you and I don't want to see you hurt.”

“I'm not hurt,” she finally said.

“Obviously, you're sitting here in the dark, going crazy.” I sighed, then lowered my voice. “Did sleeping with him make you like this?”

Slow tears trickled down her cheeks. I swear, I'd seen my friend cry more in this past month than I had since I'd known her.

“You know I was saving myself,” she said.

I walked up behind her and rubbed her back. “Okay, I get that. But it's no need to lose your mind over him.”

“I love him,” she said, not looking at me.

“Love doesn't hurt,” I told her. “And if you're dating an abuser . . .”

She moved away from me. “He's not an abuser.”

“Kennedi, you forget—I saw. Your clothes were ripped. He was struggling to contain his anger. I see how violent this relationship is.” I took a deep breath, then reached in my purse, pulled out the piece of paper, and handed it to her. “And then, there's this.”

“What is that?” she said, reaching out to take the paper. She studied the paper for a minute. “Are you investigating my boyfriend?” she screamed.

I held up my hand to stop her. “Before you flip out, let me explain. I only did it because I'm worried about you.”

She stomped away from me, furious.

“Really, Maya? How 'bout you mind your own freakin' business?” She tore the paper in half, balled it up, and tossed it at me as she said, “Oh, I forgot, you don't know how!”

I stared at her as the paper fluttered to the floor.

“Really, K?”

“I can't believe you!”

I couldn't believe how upset she was getting. I pointed to the paper on the floor. “And you think that's going to make it better?” I asked. “You think tearing up his mug shot is going to make the fact that he likes to hit girls go away?”

“You think you know everything!” she spat at me. “I knew about the arrest! It wasn't even like that.”

Now, I really was speechless. Kennedi knew? She actually knew that her boyfriend had been arrested for domestic assault and she didn't see anything wrong with it?

“Are you serious?” I finally asked. “So, you're okay with dating an abusive guy?”

“Leave it alone!” She walked over and grabbed my purse and thrust it at me. “I'm tired. I'll talk to you later.”

“Seriously, K? You're kicking me out?”

“Bye, Maya. I just want to be left alone.”

I just stood, staring at her. “We were supposed to be going to the movies.” Even when Kennedi had agreed earlier to go to the movies, I'd known she was going to find a way to bail on me.

“I don't feel like it.” She held my purse out again until I took it.

“Fine, whatever,” I said, stomping toward the door. I didn't get it. Kendrick was the one laying hands on her. Kendrick was the one not answering her calls. Kendrick was the one giving her major grief. So, why in the world was Kennedi mad at me?