Authors: Brenda Woods

Emako Blue (2 page)

BOOK: Emako Blue

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I walked up the steps slowly, cleared my throat three times, and sang a song called “Santa Baby” that Eartha Kitt had made famous. It was a song my mama always played at Christmastime, a song I knew all the words to. When I finished, a few people clapped and Mr. Santos gave me a thumbs-up. I made it, I thought. I laughed out loud and returned to my seat.

“You can sing,” Emako said.

I thought she was just messing with me. “Yeah, right.”

“No, for real. What’s your name?”

“Monterey,” I replied.

“My name’s Emako. Holler at you t’morrow,” she said as she walked out of the auditorium into the sun.

I looked at my watch. It was almost four-thirty. I picked up my backpack and left like a deer, quietly.

I went outside and sat down under a tree on a low brick wall in front of the school, waiting for my daddy to pick me up. Cars rolled by and a warm breeze blew. It was a perfect day in L.A. I put on my sunglasses to keep from squinting into the sun.

I thought about Emako and wondered why I had never seen her before and why she would even talk to me. Girls like her hardly ever did. They usually acted like I wasn’t around, like I was invisible, like I was a nobody. My best friend, Simone, had moved away over the summer and I felt kind of lonely. I took a deep breath and looked at my watch.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as I climbed into the car.

“You’re always late,” I replied, and turned on the radio. “I could always take the bus, you know,” I added. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“You’re the only little girl I have and I don’t want you taking the bus. It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me. You worry too much, Daddy.”

“Monterey?”

“Yes?”

“Didn’t we just talk about this yesterday?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Let’s just say that I don’t want to talk about it again, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled. “I made it into chorus,” I added.

“That’s sensational. My little girl can sing,” he said with a smile.

Little girl.
Those words made me want to scream, but instead I just turned up the radio and looked out of the window, hoping I would get home in time to watch
106 & Park.

We got home just as it started. I hurried to my room, locked the door, and turned on the TV.

I had only been home for about five minutes when I heard my mama open the garage door to come into the house. She knocked on my door. “Monterey?”

“Yeah?”

“How was school?” She asked the same question every day.

I gave the same answer every day: “Fine.”

She tried the doorknob. “Why’s the door locked? Haven’t I told you not to lock your door?”

“I’m not a baby anymore. I’m fifteen and it’s my room.”

“Monterey, are you tryin’ to get fresh with me? Open this door.”

I opened the door partway and peeked. “I made it into chorus.”

“My baby can sing! It’s what I tell everyone. I say, my baby can sing!” She hugged me tight.

I squirmed. “Mama, it’s just the chorus.”

“I know. But still. I’m so happy for you,” she said as she released me.

“Thanks,” I said, and closed the door. I locked it quietly, waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t.

I could hear one of her old-school CDs playing while she was cooking.

Daddy was outside watering
his
grass.

I stayed in my room until dinner was ready.

I didn’t see Emako again until the first day of chorus practice.

“Monterey?” Mr. Santos said. “I want you in the second row, next to Emako.”

“Okay,” I responded. Great, I thought. Now no one will hear my voice.

“Hey, Monterey,” Emako said as I squeezed in between her and that girl with the big butt, Savannah.

“Hey, Emako.”

I looked at Savannah. “Hey,” I said, but she turned her head and looked away. I started to feel invisible.

Emako saw what Savannah did and whispered, “What’s up with bubble butt?”

I giggled and shrugged my shoulders.

“Question number one: Are we here to sing or to talk?” Mr. Santos asked.

“We are here to sing,” a boy in the row behind me said loudly.

“Thank you, Mr. Eddie Ortiz, star tenor,” Mr. Santos replied.

“De nada,”
Eddie said, and took a bow.

I turned around and glanced at Eddie. He was Hispanic, with dark hair and green eyes. He smiled at me. I got nervous and started to bite my nails.

“Hi,” he said.

I couldn’t speak. I turned back to the front of the room. He is too cute, I thought.

Mr. Santos sat down at the piano. “Middle C. The most important note in music. Who can give me a middle C? Jamal?”

“Why you gotta pick on me the first day?” Jamal shook his head.

“Would you prefer that I wait until next week?” Mr. Santos asked.

“No,” Jamal responded, “I prefer that you wait until next year.”

Eddie was standing next to Jamal. “You a crazy fool,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Why you wanna disrespect me like that, Eddie? You spozed to be my dawg.”

“Okay, let’s settle down,” Mr. Santos said.

All we sang for one whole hour were scales and I started to wonder when this was going to start to be fun.

Finally, practice was over.

Jamal touched Emako on the shoulder and said, “Let me talk to you a minute.”

“About what?” Emako replied.

“About me and you.”

Savannah whipped around to stare at Jamal.

Jamal stared back. “You got somethin’ to say?”

“Player!” Savannah said. “Gina is my best friend.”

“Gina don’t own me!”

“I don’t have time for no nonsense,” Emako said. “Y ’all ’bout to make me miss my bus.” Emako walked away and I trailed along after her. She walked fast.

Emako saw her bus and started to run, but it left before she could get to it. “Now I gotta wait another hour, and my mama gotta get to work, and I’m spozed to be home by four-thirty cuz I gotta watch my little brother and sister, and now she’s gonna get all upset and try to make me quit the chorus.”

“I could ask my mama to give you a ride if you want me to,” I said. “Usually my daddy picks me up, but he’s at home becuz he fell down the steps and twisted his ankle. It turned all black and blue and he’s walking with crutches, but he still can’t go to work or drive the car.” I checked my watch. It was three forty-five. “She should be here at four. She’s always on time. Not like my daddy. He’s always late.”

Emako gave me a look like I was talking too much. “You sure? Cuz I don’t live around here.”

“I’m sure.”

We sat down together and waited.

“Did you go here last year? Becuz I don’t remember you.”

“No, I transferred from Truman.”

“In South Central?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “But I like it better here . . . on the Westside.”

“You live in South Central?”

“Always have. You live around here, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I figured.”

“Why you gotta say that?” I asked.

“I mean you just seem like you live on a nice little street with trees and all that, where nuthin’ real bad ever happens and you probably got a collection of Barbie dolls, PlayStation One and Two, your own DVD player, and a little pink bedroom.”

“I’m not rich or nuthin’.”

She was getting ready to say something when Mama honked the horn. I opened the car door and stuck my head in. “This is Emako and she needs a ride home becuz she missed her bus and she has to be home by four-thirty to baby-sit. I told her it would be okay. Okay?”

“Okay. Hi, Emako.”

“Hi, Miz . . .”

“Hamilton,” I said.

“Hi, Miz Hamilton,” Emako said, and climbed into the backseat.

“Where do you live, Emako?”

“Near Ninety-fifth Street and Dover.”

“Four o’clock,” Mama said. “We should be able to make it in time.”

“Thank you, Miz Hamilton,” Emako said.

“DeeDee, call me DeeDee,” Mama said, and put her foot on the gas.

Mama drove too fast. She always drove too fast. We rounded the corner and the tires screeched.

“Emako . . . isn’t that a Japanese name?” Mama asked.

“Yes,” Emako replied.

“What’s your last name, Emako?”

“Blue . . . Emako Blue.”

“What a beautiful name,” Mama said.

“Thank you,” Emako replied.

Oh, no, Mama’s going to keep talking, I thought. I turned on the radio to her oldies station and she started to hum. I took a deep breath and rolled down the window.

It seemed like magic as we made almost every green light and soon we were on Emako’s street.

“It’s the house on the corner,” Emako said.

It was a tiny yellow house with grass that needed cutting. We pulled up to the curb and Mama stopped the car.

“Thanks, Miz Hamilton.”

“DeeDee,” Mama reminded her.

“Thanks, DeeDee,” Emako said as she got out. “Later, Monterey.”

“Later, Emako.”

She waved at me from the front door and disappeared inside.

“She seems nice,” Mama said as we sped away.

“Yeah, she’s cool,” I replied. “Real cool.”

The next day I saw Emako at her locker.

“Monterey is just too much name for one person,” Emako said. She threw her books into her locker and slammed it shut.

“My little cousin tried to start callin’ me Rey, but my mama said that if she had wanted people to call me Rey, she woulda named me Rey,” I replied as we headed to chorus practice. “Why’d your mama name you Emako? You ain’t Japanese,” I said.

“Sure I am,” she replied.

“Sure you are what?”

“Japanese.”

“You don’t look Japanese.”

She laughed loudly and pointed her finger in my face. “You are too square, Monterey.”

“Come on, be serious,” I insisted.

“Okay. My mama used to know this Japanese nurse at County Hospital, where she worked before I was born. Her name was Emako and Mama liked her. She said she was real sweet. So Mama named me after her.”

“I got named Monterey becuz my mama got pregnant with me at the Monterey Jazz Festival. Maybe that’s why I like to sing.” I crossed my eyes.

Emako laughed again.

A tall, smooth, dark senior with a shaved head who played football and called himself Reggie H passed us in the hall. “Hey, Miss Emako.”

“Hey, Reggie.” Emako smiled at him like they had a secret. They watched each other walk away in opposite directions.

“You know him?” I asked.

“Yeah. My older brother Dante used to play Pop Warner football with him.”

“You been with him?”

“I ain’t been with nobody, yet.”

“Me neither.”

We entered the auditorium just as Mr. Santos started handing out sheet music. We were learning to read music.

Emako whispered into my ear, “This is wastin’ my time. All I gotta do is hear the music once, maybe twice, and I remember the melody. Sometimes I can pick up the harmony.”

I looked down at the sheet music, and as I took my place, I bumped right into Eddie. The skin on his face was tan. “Excuse me, Monterey,” he said.

“Hey, Eddie,” I said, trying to keep my mouth closed so that he wouldn’t see my braces. I took a deep breath. Eddie smiled and took his position behind me.

Emako whispered into my ear, “You like him, huh?”

“Like who?” I asked.

“Eddie.”

“He’s okay.”

“His eyes are pretty,” Emako said.

“For real,” I replied.

Mr. Santos looked at us and cleared his throat.

“Are we here to talk or to sing, Monterey?” Mr. Santos asked.

“To sing.”

Mr. Santos began to play the scales and our voices echoed them back.

BOOK: Emako Blue

11.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub