Kendra (13 page)

I look away from both of them and turn in my seat toward Darnell. He looks as confused as he can get, like he can tell something’s going on between me, Adonna, and Nashawn, but he’s missing it. “I can’t wait for the set striking tomorrow,” I tell him. “And it’s gonna be fun hanging out with everybody again afterward.”

“Yeah,” he says, still looking like he’s not getting something. “You’re coming to the diner, right?” He puts his hand on top of mine.

I nod. “Yeah. Sit next to me, okay?”

“Of course.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Nashawn watching us. I wish I could just forget about him and what happened and only think about Darnell, because I know he would treat me right. I mean, I wish I could just stop thinking about Nashawn altogether, but I can’t. Not yet.

“I can’t believe you’re really doing this,” I tell Adonna after we get off the bus. It’s not even four and I’m home from school on time for the first time since I started working on the showcase. But instead of getting to enjoy the hour and a half I have before Nana gets home, I have to make sure Adonna don’t do something stupid. “C’mon,” I say, following her to the beauty supply next to the liquor store. “Think about this.”

“It’s gonna look nice,” she says. “And I’m only gonna keep it in for the summer. Something new, that’s all.”

“But you don’t need a weave,” I tell her for the umpteenth time. “Your hair is already long.”

“I know, but I want it down my back. And then when it gets real hot out, all that hair’s gonna look real nice with my off-theshoulder tops.” She flips her imaginary hair and laughs. “And I’m gonna work it, too!”

When we walk into the store, the bells over the door ring and the owner looks up from the floor where she’s kneeling, putting some shampoo bottles on the shelf. She don’t say
anything to us, but she stares at us like we’re only there to steal something.

All the hair for weaving and braiding is hanging on the wall in the back. Adonna looks up and starts pointing. “Ooh, that one would look good on me.”

“The
red
one?”

“It’s not red, it’s auburn. Or maybe I’ll get brown with blond streaks.”

I sigh. “Adonna, this is stupid.”

But her eyes are all lit up as she stares up at the wall. “Don’t you ever want a change?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Well, so do I. And you know me. I
have
to look good.”

I hate when she says stuff like that, like looking good is the only thing that means anything to her. Like she’s not anything except somebody that looks good.

Adonna goes up and talks to the woman, and I just stand there looking around. They got all kinda hair relaxers and texturizers and straightening combs and flat irons. Then they got a whole row of acrylic nails and glue and rhinestones and stuff. Every time I come in here, I wonder if I’m ever gonna be into all this. Because, to me, all I see is a whole store about trying to be something you’re not.

“It’s
how
much?” Adonna has her hands on her hips now and she’s staring at the owner like she’s crazy.

“Twenty-nine dollars for each pack,” the woman tells her. “And you’re going to need two.”

Adonna turns to me. “I don’t have that kinda money, Kendra.”

I almost say, “Why don’t you ask your mother?” But,
knowing her, she would, and then Grandma would end up giving away more money that she don’t even have.

“I sell half-packs,” the lady says. “You can try a pack and a half, but if you want it to look full, you should get two.”

“Forget about it,” I tell Adonna. “Your hair is so beautiful.”

She smiles and runs her hand through her hair. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon.” I go over, grab her arm, and pull her outta the store before she can find something else to buy.

Outside, it takes Adonna a few seconds to move away from the store. I have to do more convincing, soup her up a little more. “You know most of the girls around here wish they had hair like yours,” I tell her. “If you get a weave, all you’re gonna do is look like everybody else, and that’s not you. You don’t copy other girls.”

It works. We start walking to our building. The only problem is, now that I’m not trying to talk her outta getting a weave, we’re kinda quiet. Even she’s not talking, which is definitely weird, and I can’t help but think it has something to do with me not telling her about the computer lab. I’m just hoping she don’t start asking me questions about that.

So I tell her, “Darnell kissed me.” Just like that.

She stops walking. “He did?” Now she’s smiling. “That’s good!”

“I didn’t expect it, but all of a sudden it was just kinda happening!”

Adonna giggles. “Well, did you kiss him back?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, yeah, kinda. It happened too fast.”

We start walking again. “I told you he likes you,” Adonna says, sounding more like her old self. “You really need to start listening to me when it comes to guys.”

For some reason, when she says “guys” my mind goes immediately to Nashawn, where it’s been on and off all day. After lunch, all through my classes, I kept thinking about him sitting right across from me and talking to me like that. It’s weird that me and him did so much together and it’s only now I’m starting to get to know him.

“So, when did Nashawn ask you out?” I ask her finally. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Adonna is smiling. “Oh, I didn’t?”

“No,” I say. “You know you didn’t.”

She tries to act like it’s nothing. “Oh, he asked me out yesterday. We’re just going to the movies in the afternoon. Nothing special.”

Oh, yeah. Like this isn’t something you’ve been waiting for, for like the last three months.

We get near our building and Adonna grabs my hand and says, “C’mon, I wanna show you what I’m gonna wear on Saturday.”

When she’s with Nashawn. On their date.

As soon as we get close to Kenny’s truck, he sticks his head outta the window and calls out to us, “Wait up.”

Adonna sighs. “Not another one of these father-daughter moments,” she says under her breath. “Like you guys don’t see each other every single day.”

“Adonna,” Kenny says, “I gotta tell you something. Before you go upstairs and find out for yourself.”

Adonna folds her arms in front of her. “What?”

But we have to wait for Kenny to open the back door and come over to where we’re standing. And when he does, he still has the serious look on her face, and it has me kinda scared, like maybe something really is wrong. “Is Grandma okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“What, then?” Adonna asks.

“It’s about your bedroom, all that furniture your father got for you. The bed and dresser and all that. It’s gone. Them dudes from Rent-A-Center came a couple hours ago and took all that shit back.”

“
What
?” Adonna asks. “What are you talking about? He didn’t rent that stuff. He bought it for me.”

Kenny walks closer to her. “He lied. All that shit was rented and the asshole didn’t keep up with the payments. I ain’t surprised, knowing him the way I do.”

Adonna has her mouth hung open. Kenny might not be surprised, but she definitely is. “What, what am I gonna do? I need my stuff.” And she starts to cry, like, for real. “What am I supposed to sleep on?
The floor?
”

Kenny goes over to her and tries to put his arm around her, but she don’t let him. “Stop,” she says, pushing him off. “Leave me alone.”

Me and Kenny look at each other, and he looks as helpless as I feel. I mean, I don’t know what to say or do, either. I know what that furniture meant to her. A lot more than something to sleep on and put her clothes in.

Adonna stands there crying for a little while longer, then this girl Asia that lives in our building comes down the street in our direction, and Adonna wipes her eyes and shrugs. “Forget
about it,” she says. “I don’t give a shit. I don’t even want his fucking furniture.”

By the time Asia reaches us, Adonna looks more mad than sad. And she’s hiding behind her attitude. Asia waves to us and says hi, and we all say hi back, but as soon as she goes by, tears come down Adonna’s face again.

She pulls on my arm. “C’mon, Kendra. I’m not gonna stand here all day.” I wave bye to Kenny and walk into the building with Adonna, still not knowing what to say to her.

I leave Adonna’s apartment and get downstairs to mine about ten minutes before Nana gets home from work. It was hard being with Adonna, because she was so sad, just crying and talking about her father and how he lied to her. And seeing her room practically empty like that was really depressing. I mean, it looks like she got robbed or something.

Nana comes right into the kitchen and starts heating up some leftovers, and even she looks kinda down today. Extra tired.

“You feeling okay, Nana?” I ask, thinking that maybe she got the flu from me or something.

“Yeah,” she says, sighing heavy. “I’m fine.”

“Is Renée coming home tonight?”

“No, she don’t have to work on Fridays, so she went to Gerard’s place. Then tomorrow, they’re going to Princeton to pack up that apartment. Because she’s moving into her new place on Saturday.”

It’s really happening. She’s moving out on her own.

Me and Nana don’t say anything for a while. I drink some more orange juice and take another Comtrex, and I sit at the table while she cooks. It’s weird, because the apartment is so quiet and it’s like Renée is missing even though she was only here for a few days, and even then she was hardly ever here. But when she’s here, it’s like the place is more alive or something. There’s always music playing and singing and the cell phone is always ringing. And now there’s nothing.

When dinner is ready, Nana puts her plate on the dinner tray and goes into the living room to watch Lifetime. She hasn’t been watching it these last couple of days, ever since Clyde started coming around. But now she’s back again. And I don’t know if this means something.

At the commercial, I sit next to her on the couch and ask, “Is everything okay, um, between you and Clyde?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she says. “He wanted to take me to a jazz club tomorrow night where a friend of his is going to be playing, but I told him I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“His friend don’t start playing ’til ten o’clock. And I can’t leave you here alone, especially late at night.”

“But I’m going to be at the set striking, remember? And then we’re all going out to dinner.”

She looks at me and shakes her head. “I don’t want you coming home to an empty apartment.”

“I can spend the night with Adonna,” I say but then I remember about her bedroom set and I’m not really sure that’s gonna work actually.

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” The commercial is ending. And as the show comes back on, she says to me,
“I invited Clyde over for dinner on Saturday, so everything’s okay.”

Then she turns her attention back to the screen. Away from me.

I sit there next to her, feeling really bad for her. And guilty. I mean, I’m still the reason she can’t live her life the way she wants.

And it’s not fair. Renée was supposed to take me with her. And Nana was supposed to finally be free.

“In the theater community, the striking of the set is considered a ceremony. A ritual. It is a celebration of what has been created and a way to honorably deconstruct it, to return the stage to its original state—an empty space—one that awaits becoming another world.”

Sitting there on the stage, with my feet hanging over the edge, all I can think is, Mr. Melendez can really get corny sometimes.
Seriously
.

“But first,” he says, pacing back and forth in front of the stage, “we must pay respects to the one who had the initial vision.” He nods his head in my direction. “And to those who took those early sketches and transformed them into blueprints.” The whole group of us from his class smile. “And to all of you who took those blueprints and built this beautiful set.” Now we all have to clap for ourselves, for all the hard work we put into everything. “So today, the striking of the set is a way to pay homage to our work and respectfully let it go.”

I like Mr. Melendez, even when he’s this theatrical.

“Before we begin, I want to tell you all about a production I’m going to be involved with this summer at a small theater on the Lower East Side. I’m managing a production of a play written by an up-and-coming playwright from the Dominican Republic. I’ve already designed the set, but it will need to be built during the month of July. I say all of this because I’d like to invite all of you, anyone who is not working or going away for the summer, to work with me on this production, mostly in the shop—building, painting, and assembling. I can provide you with MetroCards for transportation and a small stipend for meals and snacks, but otherwise it’s a volunteer gig. You will learn a lot, work with professionals, and have some fun this summer. Let me know if you’re interested and I’ll give you the information.” He stops pacing, finally. “Okay, guys, it’s time to strike the set!”

Everybody jumps up like they’re anxious to get started, but for me it’s kinda sad that the whole thing is really over. My first play. I never thought I was gonna like it this much.

As a matter of fact, if it wasn’t for Mr. Melendez, I would have been happy just sketching house plans for myself. I never thought about why, really, but maybe I thought one day me and Renée would actually get to build our own house and we’d use one of my plans or something. Like that was ever gonna really happen.

Before I can even stand up, the guys rush straight for the tools in the back of the room, the hammers and saws and everything. They look so excited, too. Mara comes over, grabs my hands, and helps me up. “Look at them,” she says.

I laugh. “We better save what we can from the set. Fast!”

And we do. We push the table and chairs and cardboard
television set off to the side for their own protection. Then we run back for the bookcase with the fake books and the big plastic vase with all the paper flowers. Not even two seconds later, the guys attack the set.

“Boys, boys, boys,” Mr. Melendez yells. “This is a dismantling, not a demolition. You’re theater production people, not a wrecking crew.”

“Oh, man,” Gregg says. “That ain’t right.”

Darnell pushes his protective glasses up onto his forehead. “C’mon, Mr. Melendez. This is supposed to be fun.”

“Fun,” Mr. Melendez says. “
Safe
fun.”

Me and Mara push one of the chairs toward the storage room in the back, away from the noise and possible flying wood. “Thanks for taking me out to dinner the other night,” she says.

“You already thanked me,” I say. “And anyway, Clyde paid for everything.”

“So, did you find out anymore info? Is he really her boyfriend?”

“I think so. I mean, she invited him to come over for dinner tomorrow night. And she even joined Curves!”

We both laugh.

“I don’t know how I’d feel if my grandmother had a boyfriend,” Mara says, shaking her head. “But she’s sixty something. And that’s just plain nasty.”

“Mine just turned forty-nine.”

“That’s weird,” she says. “My
mom
is forty-five.”

I don’t wanna tell her that my mother is only twenty-eight. Not everybody has to know that she had me so young. I mean, not that it’s all that embarrassing or anything. It’s just that it’s not everybody else’s business.

When we get to the storage room, Mara whispers to me, “So what’s up with you and Darnell?”

“What do you mean?” I try to act all innocent, but I can’t help smiling.

“C’mon, I’m not blind. Y’all are staring at each other, and he makes these faces whenever you’re around—you know, like
love
faces.”

“Love faces?”

“Or maybe lust faces, but you know what I mean. He really likes you.”

I look at the door to make sure nobody’s around, then I tell her about the phone call and how he kissed me yesterday.

“I knew it!” she says. “He’s in love!”

“Stop it,” I say. “He didn’t say anything about love. He said he likes me. That’s it.” I look around again. “Anyway, with my grandmother on my back all the time, I shouldn’t even be thinking about guys. She’s never gonna let me have a boyfriend.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to know everything!”

As the guys tear the set apart, me and Mara spend about forty-five minutes putting everything that can be saved into the storage room, especially any wood that can be used again. The storage room is real small, so while Mara’s out collecting more stuff, I get up on the stepladder and try to make room for some of the small decorations on one of the shelves.

My back is turned when I hear the door close. And when I turn around to look, Nashawn is standing there wearing track shorts and a sweaty black T-shirt.

“Can you get outta this?” he asks.

“Um,” I say, staring at him, trying not to fall off the ladder,
and trying not to let myself get all caught up in him again. “What are you doing here?”

“I went for a run out on the track.” He looks at his watch. “I’m gonna take a shower and come back for you in twenty minutes. Meet me at the side door.”

I nod, not knowing what to say. Then he opens the door and he’s gone, and my heart is beating fast. He’s coming back for me. What does that even mean? Is he taking me somewhere? Where? I feel like my body is shaking from the inside.

Mara comes back in the storage room with the curtains from the apartment set. “Look what still survived.” She stops and looks at me. “Everything okay?”

I shake my head, slow. “I don’t know. I feel…” I wish I could tell Mara some of what’s going on. I don’t think she would tell anybody. But I can’t say any of this out loud, because I know it won’t make sense to anybody else.
I
don’t even get it. “Um, I don’t know,” I say. “I kinda feel sick again.”

“You want to sit down for a while in the auditorium?” she asks. “Maybe all the dust in here is getting to you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, like that’s what it is.

I pass Darnell on the stage. He looks like he’s having fun, carrying one of the set walls with Gregg. He smiles when he sees me and I smile back, but I don’t know what to feel.

I sit down in the front row and watch everybody work for a few minutes, still not sure what to do. I mean, I can’t leave now. I already told Darnell I’d sit next to him at the diner, and maybe he was planning on kissing me again. How wrong would it be for me to just leave like that?

But then there’s Nashawn, and I don’t want him waiting for me, either. Can I just leave him out there and not show up?
That wouldn’t be right, either. And what does he mean, he’s coming back for me? Why? What does he want?

I’m going back and forth in my head for a while, then, before I can stand to think about it anymore, and before I even know what I’m doing, I’m walking over to Mr. Melendez, who’s ripping nails out of a big piece of plywood with the back of a hammer, and I’m saying, “Mr. Melendez, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He looks up at me and takes his glasses off. “You okay, Kendra?”

“No, not really.” I take a deep breath. “I’m, um, not feeling that good anymore. I think I’m getting sick again. Maybe. Is it okay if I leave now?”

He looks around, and even though the stage is still a big mess, he says, “I think we have everything under control here. Sure, go home and get some rest.”

I nod.

“You did a great job here, Kendra.”

I smile, weak, feeling horrible now. I should be here to finish this.

Instead, I walk real slow back to the storage room and tell Mara I’m gonna leave early.

“That’s not right,” she says, giving me a hug. “You’re gonna leave me with all these guys?”

“You love it,” I tell her. “Look how much attention you’re gonna get.”

I grab my book bag from off a chair and wave good-bye to her. I’m on my way to the side door when I run into Darnell. “You leaving?” he asks. And he’s not hiding how upset he is.

“I’m sorry,” I say right away, and I really am, too. “I’m starting to feel sick again and I don’t wanna, you know—”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, and the way he says he knows makes me think he’s talking about Nashawn, that he knows something about us. But he’s not. He’s really just worried about me. “Feel better. And I’m gonna call you over the weekend, even if I have to put up with another interrogation from your grandmother.”

I smile. “Okay.”

He waves bye to me, then I open the side door.

Nashawn’s already standing there in the hall waiting for me. Right out in the open.

“Good,” he says to me. “You’re ready.”

I look back over my shoulder, hoping Darnell isn’t still standing there. But he is. He’s staring past me, right at Nashawn. Hard.

“Um,” I say to Darnell, trying to think of some kinda explanation, but his eyes look different now, angry and cold. Hurt. “Darnell, I—”

Nashawn takes my hand and says, “C’mon.”

It feels good, his hand on mine. And while I wanna figure out something to say to Darnell, really, there’s nothing I
can
say. So I turn away from him and walk out into the hall with Nashawn. And the heavy door closes loud behind me.