No Mercy (13 page)

             
“What’s wrong, Laura? Didn’t have your morning ration of bitches brew?” I say, causing a few reluctant bystanders to snicker.

             
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. But that still doesn’t excuse the fact that this girl, if you can call her that, didn’t even try to get dressed this morning. Do you know how lucky you are to be at South Bay High? They probably didn’t even have text books at your last school, did they Lassie?”

             
Nellie laughs and I can’t take it anymore. Who the hell does she think she is?

             
Marcia looks shocked at Laura’s bitter rant and that’s not even as nasty as the girl can get. Marcia’s going to have a hard time if she thinks this is a passing occurrence. Much like the young dude who just lost the fight, Marcia’s time at Drama High could be determined by how she handles herself in this very moment. So far it’s not looking so good and I can’t stand by and watch her go down without a fight. She doesn’t seem like the type of girl who sticks up for herself and that’s unfortunate because she’ll have to do that on the regular if she plans on surviving around here.

“Laura, go suck on an Ex-lax and sit down somewhere
,” I say, standing next to Marcia. “And Nellie, just a couple of years ago you were the new girl being bullied by the mean chicks and now you’re one of them. If it weren’t for Mickey you’d have a completely different story to tell about your first year at South Bay High.”

“That’s your problem, Jayd. You’re always sticking up for the strays. Who do you thi
nk you are: Captain Save-a-Rat?”

If I could I’d slap Nellie clear across the face for saying some stupid shit like that to me. I have my eyes on the prize of graduating from this tired-ass school in eight months and nothing’
s going to stop me, but I’ve always hated bullies and can’t tolerate anyone getting bullied in my presence.

“Nellie, sit down with all that stupidity,” I say, putting my five fingers up indicating
that I’ve had enough of her and her sometimey crew. If she wants to pledge allegiance to the mean girls again that’s her badd. “The only bitches I see are the ones standing like they’re permanently constipated.”

The crowd
now gathered around us snickers as I walk away taking Marcia with me. Poor girl. All she wanted to do was eat her lunch in peace and these heffas had to go and mess up her day.

“Thank you for getting your friends off my back,” Marcia says, following me toward the quad in front of the Media Center. This is one of my favorite quiet spots to hang when I can.
I should’ve left campus for lunch, but with gas prices as high as they are there’s nowhere I want to go that badly.

“No worries, and they’re not my friends,” I say, shaking my head at Nellie’s behavior. “Well, one of them is, or was but she hasn’t been herself lately.” I feel bad for my girl. She’s acting like a jerk and has no one to blame but herself for the wrath of Jayd when it rains upon her ass.

              “This school’s so different from my old high school,” Marcia says, combing her fingers through her bushy, free-flowing locks. “Everyone was laid back in SD.”

             
“SD?” I ask, unfamiliar with the term.

             
“Yeah. San Diego. I just moved in with my dad for the first time,” she says as the bell rings. Luckily I have Mr. Adewale next period and he’ll excuse my tardiness once I explain the situation. “He’s not really into clothes and stuff so I take what I can get, you know?”

             
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” I give Marcia a good once over and see the neglect Laura exploited. Mama always says you can spot a motherless child a mile away and she’s right: Marcia definitely needs a mother’s love. “Here’s my number,” I say, scribbling down my cell digits on a piece of notebook paper. “Call me if you need anything.”

             
“Thanks, but I’m not a charity case. I’m just doing my time until I can go back home.”

             
If I were her friend I’d dig a little dipper, but I don’t want to give Esmeralda any more ammunition to use against me.

             
“Okay, but just in case,” I say, insisting that she take my number.

             
“Thanks again, Jayd.”

             
“Don’t mention it.”

There was this beast of a chick named Akeelah who picked on me in elementar
y school along with my on again/off again friend from around the way, Angela. She was my first frenemy. The first couple of years I took it. Then something happened to me in the fifth grade; something awoke inside of me that changed the game forever. I was no longer afraid of them. There was so much going on with my uncle Donnie’s death and other shit that at home that Akeelah no longer incited fear in me. She and Angela used to follow me to the restroom and kick the door open while I was squatting over the toilet—I still have bladder issues due to those incidents.

The last time they bullied me I stood up to Akeelah once and for all. She and Angela cornered me on the playground one afternoon, right between the chain link fence that
separated the school from the adjacent graveyard.  One minute me and about ten other girls are taking turns double-dutching and watching the very competitive kickball game across the yard from us. The next I’m pinned up against the fence being bullied out of my turn. Akeelah was too tall for any of us to actually get the rope over her head but she’d make us play with her anyway. But that day, in my pleated khaki skirt my father’s mother made for me, I kicked her hard in the shin. Once our fellow jump ropers realized that Akeelah was actually crying I maneuvered my way through a whole in the fence just big enough for most of us to get through and ran to the other side of the cemetery convinced Akeelah’s sidekick, Angela was going to come after me. There was no way Akeelah would make it through the hole without embarrassing herself.

What I never understood is why Angela hung out with Akeelah. It never occurred to me until a couple of years later that maybe A
ngela was afraid of Akeelah. Akeelah basically forced Angela to be her friend and I guess Angela figured it was better to be Akeelah’s friend than to get her ass beat. Smart girl. But I never had that choice. Akeelah hated me from day one even though initially Angela tried to get her to be my friend. I felt sympathy for Angela because I’d known her since kindergarten and considered her to be my best friend at the time. I didn’t really blame her for protecting herself but it did hurt that she didn’t choose to ride with me.

If I can help it, Marcia won’t be left to the wolves of South Bay High. Besides, after all is said and done I may need to form a new crew to hang with.

“The unconscious speaks volumes about what it is that you really want, and who.”

-Jeremy

Drama High, volume 12: Pushin’

~10~

SWEPT UP

Compared to the lunchtime sideshow, the rest of my Monday was pretty uneventful. Netta’s sisters are holding down the shop so that she can tend to Mama’s daily needs. I’m just glad she’s awake. I miss her being just a phone call or a thought away.

“Mama, what really happened between you and Mrs. Esop?” I ask, passing her the thick manila envelope Nigel gave me during fifth period. She needs to take a look at the legal documents before I deliver them to Mrs. Carmichael for the final seal of approval. Even on Mama’s worst day she can outwit Mrs. Esop’s vindictive antics.

The last time I saw Nigel’s mom she was in pretty bad shape. Her daughter, Natasia is getting married to her girlfriend this spring and Mrs. Esop’s not happy about it to say the least. I hope his mom’s feeling better now that Nigel’s back home. Even if I feel for Mrs. Esop in a small way, all of the drama that she’s experiencing she brought on herself. She should’ve known better than to come after me for not finishing the damned debutante ball, and through Mama nonetheless.

              “Teresa and I were good friends at one time,” Mama says, placing the envelope on Dr. Whitmore’s desk. She’s made herself right at home in the quaint space. “We met at Xavier our freshman year in college. She was very driven and wanted so badly to marry an athlete, which is exactly what she ended up doing.”

“You have to admire her tenacity,” I say, taking a seat on the futon. The look Mama shoots me immediately shuts me up. After all, this is her story and giving props to the antagonist isn’t wise.

“Teresa pledged Alpha Gamma Rho our freshman year and I pledged sophomore year. Because we were already friends I thought it would be natural for us to become sorors—or sisters—in the sorority. After all, I am my mother’s only child and liked the idea of being in an organization that endorsed sisterhood amongst black women. But I had no idea that I would have to sell my soul to do it.”

             
“Mmmhmmm,” Netta says, sweeping the floor. “And she almost lost her best friend and soul sister in the process.”

             
“Oh Netta, are you ever going to let me live that down?” Mama says, smiling at her friend.

             
“Hell no, Lynn Mae. Never, not ever!” Netta can be so silly sometimes.

             
Mama cuts her eyes at Netta, and Netta returns the favor.

“As time passed I forgot about that experience as best I could
,” Mama continues. “I left college without graduating, got married, moved to Compton with your grandfather and started our family. It wasn’t until I ran into Teresa at the Lakewood Mall that I knew she was living here, too. Her husband’s family lived in Compton until The Clippers drafted him first, then The Lakers years later, which is when they moved to Lafayette Square.” Mama reclaims the envelope and removes its contents. “What Teresa won’t tell anyone is that she couldn’t initially conceive a child, and that’s when she came to me. I helped her with both of her pregnancies.”

“What?” I say, surprised by Mama’s truth telling. “No wonder she’s overly invested in Nigel and Natasia’s lives.” I seriously doubt that her children know of my grandmother’s history with their mother.

“Precisely, Jayd. That woman is a mother hen times ten. I don’t blame her for being involved in her children’s lives but she’s involved to the point of controlling and that means that eventually they’ll resent her very presence.”

“They already do,” I say, again recalling my last visit to the Esop compound. “Natasia and her fiancé announced their engagement to Mrs. Esop who refuses to accept the fact that her daughter’s a proud lesbian in love.”

“The emotion of love is the only constant in a world full of change, and we all better get it whenever and wherever we can, damn what others may think,” Netta says, breaking it down. “Love is active; love is a constant test in devotion, your pain threshold, and perseverance. You can love a person, a calling, a talent, a pet. As long as you love truly you’ll receive love in return.”

Netta always gives me food for thought. I feel like I love hard but rarely receive the same love in return.

“Teresa’s never liked anything too different,” Mama says, tossing the papers back down on the desk. “She never accepted that we each represent different paths of the Creator, and so do her children. Some people call them attributes, saints, or Orishas as we do, and they all have life to give. But we can become distracted, be lead astray from our divine paths, and that’s where the drama begins.”

“I hear that,” I chime in.

Netta and Mama both laugh at my testimony. They of all people know how much drama I have in my life at any given time.

“
Before you know it, little Jayd, one side of Legba takes over and all hell breaks loose. It can happen time and time again until you learn your lesson,” Netta says.

Mama nods in affirmation. “
The power is in the choices you make and when you make them. For example, it was all right for me to have more than one boyfriend in college—that was part of my Oshune path. Erzulie Freda is her more playful side, but that side of our mother doesn’t bode well for a married woman. But unlike Teresa, I don’t believe in giving up all life’s joy once we take on adulthood rites.”

“That Teresa’s always been a piece of work,” Netta says, tying a red band around the wooden and straw broom she just constructed. “I still don’t see how you were ever friends with her.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now,” Mama says, sprinkling water on the floor where Netta’s sweeping. “I feel sorry for her. Teresa’s a proud woman and that pride is what keeps her from enjoying the fullness of life, I don’t care how much money she has.”

Uh oh, I feel a spirit lesson coming on.

“Alafia, ladies,” Mr. Adewale says, entering the office. “The doctor’s out back working and says he’ll be inside with your dinner soon, Iyalosha.”

Damn, Mama’s got it made in the shade staying here. She might as well be on vacation. I’ve taken on her clients at home, the boys and Daddy are on their own when it comes to housework, and Netta’s sisters are holding down the shop, leaving Mama to basically chill until this madness with Esmeralda passes.