Losing Romeo (5 page)

“I think so. What? You think that she should get an abortion?”

“NO! I did not say that.” She waves her finger at me.
“I'm just trying to find out whether you two have reviewed all your options. I want to know how you feel about this situation.”

The question stumps me. “Truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“Trapped.” Ashamed that's how I feel, I quickly add, “I know keeping the baby is the right thing to do. This mistake isn't the baby's fault. But the way I see it is that we don't have that many options. I'm not killing my child.”

“I understand and can respect that.” She settles back into her chair. She still has this stunned look of disbelief. Maybe she hoped that I would come in here and laugh at the rumors instead of validating them. I wish I could have.

“Have you been to a clinic?” she asks.

“What for?”

“If you're sexually active, you need to know your status.”

“What do you mean? I've only had sex with one girl.”

“And how many men has she had sex with?”

“One!”

“Are you sure?”

I immediately think about how Phoenix loved to flirt with other guys in front of me in an attempt to make me jealous.

Aunt Thelma reaches for the phone.

“Whoa. Who are you calling?”

“Who do you think?”

“Wait a minute!” I leap out of my seat. “That's not part of your job.”

“Excuse me?”

“We're not talking as aunt and nephew here. It's not your job to call my parents and inform them about something that has nothing to with my school life. It's personal and none of my
principal's
business. This is between Phoenix and me. We will talk to our parents when
we're
ready and not before.” I've never talked to my aunt like this, and I can tell that she's more than a little surprised.

After another long and loud silence, she finally sets the phone back into the cradle. “All right, then. I'll respect your wishes on this.”

“Thank you.”

“But you will carry your butt down to the clinic and get yourself checked out.”

That's something I can agree to. “Yes, ma'am.”

She stands up again and walks around her desk. Before I know it, we're hugging each other. “Look. I just want you to know that I'm here if you need me. Your principal, your aunt—your friend. I'm always here if you need to talk. Okay?” She cocks her head.

“All right, Aunt Thelma.” We hug it out again and exchange “I love you”s before I head back off to class.

Anjenai—The New Guy

“Where
the hell is Tyler?” I ask Nicole after Romeo runs out of the gym. She'd recently transferred into this class after deciding that choir wasn't for her.

She shrugs her shoulders and hardly spares me a look. “I don't know.”

“What's wrong with you?” I ask, concerned.

“Nothing.” Nicole shrugs again.

I'm not buying it. Something is obviously wrong. I take her by the arm and pull her aside. “Are you sure that you're all right? You look as if—”

“It's nothing.” She tries to put on a smile but fails miserably. In fact, she looks like at any second she's going to burst out crying.

“Nicole.”

“Really, Anjenai. It's nothing.” She sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “Just forget about it. Okay?”

Reluctantly, I nod.

Coach Whittaker blows her whistle. “I want everyone to
give me twenty laps around the court. Once you're done, take a seat on the bleachers.”

Everyone moans and gripes. A few girls are already pulling out doctor's excuses so they can sit out.

Coach Whittaker rolls her eyes and blows her whistle. “LINE UP!” She turns to the new guy, Kwan. “I know that you didn't bring a change of clothes, so you're excused and can sit this run out, if you'd like.”

Kwan shrugs his shoulders and heads on over to the bleachers. I casually check out his profile. He's cute.

“What grade is he in?” I whisper to Nicole.

“I don't know. I think someone said that he was a sophomore,” she says dispassionately, which causes me to frown at her again. I really wish that she would tell me what's bothering her, but if I'm learning anything this year it's how to stay in my lane. I'm not going to push. She'll talk to me when she's ready.

I steal another peek at the new guy and I'm momentarily thrown off my game when I find his gaze locked onto me, as well. He's actually really good-looking. Kind of reminds me of Trey Songz. Same complexion, pouty lips and mesmerizing brown eyes. And he can dress, too. His lines are so clean he looks like he is brand-new.

“I wonder where he's from,” I whisper.

Nicole doesn't say anything. She's gone back to looking lost inside her own little world.

Coach Whittaker blows her whistle again, and everyone takes off running around the court.

With Nicole being so quiet, I find myself wondering
where Tyler is again. Is she really hanging out with Billie Grant's old crew? What kind of upside-down world am I living in? Then, like a bad habit, my thoughts drift back over to Romeo. Why was he called to the principal's office or, rather, his aunt's office?
Why the hell do I care?

I suck in a deep breath and instruct myself to stop thinking about him. But that is easier said than done. Just being in this gym keeps bringing back so many memories of that extremely short time together. We dated a few weeks, and it's probably going to take months to get over him. On the second lap, I cast another look over at the bleachers, and Kwan is still watching me. At least, I think he is.

Beside me, Nicole starts to wheeze.

“Are you all right?”

She pulls in deep gulps of air while she struggles to keep up with me. I slow down to make it a little easier on her. But by the time we get to the fifth lap, she's just tuckered out.

“It's all right. You just need to pace yourself,” I advise her while jogging in place.

Nicole bends over, as if the air is sweeter below her waist. “Go on,” she pants. “I'll catch up.”

“That's all right. I'll wait for you to catch your breath.”

“I said go on,” she snaps.

Surprised, I just blink at her. It's like watching a kitty cat turn into a ferocious lion. “All right. All right.” I toss up my hands. “I don't need a brick building to fall on my head.” By the time I make another lap, I pass Nicole taking her
time walking. Not willing to risk getting my head bitten off a second time, I just breeze right on past her.

Coach Whittaker blasts her whistle again. “MS. DIX, PICK IT UP!”

Nicole ignores her and continues her slow stroll around the court.

Around the tenth lap, more girls join Nicole in getting their walk on. I quickly make my twenty and then rush over to get some water out of the fountain. By the time I make it over to the bleachers there's a crush of girls surrounding Kwan.

“So you're a rapper?” one of the girls asks.

I roll my eyes. Every boy over eight thinks his ass can rap.

“Yeah. I spit a little something.”

Again I roll my eyes, though I'm curious to hear how his husky baritone will sound flowing. It's different—even a little sexy. The other girls ooh and aah and then try to get him to show off his skills. He acts like he isn't going to give them a little taste, but c'mon, that false modesty only works for, like, two seconds.

My ears perk up as I recognize KRS-One lyrics. I'm impressed because it tells me he's more about substance than flash. Then he kicks into something I've never heard before.

Our eyes lock.

My skin starts to tingle. The girls sitting around him follow his line of vision and give me the stank eye. I finally force myself to turn away, but I can still feel his heavy gaze on me.

Nicole finally stumbles her way over to the bleachers next to me. She's panting so hard, I'm wondering if she needs medical attention. “I think I got a cramp,” she complains. “It ain't right for her to have us running around here like this after a lunch period.”

Coach Whittaker blows that loud-ass whistle again, and then she and her assistant, Coach Griffin, start calling out names to divide everyone into teams.

“Good God. Now what?” Nicole whines.

“Maybe we could ask if you can sit this out,” I offer and then want to bite my own tongue out.

Nicole just ignores me altogether. I'm starting to wonder if I did or said something to her at lunch that I don't know about. In the end, she does get out of doing basketball drills, which basically consist of everyone taking turns dribbling around orange cones and then attempting a free throw into the basket. I actually do pretty well. Mainly because
Romeo used the same tactic during our one-on-one private lessons.

There I go thinking about him again.

I breeze through the exercise while Nicole flat out refuses to participate. Still, I make all but one basket. This fact continues to astound the coaches.

“Hey, shorty,” Kwan shouts out to me when the class heads toward the lockers.

I stop and glance back over my shoulder.

“You got mad skills, girl,” he says, walking up to me and kicking up a killer smile. I appreciate the praise, but I'm a little weary of boys right now.

“Thanks,” I say and then start to head back off.

“Whoa. Whoa.” He grasps my wrist. “I'm trying to find out how you learned to play ball like that.”

I shrug. “Around.” What's the point of mentioning Romeo's name?

“Well. I'm impressed,” he says, smiling into my eyes.

What am I supposed to say to that? “All right. Thanks, I guess.”

Just then Romeo jogs back into the gym and catches Kwan and me standing there talking alone. He freezes, and his stare quickly turns into a glare.

I can't help turning back toward Kwan, this time with a syrupy smile. “I'll catch you later.”

Kwan winks. “I'm going to hold you to it.”

I jog off toward the lockers, feeling pretty damn good.

Kierra—Nobody's Fool

Every
idiot knows that it just takes one time to get pregnant. Right?

Nicole's words keep circling around inside my head like a carousel. Given my track record of having bad luck, I shouldn't be surprised that my first, painful, and short-as-hell sexual experience could possibly turn me into Maynard Jackson High's next baby mama.

Deborah.
I close my eyes and groan at the thought of having to tell my older sister, the one who doesn't even want to take care of McKenya and me, that I might be bringing another mouth into her apartment to feed. I might as well start looking for a cemetery plot now. Things at my place are so tense now that I'm afraid the smallest thing will set off an explosion that will land my little sister and me in foster care.

It's no secret in my neck of the woods that my sister is a stripper at the infamous Champagne Room. She works long nights and sleeps all day. For the past three years when I
come home from school, I'm the one who cleans the apartment, cooks dinner and makes sure that McKenya does her homework. Deborah was not too thrilled when I told her I wanted to try out for the freshman cheerleading squad and only agreed to it when I assured her that I would still be able to handle my chores around the house so it didn't infringe on her beauty rest.

Maybe it would all be worth it if McKenya at least cut me some slack. But no. She seems equally determined to make my life more difficult by whining or just being flat out stubborn. It's like she doesn't care or truly believe that Deborah will ever follow through with her weekly, if not daily, threats to abandon us. I, on the other hand, believe Deborah.

After all, she did it once…and for a full week, two years ago. I was twelve and McKenya eight. I kept lying to my baby sister, telling her that Deb was just pulling a double or sleeping—whatever it took not to alarm her that we were on our own. I didn't even tell Anjenai and Tyler. I was too afraid that they would let it slip and it would get around to some do-gooder adult who would call Family and Children's Services.

When Deborah came back, I couldn't tell whether she was relieved or irritated that we were still there. She just went to her room and slept off whatever had her looking like a hot-ass mess. She never said where she was or why she hadn't been home in a week, and I was too terrified to ask. I just went out of my way to make sure that she didn't perceive us as being a burden on her. But that was impossible to do sometimes.

And now this.

Tears swell at the back of my eyes while a cloud of doom hovers above my head. I'm so into my private world that I'm not paying attention to where I'm going until I literally ram into someone standing by my locker. “Oops. Sorry.” I finally look up. “Romeo.”

He spreads on a wide smile and I quickly give him a look that says,
Don't even try it.

“Hey, Kierra. You got a minute?”

“As a matter of fact, I don't.” I give him the cold shoulder and proceed to twirl the combination to my locker.

“Look. I owe you a big apology for what went down that night at Shadiq's party.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm sorry.”

“For which part?”

He blinks like he had expected this bullshit to go down smoothly.

“Yeah. Just what I thought.” I return my attention to my lock.

“For all of it,” he finally says. “I know you won't believe this, but I
really
did—do—care for Anjenai.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“You're right. I was an asshole that night. I messed up. I realize that, but you got to understand that I just had a lot dumped on me at that moment and shit just spiraled out of control before I could wrap my brain around everything that was happening.”

“Uh-huh.” I jerk open my locker and try to hurry and exchange the books I need for my next class.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Ha!” I cut a look at him. “I like your nerve.”

He's quiet for a minute. “You're upset.”

“Gee. You aren't a dumb as you look.” I slam my locker shut.

He meets my hard gaze. “And I got a feeling it's more at Chris than it is at me.”

Just like that, he sweeps the floor from under me. “What did you say?”

Romeo glances around to make sure no one is listening to our conversation before easing closer to me. “I know what happened between you two that night.”

I suck in a startled gasp. “He told you?”

The truth is written all over his face, causing my brain to reel in astonishment and embarrassment. “What? Was he boasting about it or something? Did it give you and your boys a good laugh?”

Scalding hot tears rush down my face.

“No. No, nothing like that. Please, don't cry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“You don't mean to do a lot of things lately, do you?”

Suddenly, he looks like a deer caught in headlights.
Everybody always expects me to just be this bubbly personality all the time. It's about time that some of them realize that I have claws, too,
I think to myself.

“I really understand why you and that asshole are friends now. Birds of a feather flock together.” I start to storm off when he reaches out and grabs me by my arm.

“Whoa. Wait a minute.”

I jerk my arm away. “Don't. Touch. Me.”

A few rubbernecks swivel in our direction.

“What the hell are y'all looking at?” I snap. They turn their heads away while I refocus my attention on Romeo. “You tell that asshole friend of yours that if I hear so much as
one
word from someone else about that night, I will hunt him down and I'll cut off that pencil dick that he's so proud of.” I close the gap between us and stab a finger in the center of his chest. “You got that?”

“Kierra, please, calm down.”

“And as for you. Stay away from Anjenai. You don't deserve her. You're better off with your own kind—snakes.” I finally turn away from him and storm down the hallway with more tears stinging my eyes.

He told them. I can't believe that he told them.

I wipe tears from my eyes, but it doesn't do any good because they're pouring like a waterfall. I make a pit stop in the girls' bathroom, and wouldn't you know it, Bianca and Raven are in there holding court over their usual fan base. I can't believe that I ever thought that they were cool.

I stop dead in my tracks just when their gazes jump up to see who dares to enter their domain. Not wanting to deal with the extra headache, I pivot and storm back out.

“YEAH, YOU BETTER RUN!” Bianca's squeaky, high-pitched voice yells out.

I stop for two seconds and battle my inner Tyler. Finally, I just let the BS roll off my shoulders. The Redbones are definitely not worth my time. I march down to my next class, mopping my face clean the best I can. I have no idea how I forgot that Christopher Hunter was in my next class. He is already seated at his desk and laughing with a bunch
of other knuckleheaded kids. For a fraction of a second, our eyes lock. I throw imaginary daggers straight at his peanut head. In retrospect, that should've been my first clue that he didn't have much to work with downstairs.

The bell rings and I scramble to my seat like everyone else. Anger and hatred continue to roll off me in waves. Honestly, I'm trying to decide whether he's worth catching a case over. “Pssst!”

The teacher stands and starts going over something. Hell, he could be talking in Latin for all I know. I'm too hot to pay him any attention.

“Pssst!”

I glance around.

“Pssst!”

I glance to my left and see Chris trying to catch Fiona's attention so that he can pass her a note. She finally glances back and sees what he's trying to do. I fold my arms and watch this heifer steal another glance at the teacher before swinging her hand back and accepting Chris's folded note.

My jaw is clenched tight while she unfolds the paper and reads. Two seconds later, she is giggling like those hyenas in
The Lion King.
She glances back at Chris and he puckers his lips and tosses a wink at her.

No, this boy ain't doing this shit in front of me.

Fiona grabs her pencil and scribbles something down and then passes it back. I'm sick to my stomach just watching them. By now all I can do is just simmer in my seat. A few minutes later, Mr. Gills is called out of the classroom and
we're left with the instruction to work out the problems written on the board while he's gone. Of course, the minute he leaves the room, most of the kids bounce out of their seats and start cliquing together.

Chris is immediately leaning all over Fiona's desk and running his weak game on her. She just giggles and laughs while her overly glossed lips spread from ear to ear. I try to pull my attention from them, but my gaze keeps boomeranging its way back over to them.

“Nah. Nah. I ain't got a girlfriend,” I hear him say.

Before I know it, I'm jumping up out of my seat, snatching my gear and running up out of there before my eyes spring another leak and I embarrass myself. I refuse to give him that satisfaction.