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Authors: Celeste O. Norfleet

Getting Played (8 page)

BOOK: Getting Played
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“So you know I'm doing the party thing next week.”

“Oh, really,” I say, acting mildly surprised.

“It's Friday night at the house. You should come,” he adds. Chili's jaw drops. It's like she can't believe what she's just heard. I can tell she is getting pissed off. That was the whole idea. It was always so easy to push her buttons. She hits LaVon's arm and he stumbles to the side and looks at her.

“Hey, what up with you?” he says.

“Hello, excuse me. Do you not see me standing here? What the hell you smiling and acting all nice to her for,” she yells. “You with me now, remember that. This is your baby.”

“That's debatable and you know it,” he snaps back.

“I hate you,” she rages.

“Hey, it was your idea to come over here. I'm just talking.”

“That ain't talking. It's you trying to get with her right in front of me. I can't believe your stupid ass.”

“Ah, girl, shut up and be quiet. Ain't nobody doing anything in front of you.”

“Don't be telling me to shut up. I don't have to be quiet. You don't own me. I can say and do whatever I want.”

“Damn, Chili, hormonal much?” Diamond mutters quietly, but everybody hears her. We all burst out laughing. LaVon laughs, too.

Chili really starts to freak out. She is furious. “I hate your ass,” she yells real loud. Just about everybody in the immediate area turns around and looks at her.

“Just shut up,” he says. “You're just mad because she got you. I told you to leave it alone, but no, you had to come over here and be starting something. You just should have left it alone,” he says.

After that she really goes off on him. We can barely understand a word she is saying. 'Cause when she's pissed she talks really fast and it come out half English and half Spanish. LaVon just gives up on trying to calm her down. He walks away. She follows, still screaming and yelling at the top of her lungs. “I hate you.”

We watch them leave. “Daaamn, girl, I cannot believe you just did that,” Jalisa says to me, smiling like crazy.

“Did what?” I say, acting all innocent.

“Don't even act like you don't know,” Diamond adds. “You smacked Chili down. I can't believe you did that. That was so cool.”

They laugh. Okay, I laugh, too. I knew exactly what I was doing. My grandmother always says if you want to get back at someone, pray for them. Well, I'm not about to do all that. So, I decided to do the next best thing and just be nice. Who would have guessed it would work so well? We can still hear Chili yelling her head off.

“You know this is gonna be all over school tomorrow. She came over here to get in your face and start something and walked away looking like a fool. And LaVon…”

“I know. He went along with it. How'd you know he would?”

“Because LaVon is LaVon,” I say simply. But for real, he probably still doesn't have a clue what he did that made Chili so mad. “He's clueless.” We look at each other and crack up laughing. After all this time it's still so easy to get to Chili. I don't know why she even bothers trying to step to me. I always put her butt back down. Jalisa and Diamond start talking about Chili and her crazy-ass in school. I just listen as I start thinking about Chili and LaVon. I was okay with it, really. I knew all about them, but I guess it's one thing to know about them and another to actually see them together.

Truth is, I am kinda hurt. Not that I want LaVon back. I don't. It just reminds me of being with my lawn mower guy. I miss him. I miss us and I still don't know what I did wrong.

After that, I'm not much in the mood to talk anymore. They understand. So Diamond and Jalisa drop me off at my dad's house. I don't mention anything about my dad selling it. I guess I'm still hoping it won't happen. I sleep in my
dad's office. He doesn't come home that night anyway. No surprise there.

Sunday comes and goes and so do I. I let go of the week end fast. There wasn't much point in hanging on to it anyway.

CHAPTER 8

A Fast Start to Nowhere

“I look up and see that I'm right back where I started. No matter what I do or how far I think I've gone, I'm still back to the beginning. Two steps forward and five back, it's the starting line all over again.”

—Facebook.com

I'm
at The Penn on Monday morning. Who would have guessed? I guess I should have, but whatever. I keep a low profile and just drift through the day trying not to be here. I accept the fact that I'm not going to Hazelhurst, so I guess I might as well make the best of what I have here. I am in first period when a note arrives for me. Ms. Grayson wants to see me. Shit. I forgot all about her. I go to her classroom and see her sitting at her desk waiting. She looks up when I enter. I don't say anything. “Have a seat, Kenisha.” I sit down. “I asked the counselor to sit in with us this morning. He should be here in a few minutes, but let's get started. How was your weekend?”

“Fine,” I lie.

“Good. Any problems?” she asks.

“Look, Ms. Grayson, I know you have to do the whole ‘Good Samaritan' teacher thing, but for real, I'm fine,” I state, and then turn seeing this white guy walk in. He is tall and tanned with wavy blond hair and looks a lot like that guy from the movies. He says good morning and walks over, taking a seat on the other side of me. “Kenisha, this is Mr. Martin. He's one of the school counselors here. I spoke to him earlier and asked him to sit in with us. I hope that's okay.”

I shrug. “Whatever. As I was about to say, I'm fine.”

“It's okay to talk to someone, Kenisha,” Mr. Martin says. “We're here to help you. We know adolescence is a difficult time. We just want to make things easier for you. You've gone through a lot in a short period of time, more than some adults have in a lifetime. As a school counselor, I'm here to…”

I tuned out as soon as he opened his mouth. Obviously no one is getting the point here. He keeps talking about how he can help me. Blah, blah, blah. Cut. Okay, I'm starting to get a little annoyed now. This is way too many people up in my business. I look down at my jeans and decide to ignore them. Mr. Martin keeps talking about being a teenager and how hard it is now compared to when he was growing up. News flash—who cares?

“Kenisha,” Ms. Grayson interjects, breaking Martin's “this is my life” mini-drama-down-memory-lane tirade, “you're an excellent student. I checked your school records here and at Hazelhurst Academy.” I look up suddenly and glare at her. What right does she have to go snooping through my records at Hazelhurst? She stops talking like she heard me
thinking or something. She nods. “You're upset,” she says. Martin looks at both of us like he missed something. Duh, he did. She knew when I looked up I was pissed.

“Yeah, why did you go through my Hazelhurst records? That has nothing to do with me being here.”

“You know it does. As a matter of fact, it has everything to do with it. This isn't your school of choice, I understand that. But the fact remains, you're here. So as I see it, you have two choices. Deal with it and make the best choices you can or don't and fail.”

We eye each other. I understand her completely. She wasn't talking about just failing her class or school. She was talking about failing at everything. Mr. Martin looks at her. He seems like he is in shock or something. “Actually, Kenisha, we have numerous programs we can offer that will allow you to…”

Ignoring him obviously isn't working. So, like a tiresome gnat, I need to swat his ass away from me. I turn to him. “Mr. Martin, I already have a psychotherapist. His name is Dr. Tubbs. He's in Virginia and I see him once a week. My counselor at Hazelhurst arranged it. So I really don't need another counselor trying to poke around in my head.”

I see Ms. Grayson smiling out of the corner of my eye. She was trying not to laugh.

He smiles and nods. “Okay, then. I guess I should let you two ladies handle your business.” He stands to leave having finally gotten my point. “But, Kenisha, know that my door is always open to you. If you need to see me, just leave class and I'll have a note sent to your teacher to excuse you.” I nod. He glances at Ms. Grayson, then leaves. Now the way
he looked at her made me wonder. Did they cook this good cop, bad cop thing up or what?

“Kenisha, have you ever heard of a congressional page?”

“No,” I say.

“It's a very prestigious position and a very unique opportunity. Being a page can open all kinds of doors for your future. Every year a huge number of students apply to be pages or assistants on Capitol Hill. Only a few are selected. I'd like to submit your name for consideration, but I can't if you're going to persist with your attitude.”

Okay, I have to admit, she got me curious with this page thing. “Don't you have to be related to somebody to do that?”

“No. As a matter of fact, relatives of seated members of Congress are specifically excluded from applying. You do, however, have to be sponsored by a member of Congress.”

“And you know a member of Congress?”

She just smiles. Okay, I have no idea what that means. But all of a sudden I feel like I am being bribed. She doesn't answer my question, and after that Ms. Grayson keeps at me to talk and open up. I don't know what her drama is. It's obvious it's not gonna happen. Now I swear to God, I just feel like screaming. A few weeks ago everything was great. Terrence and I were hanging out, Jade and Tyrece were engaged, I was on my way back to Hazelhurst Academy and life was just about good. Now this. Now everything. The bell rings. I'm out of here.

The rest of the school day is more of the same. Students walking around mindless and teachers thinking they know
everything. At the end of the day I see Troy in the hall. He mean mugs me. I just brush him off and keep walking. Thankfully, we don't have any classes together. As soon as the last bell rings I hurry to my locker and leave. I am probably the first person out of the building. I call my grandmother and tell her I am gonna stop at Freeman after school. The truth is, I really don't feel like being home right now.

I take a shortcut to Freeman and get there just as Ms. Jay is opening the doors for after-school classes. I walk in with her, and we talk a little bit as she goes to the office to give me a key to one of the private studios on the top floor.

“You're here early. Everything okay at school?”

“Yeah, everything's fine.”

“Penn Hall, right?” she asks. I nod. “A junior?” I nod again. “And you're not going back to Hazelhurst this year.”

“Nah, I'm gonna finish the year at The Penn.”

“I'm glad to hear that. I went to Penn Hall high school years ago. Of course it's way different now than it was when I was there. How's your grandmother and Jade? I haven't seen either of them in a while.”

“Everybody's fine.”

“Good.” She hands me the keys to the studio. “Lock up when you're done and drop the keys on my desk if I'm in class.”

“Okay. Thanks, Ms. Jay.”

I go up to one of the private studios on the top floor and dance awhile. But mostly I just look out the window and write in my recipe book. I would never have believed
I like writing so much. Dr. Tubbs said it's a good idea to write this stuff down. It's like a journal, but not really. I write thoughts, ideas, feelings and dreams all mixed up with recipes my grandmother gives me to try out. I just wrote about being back in The Penn. Now I'm just sitting and looking out.

I like being up high and looking down. I get a different perspective from my bedroom on the third floor at my grandmother's house and here on the fourth floor at the studio. It makes me feel like I'm above all the drama down there on the street below. But I also know the reality. I have to eventually climb back down and deal with all that crap.

An hour later, I still don't feel like going home, so I stop at the Pizza Place to get a soda and write some more. Ursula is just getting to work. She is early, so she sits and talks with me. “Hey, girl, I haven't seen you all weekend,” she says, while sliding into the seat across from me. “How was it?”

“It was all right, I was just hanging out in Virginia. What about you?”

“I was busy like crazy. One of the girls here just quit. We're shorthanded again. So now I have more hours. You sure you don't want to get a job here? The money's not bad and the tips are usually nice.”

“Why'd she quit?”

“Her mom made her. There was another break-in down the street over the weekend and she was scared this place might be next.”

“What do you mean another break-in over the weekend?”

“Girl, didn't you hear? There's been all these break-ins in the neighborhood lately. It's been going on for the past two weeks. I heard it's like a crew of four or five guys doing it. Everybody's talking about it at school. The police think it's all drug related, but they say that about everything that happens in the hood. Can't it just be some stupid break-ins?” she asks rhetorically, getting all militant.

“Maybe it is drugs,” I say.

“Nah, it doesn't sound like it to me. It's all too random and scattered, like a last-minute afterthought. It sounds like whosever's doing it are just playing games. They break in after hours but don't steal anything, not even money. They just drink soda and beer and eat stuff. But whatever, all I know is that they were talking to some of the guys at school.”

“What, at school?”

She nods. “Yep, they think it might be guys from The Penn.”

“Why do they think somebody there is part of this crew?” I ask, now more interested. Ursula shrugs. “Who did they talk to?”

“I don't know. That's just what I heard. I'm just glad D's still locked up or they'd be talking to his dumb-ass. I know they'd probably be looking at him, too. You know the cops came to our house when it first started, asking questions. It was like they were checking out all the usual suspects. I hate it when the cops come to my house.”

That reminds me… “I heard he's getting out,” I say.

She shrugs again. “I can't stand it. His dad is all pissed off that he's there. The night it happened, the cops came in
our house and found drugs in his room. I wasn't surprised, although my mom was shocked. They were stuffed in his stupid trophies. When you broke one over his arm and dropped it, some of the little packages came out and they were just lying there on the floor. The police knew all about D. They were just waiting to pull him in. That fight with Terrence made it happen. You know he's still pissed.”

“Drugs in the trophies, I didn't see any of that.”

“Yeah, girl, the cops were threatening to seize the house.”

“Oh, shit. Can they do that?”

“Oh, yeah, but they didn't do anything. Anyway, later I overheard my mom talking to my aunt about D. She said the assistant D.A. was talking about making a deal. But I don't know if he's gonna do it.”

“What kind of deal?” I ask. The first thing I thought was he'd try to pin all this on Terrence, but I was sure he wasn't that insane.

“He could get less time if he talked. Apparently the cops want whoever he's working for. It's some guy in Montgomery County. I don't know him, but I used to hear D talking on his cell with this guy named Dantee all the time. I think it's him.”

Shit. I know that name. Darien took me to his town house before everything happened. Dantee gave me the creeps. Seriously, he actually made my skin crawl. The two hoochies with him were acting all pathetic like they were scared to death of him. But for real, he was scary. He reminded me of some kind of modern-day slave trader or something. He was looking at me like I was a piece of meat. I guess I was supposed to act like I wasn't hearing anything,
but I heard what they were talking about. Ursula was right, he was Darien's boss.

“So, is he getting out or what?”

“I don't know. I hope not. If you ask me, he's right where he belongs. I know that sounds harsh. I know he's my half brother and family loyalty and all, but I really hate his guts.”

“I know what you mean,” I commiserate.

“So I heard you got pulled out of first period.”

“Who told you that?”

“Li'l T,” she says.

“How did he know?” I ask.

“Girl, you know how Li'l T be playing like that. He knows everybody's business. I swear the FBI and CIA need to hire him.”

I nod. It's so true. “It was nothing. Ms. Grayson, my U.S. History teacher, wanted to talk to me. That's all. Apparently, she doesn't like my attitude in her class.”

“I didn't know you had Grayson. I had her freshman year for World Geography. She's nice. I like her.”

“She's okay, I guess. She's just all up in my business.”

Ursula nods and smiles knowingly. “I know that's right. But she means well. She likes helping students. It's her thing. Whenever you have a problem, go to her, seriously. Her grandfather is some big shot senator or something. And for real, she talked me down from trying to poison Darien's butt most of my freshman year.”

I laugh. Knowing how Ursula hates Darien, I can just see Grayson trying to calm her down. “I guess it worked.”

“Barely,” she says. “But seriously, why don't you get a job here? I think you'd like it.”

I think about saying no again, but I figure, why not? I was already back in The Penn, so working in the neighborhood wouldn't be that bad. And if money was going to start being tight with my dad, I needed to get a job now. “I don't know, maybe. Where do I get an application?”

“I'll get one for you.” Ursula quickly grabs an application and I fill it out right then. There isn't much to it since this would be my first real job. I list working in the office at my dad's company as work experience and use my grandmother as a reference. I give the application back to Ursula, and she takes it to the owner. I am leaving when Ursula calls me back. The owner wants to meet me.

I go back to a tiny little office next to the kitchen and talk to the owner. I've been coming here forever, and I swear I had no idea this guy was the owner. We always spoke 'cause me and my girls were in here after dance so much. I thought he was just some guy who hung around working and getting free food. He was always cool with us, and he knew I was okay. All this is to say that I got the job. I still can't believe it happened that fast. They give me a large pepperoni pizza and I hurry home to tell my grandmother, but she isn't there. I go to the kitchen and put the pizza on the table. I get a slice and sit down to eat. I see my grandmother's bill folder on the table again.

BOOK: Getting Played
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