Losing Romeo (14 page)

Kierra—A New Friend?

I'm
bone tired. Between school, cheerleading and my responsibilities at home, I truly feel like that candle I'm burning at both ends is dangerously close to meeting in the center. I think I'd be able to sleep better if I knew where Deborah was. I haven't seen her since the evening she dropped McKenya and me off in front of the Rite Aid. Usually she's in bed asleep when we get up in the morning and just leaving for work when I get home from cheerleading practice. But her bed is empty in the mornings, and McKenya is sitting home alone when I get in from school to start dinner. I asked McKenya once where Deborah was, and she just shrugged her shoulders and kept on watching her cartoons.

What the hell?

I've really been trying not to panic, but that's not working anymore. I'm starting to think that she pulled the same stunt as Tyler's mom. I can't tell if she packed anything because she has so much shit, I can't tell if something is missing or
not. Yesterday, I called the Champagne Room, but trying to get information out of management about one of their dancers was impossible. Maybe she's been getting in after we leave for school and leaving earlier for some reason or another. Calls to her cell phone go straight to voice mail, and pleas for her to call home go unanswered.

So many times I have picked up the phone with the intention of calling the police to report a possible missing person, but each time I had to hang up when I thought about Child and Family Services showing up at the door and marching us to two separate foster homes. We have to stick together.

But food is running low at the house, and I'm going to have to figure out some way to get some money. I hope I won't have to get a job or something. Where on earth will I find the time to squeeze in a job?

Because of my lack of sleep last night, I conk right out in the middle of algebra class. Just when my trip to la-la land starts getting good, I feel a nudge at the back of my chair.

“Go away,” I groan. For some reason I think it's McKenya waking me up because she wants some breakfast. The nudge becomes a kick at the back of my chair.

“Ms. COMBS!”

My head jerks up from the desk at the sound of Mr. Griffin's raspy baritone. “Yes, sir! What?”

Everyone snickers because I've just been busted. My face burns with embarrassment while my gaze drifts toward Chris. His smirking face makes my blood boil.

Mr. Griffin, a Morgan Freeman look-alike, is clearly annoyed as he crosses his arms and stares down over the tops
of his glasses. “I was asking you the answer to the problem on the board that you're supposed to be working out.”

“Oh.” I rub the side of my face to make sure that I wasn't slobbering on myself. “I, uh—”

He shakes his head and I feel thoroughly chastised. “Mr. Hunter!” He pivots around and focuses his laser-like stare on Chris. “What about you? Surely, you've been working diligently on the correct answer?”

Chris becomes as ash-faced as I feel while nervously licking his thick lips. “Nah, nah. I got stuck working it out.”

Mr. Griffin sucks in a deep breath. “Let me remind you kids. The key to solving every problem is just following steps. You don't have to understand it. You just follow the steps.” He turns and moves down the aisle, finally calling on Miss Know-it-all, Allison Hart, who's having a conniption fit waving her hand at the back of the room, for the answer.

Minutes later, the class bell rings and I struggle to drag myself out of my chair. Just a couple more classes and then I can catch some Zs while Nicole drives us back to Oak Hill. Of course then I'll have to cook dinner and then find the strength to host a pajama/makeover party. I roll my eyes. I wonder if it will be considered rude if I fall asleep in the middle of my own party.

“Ms. Combs?” Mr. Griffin calls out to me before I'm able to escape his classroom.

Drawing a deep breath, I slowly turn around and face him. “Yes?”

He plops behind his desk and waves me over.

My shoulders drop. I'm really not in the mood for a
lecture. I thread through a stream of kids going in the opposite direction until I reach Mr. Griffin's desk in the corner of the room.

“Is everything okay with you?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

“Yeah,” I lie effortlessly. Unfortunately, he doesn't look like he's buying it.

“Is there a problem with you not getting enough sleep at home?”

This time I just shake my head.

Mr. Griffin cocks his head and stares me down. “Since you don't seem to have much to say on the matter, maybe I should just discuss this with your parents?”

“Humph! Good luck with that. You'll need a Ouija board to talk to my father, and you'll need to be put on the visitor's list at the prison to speak to my mother.”

The smug expression slides off his face. “Grand-parents?”

“Never met them.” I cross my arms.

“Who is your guardian?”

I pause.

Mr. Griffin shrugs. “I can just get the information from your school records.”

This is the last thing that I need.
“Look, Mr. Griffin. I'm sorry about falling asleep in class. I just stayed up too late last night talking on the phone. I swear that it won't happen again.” I level him with my best puppy-dog eyes. It's not like I'm doing badly in this class, and I don't make a habit of falling asleep. I'm sure this is what's going through his mind while he studies me, because he finally starts nodding. “All
right, then.” He waves a finger directly in my face. “I'm going to be watching you, Ms. Combs. No more sleeping in my class.”

“Yes, Mr. Griffin.”

“All right. Off to your next class.”

I quickly hightail it out of there before he changes his mind and decides to insist on meeting with Deborah—wherever the hell she is.

“Mr. Griffin giving you a hard time?” The voice floats out to me from my right, and I turn in time to see a skinny boy who looks as if he should be in junior high and not high school.

“Excuse me?”

He rocks his head toward the classroom. “The teach. He wouldn't have to worry about people falling asleep in his class if he'd at least make the damn thing a little more interesting.”

I bob my head in agreement. “I didn't know you were in my class.”

“Most people don't notice me,” he says with a casual shrug. “That's the price I pay for being so short. Kierra, right?”

“Yeah…and you are?” I ask as we start strolling down the hallway.

“Drake. Drake Brown,” he answers with a head nod, and I smile. “I think I know what you need.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“To stay awake,” he says. “I used to fall asleep in class all the time. Between school, the school newspaper, the chess team, the track team—”

“You're on the track team?”

“I'm may be small, but I fly like the wind.” He turns up a smile. “Not to mention, I have piano lessons, karate lessons and I do work with the VolunTeen program at the children's hospital.”

“Wow.”

“Volunteer work looks good on college admissions,” he says. “I'm planning to go to Harvard.”

“Impressive.”

“What about you?”

“I don't know. Probably something like the Art Institute. I want to be a fashion designer.”

“Better start researching that stuff now—and aim to get into the best schools for that sort of thing.” He shrugs. “Maybe I can even help.”

Is he hitting on me?
“Yeah…maybe.”

Clearly my answer disappoints him because his smile evaporates from his face.

“Well. I didn't mean to bother you or nothing. I just thought I could help you out with your problem. I guess I'll just see you around the way.”

“Whoa. What's up?” I'm confused by the sudden change. I don't know the dude, but I'm both intrigued and suspicious about how he wants to help me. “So what did you do to keep awake in class?”

He glances around, and I do the same thing—not sure who we're looking out for. The next thing I know he's sliding something into my hand. When I start to look to see what it is, he hisses, “Hey, wait 'til you get to somewhere private before you peek at that.”

Drugs.

“And don't worry. Consider that on the house.”

“That's all right.” I shake my head and attempt to hand it back to him.

Drake tosses up his hands. “Nope. It's a gift.”

“I don't do drugs,” I hiss at him.

“Girl, please, that stuff is harmless. Just think of it like a heavy dose of caffeine.”

“Really?”

“It's just a little pick-me-up. Help you get through the day.”

He looks honest, but I'm from the projects. It's the innocent-looking ones that you have to look out for. “All right. Whatever,” I say, fully intending to flush his
caffeine
pills down the toilet the first chance I get.

But once I start to nod through seventh period, I pop those babies down my throat. And they definitely wake me the hell up.

Anjenai—Girls' Night

Some
party. Nicole looks depressed, and Kierra…well, I don't know what the hell is up with her. We left Nicole's Range Rover in the student parking lot and rode the school bus back to Oak Hill, where we were mercilessly teased about returning to LOSERSVILLE. We laughed. Kierra talked a mile a minute about…well, I'm not quite sure about that, either, since it seemed to have a little of everything and followed no logical train of thought—at least not to me. Then again, it's been a little difficult to concentrate with my thoughts tangled up with excitement about tomorrow night and worry about how things went down with Tyler today at court.

Last night when Tyler slammed that door in my face, my only thought was:
To hell with her.
However, after a night of crying my eyes out, I realized that I didn't really mean it. I'm still hurt, but I love my friend and I just have to let her go through whatever it is she's going through. I never told Kierra and Nicole about Tyler's new weed habit. It didn't
seem like my place, and it would feel too much like gossiping about someone we all cared about.

When we get to Kierra's place, I'm not surprised to see McKenya plopped in her usual position with her eyes on the television set. No doubt Deborah is just passed out asleep, since she works at night.

“Hello,” Nicole coos in her friendliest voice to McKenya.

McKenya doesn't even bother looking in her direction.

I grin and tell Nicole, “Don't worry. It's not you.” We take our overnight bags to Kierra's room, where teddy bears and fashion collages reign supreme. One thing about my girl Kierra is that she's incredibly clean and organized. Everything has its own special place, and she tends to go overboard to make sure things stay that way.

“Hold on for a minute. I'll be right back,” Kierra says, leaving us alone in her room while she goes down the hall. I hear her knock on her sister's door, but a few seconds later she returns with a long face and her eyes glossed with tears.

“What's wrong?” I ask, rushing over to her.

Kierra looks up at me, blinks and then shakes her head with a smile. “Oh, it's nothing, Deborah just headed out to work early. I wanted to catch up with her and ask her something. That's all. Don't worry about it.”

That's odd.
“She left McKenya here by herself?”

Kierra shrugs that off, as well. “It's no big deal.” Her smile stretches a little wider as she reaches for one of my braids. “I'm going to start dinner for McKenya, and then
we're going to have to get started taking those braids down. That's going to take at least a couple of hours.” She turns.

“Oh, well. I want to run next door to check on Tyler,” I tell her. “I'm dying to know how her court date went.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Nicole jumps in. “Since it's her first offense, I'm hoping that she just got a good smack on the wrist. Who knows, maybe now she realizes that she needs to leave those future jailbirds, Michelle and Trisha, alone?”

“I wouldn't count on it,” I mumble, remembering last night again.

Kierra shrugs. “All right. Sounds good. Let me just tell McKenya we will be right back.”

We all walk back through the living room. McKenya takes her sister's announcement with the same bored disinterest. Since Kierra and Tyler live in the same building, we aren't too concerned about leaving the apartment. However, the minute we start knocking on Tyler's door, that same anxiousness overcomes me. I'm not as optimistic as Nicole about Tyler just getting a smack on the wrist. And then Mr. Jamison answers the door with bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothes.

“Hello, Mr. Jamison,” I greet him, glancing over at Kierra and Nicole. “Is Tyler home?”

“Um.” He scratches the side of his face and then leans against the door frame. “I'm sorry, girls, but, um, Tyler is at juvenile hall.” He scratches again. “She's gonna be there for a little while.”

“How little?” I ask in a robotic voice.

“Six months,” he says.

Six months?
We all just stare at him.

“But I'll let her know that you came by to check on her,” he says, filling the awkward silence and reaching for the door. “I'll see y'all around.” He quickly closes the door, and we still stand there, a bit shell-shocked.

Kierra draws in a deep breath. “So much for that slap on the wrist.”

“Yeah. No kidding,” Nicole mumbles.

I'm fighting tears. I may be angry with Tyler, but I still love and care for her. We return to Kierra's apartment like a group of zombies. We sit down at the dining-room table, still darting glances at one another. It's clear we each want to say something, but what is there to say?

“Kierra, I'm hungry,” McKenya whines after muting the television. “When are you going to fix dinner?”

“Right now,” Kierra says, climbing back out of her chair.

“Here. Let me help,” I say. I need to busy myself with something or I'll just pull my hair out. “So what are we cooking?” I open the refrigerator and blink in surprise. It's damn near empty.

“Wow,” Nicole says behind me. “Looks like it's time to go to the grocery store.”

“Uh, yeah. I've been meaning to go,” Kierra says, wiggling in between us and closing the refrigerator door and then opening the freezer.

At least there is more food in there.

“We're having lasagna,” she informs us and then grabs a big red box before heading toward the oven. “I figure that will be less work, and we can go ahead and get a jump on those braids.”

I shake my head. “To tell you the truth, I don't feel much like going now.”

“Why?” Kierra asks, ripping open the box.

“Because of Tyler's situation,” I admit.

“Sooo what? You're going to make Kwan wait to go out with you for six months? That doesn't make much sense.”

“I have to agree,” Nicole co-signs.

“C'mon. We kinda knew this might happen. I don't like it any better than you, but if there's one thing I know for sure it's that Tyler can take care of herself. The girl is tough as nails.”

She does have a point.

“Besides, I'll never forgive you if you let someone like Kwan get scooped up by someone like Bianca. She's already on him like white on rice and you need to show Romeo that you don't have any problem replacing his ass.”

I laugh at that. “He could care less. Did you see him and Phoenix tongue boxing in the cafeteria today? They should've just gotten a room.”

Kierra shoves our dinner into the preheated oven. “Actually, I was a little surprised by that. The last couple of weeks it looked like those two were breaking up. Didn't you think so, Nicole?”

Nicole is unusually silent during the gossip, so we both turn toward her. She's biting her lower lip as if it's helping her keep quiet.

“Nicole?”

“Um?”

Her innocent act needs a little more work. “What are you
not
saying?”

“Nothing,” she squeaks.

Kierra and I fold our arms and stare her down.

“I…can't,” she admits, frowning. “I gave my word to someone.”

“Oh—your word?” I look at Kierra. “That sounds serious.”

“It is. You have no idea,” she says, but it's clear that she wants to spill the beans.

I stare at her harder, but when I know that she's just seconds from breaking, I decide to cut her a break and toss up my hands. “Well, that's very admirable. I don't want you to break your word.”

“I don't know about that,” Kierra says. “It depends on how juicy this information is.”

“Veeerrrry juicy,” Nicole says.

“Well, now you
have
to tell,” Kierra says. “How can you just tease us like that? That's not right!”

I agree. “Who exactly did you give your word to?”

Nicole bit her lower lip.

“Phoenix?” I guess.

When she doesn't answer, I'm incredulous. “Since when are you and your sister tight enough to be exchanging secrets?” I'm a little put off by this latest development. Here we invited Nicole into our close circle, but if she's now building a bond with her bitch of a sister…well, it's a problem. Nicole clearly reads my expression and out the gate she starts tripping over her words.

“Look. I
know
what you guys are thinking. It's nothing like that. I just stumbled in on Phoenix, crying her eyes out—”

“Crying?” Kierra and I thunder. Probably because we have a hard time imagining Phoenix crying about anything.

Nicole holds up her hands. “Look. I've already said too much. She'd kill me if she found out that I told you guys that—” Nicole stops herself by slapping a hand over her mouth.

Kierra and I grab her by opposite arms and drag her back to the bedroom where we dump her onto the bed and then stand over her with our arms crossed.

“Spit it out,” we demand.

“I can't,” she whines, wringing her hands. “I promised.”

Okay. This is going to require a different tactic. I sit down next to her on the bed. “Look, Nicole.” I wrap my arm around her. “I think it's admirable that you want to keep your promise to someone. But to Phoenix? Think back to all the humiliation that she and the Redbones have put you through over the years. I mean, now that they've fallen out, she wants to turn to you for what? Sisterly love?”

“Yeah. That's mighty convenient, don't you think?” Kierra joins in. “Think about it. What has Phoenix
ever
done to deserve your loyalty? Where with us, you know we'll
always
have your back.”

Nicole's gaze darts back and forth between us before she finally caves and tells us Phoenix's shocking secret.