Sellout (7 page)

I was embarrassed for trying to hide Tilly’s bracelet. I had hoped Shaunda hadn’t even noticed. I followed her out of the
room and joined the other girls. They were all dressed and ready to play.

“Ladies, let’s get going.”

A black woman with more rolls than the Pillsbury Doughboy blew into a whistle and waved everyone over. She wore her hair in small dark curls, fresh from a roller set, without combing them through. The curls were lined like pastries in a store window display.

I stood next to Shaunda and waited for the lady with the whistle to give us more instructions.

“That’s Anne West, but we call her Coach,” Shaunda whispered to me while we waited. “She’s all about good nutrition and healthy living. Ironic, huh?”

Coach West barely looked like she could climb a flight of stairs let alone practice sports. She reached into a cart of volleyballs and began handing balls out to the girls.

“Find a partner, ladies, and let’s start passing around,” she called. She took a deep breath and blew into her whistle hard like she was stopping an NBA game for a foul shot. After, she looked a little winded.

“Oh, and just a heads-up, she’s whistle happy,” Shaunda said, catching a ball from the coach. “You’ll probably have a headache before you leave. Last month, she even wore the whistle during our Ping-Pong games.”

“Hey, Coach, we have a new girl,” Shaunda called to her. “This is NaTasha.”

I waved and Coach came bustling over. She shook my hand vigorously and called an unhappy looking Quiana to join us. Quiana glared at me but didn’t speak.

“Quiana, this is NaTasha, can you pair up and show her some of the techniques we’ve learned?” If only Coach knew our history, she would have asked anyone else in this room to help me out.

Quiana smirked in my direction, probably enjoying seeing me look like a charity case.

“I can’t, Coach,” she answered after looking me up and down. “Monique just asked me for help with her serve and you know I’m the best server you got. I’m sure they play some mean volleyball out in the suburbs anyway.”

Well, I wasn’t the strongest girl around, but I sure wasn’t the weakling Quiana saw. I took the ball Coach West held out. Quiana smiled and walked back over to Monique. Those two would have a good laugh at my expense, I was sure of it.

“It’s okay, I don’t need her help,” I said.

“Coach, my partner isn’t here today. I can hit around with NaTasha,” Shaunda said, coming to my rescue once again. “I think she knows how to play already anyway.”

“Thanks,” I mouthed to Shaunda, who set the ball in my direction. I returned it with ease and we quickly found a rhythm. The number of balls flying past my head was dizzying. Between the whirl of the balls and the sea of faces, the gym looked like a big bag of trail mix. So many shades of brown and orange it made me a little light-headed.

For a leisure activity, Coach seemed pretty serious about technique and the rules of the game. She weaved slowly between the flying balls, giving pointers and demonstrating the right way to hit.

I interlocked my fingers and stretched out my arms to wait for a pass from my partner. We hit back and forth for a few minutes before either one of us said a word. I listened intently to the sound of the balls slamming onto the court; the boom sounded almost like a horrible thunderstorm was brewing.

Shaunda was focused, apparently in some personal contest to see how many passes we could complete in under a minute. Sweat started beading up on my face and it already dripped from hers. I suddenly wondered about this overachieving, helpful girl who I was partnered with.

“So, thanks for helping me earlier,” I shouted. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t seem like you need to be here.”

“Thanks, I guess, but when I first got here, I was really messed up,” she told me, releasing a small breath in between each word. “I’m out of here next week, but it took a lot of work to get to this point. You actually remind me of myself when I first arrived.”

My blood rushed and I could feel my heartbeat speed up a little.

“What do you mean?” I asked her, more offended than I probably should have been. We kept the ball moving while we talked. I was glad for the distraction. Had we been in a quiet group session, I might have broken down and started crying. I hit the ball too hard by accident and it soared over Shaunda’s head. I wiped my forehead and knelt down to catch my breath while she ran to retrieve the ball where it had landed, close to Quiana and Monique.

I heard a few giggles and looked to see if Quiana was doing the butt again. But she just looked at me disapprovingly. I was getting tired of that look.

“I used to hate everything about myself,” Shaunda said when she returned. She hit the ball and we found a slow and steady rhythm again. I watched her graceful body movements and her strong, confident strokes and wondered how this beautiful girl could hate anything about herself. “I didn’t look into mirrors for years. I was scared of what stared back at me. And I didn’t like what I saw.”

Shaunda wasn’t in my group this morning. And I sure didn’t tell her my secret. I glanced over at Quiana. She
did
have a big mouth. Maybe she had spread the word already. Or maybe Quiana and Shaunda were playing some trick on me. The girls were probably trying to find out as much as they could to laugh about me later. Or, set me up in another trap. What if I had said too much already?

It was strange and terrifying to hear my own thoughts about myself coming from Shaunda. But there was also something comforting about listening to her story, even if she was setting me up.

“I used to wear long-sleeved shirts and pants because I messed up my skin so bad,” she said. “I would take baths in bleach, thinking it would change what I looked like. One day my mother caught me and took me to see a counselor about it. Being here helped, too. I could share my story with other girls who really understood me.”

I hadn’t noticed that I had stopped the ball and was standing with it underneath my arm.

“But weren’t you scared to let anyone know what you were feeling?” I asked. As soon as I asked, I looked around to make sure no one was listening in on our conversation.

“Of course I was scared,” she said. “Bleaching your skin isn’t something you go around broadcasting, but holding on to my secret and trying to deal with my issues all alone was so painful and exhausting, it was nice to finally let people help me.”

I thought about my group this morning. Susan and Rochelle had shared without reservation or concern that anyone would make fun of them. And no one did. Not even Quiana.

“You get to a point where what others think of you doesn’t matter as much,” she said, holding her hands out for the ball. “It’s just easier to let it go.”

A few of the girls started clapping and screaming on the other side of the court. Shaunda and I both turned to see what was going on. Monique had spiked the ball perfectly and was getting praise from the other girls and even from Coach.

“Hey, you still worried about what Quiana said to you?” Shaunda asked, while the other girls celebrated.

“A little,” I told her. “She really hates me.”

“Really, don’t worry about it,” she said, “she’ll get to know you and everything will be fine. People are always scared and intimidated of what they don’t understand.”

I nodded to her and we started passing the ball again. After a few minutes, Coach West waddled over to us and blew her whistle. All the girls in the room looked over in our direction.

I felt my cheeks burning and my head started to throb a little, like I was pulling into the final stretch of a marathon on a hot summer day, when all eyes were waiting for me to hit the finish line. Coach West clapped and put her hands out, waiting for me to toss the ball her way.

I scanned all the eyes and wanted to cry. I wanted to finish first but I didn’t want anyone to hold it against me. I didn’t have to make friends, but I didn’t want the girls to hate me, either. I found Quiana standing in the middle of the group, smirking. She didn’t yell anything or make jokes; she just waited patiently for me to make a wrong move, trip, or lose my footing or something.

“NaTasha, let’s go,” Coach West said and clapped again loudly, rattling my thoughts. I threw the ball quickly and almost nailed her in the stomach.

“I want these two to demonstrate for you,” Coach told the others, recovering from the catch. “Some of you aren’t getting it. The key to winning matches is great form. You could learn something from these two.”

Shaunda smiled proudly. I tried to think of a way to get out of this display. “Coach, maybe Quiana and Monique can show you…anyway, I’m not very good.”

“NaTasha, I saw what you two did, and I asked you two to show me, so let’s go,” she answered a little impatiently, tossing the ball to Shaunda.

I shrugged in Quiana’s direction to show her I’d tried. She put a finger in her mouth like she was gagging herself.

Shaunda rotated her shoulders back a few times and stretched her neck muscles, like she was preparing for a real
match. She tossed the ball my way and we found a rhythm. I missed two sets from her, but the coach seemed happy.

“Do you see how NaTasha’s arms are straight all the way through?” Coach yelled. “That’s exactly what I want, girls.”

I wanted to stop and dig a hole right in my spot on the court. I knew this praise from Coach couldn’t be good. Everyone went back to passing around, with Coach going from group to group giving improvement suggestions. At the end of practice, Coach blew her whistle.

“Okay, ladies, divide yourselves, please, into two groups,” she said.

The girls parted like the Red Sea. I didn’t know which side to stand on. Even Shaunda had disappeared from my sight, so I was on my own.

Quiana passed by me on her way to the opposite side of the net and rolled her eyes. I wiped my sweaty forehead and tried to tuck my hair behind my ears. I looked around at the girls on both sides of the net. On my left side, the girls had light skin and long, flowing hair. I thought about Heather and Stephanie back home. Across the net on my right side, the girls had dark skin, and cornrows like Tilly’s in their hair. Everyone in the gym looked at me.

“NaTasha, choose a side please,” the coach said.

I looked at both groups, found Quiana on one team, and so chose the other.

“Take a good look, ladies,” Coach West started. “Those standing on your side of the gym will be your team the next time we play. Now look at the ladies across the court. These are the young women you will be competing against.”

The girls had divided themselves by race. If I had been given time to think about it, maybe I would have chosen differently. Maybe not, but either way, I was on the wrong side.

I felt sick. The eggs I ate with Tilly were swirling around in my stomach. Coach dismissed us and I left to find my clothes. The other girls moved just as quickly as I did, almost like they were trying to catch up. Quiana and Monique ran by first and brushed my right shoulder. I looked over and attempted a smile.

“Sellout.” Quiana spat it at me like the word was dirt in her mouth.

I looked to Shaunda for help, but she turned her back and walked quickly toward the locker room. I held in my tears and got dressed more quickly than I ever had in my life.

Tilly was talking to Red when I made it to Red’s office.

“We’re almost done here, NaTasha,” Red said. “I’m glad you came in when you did because you actually may be a big help to us next week. How would you like to help us plan our recognition ceremony?”

Apparently, these girls got certificates of achievement for surviving this program without killing one another. One girl would be chosen to give a speech of encouragement in front of parents and friends. After toasting with punch and cookies, everyone went home. Piece of cake.

What I really wanted instead of this prison sentence was to go back to Tilly’s place and relax and never come back here again. That was it—no sharing, no planning, and no toasting.
For the next few days I could curl up with a good book until Tilly returned home. When I felt lonely I could sit on the stoop with Khalik and play cards or go order more food from Amir. He could give me long tours around the neighborhood during his lunch breaks.

Tilly and Red waited quietly for me to answer.

“Sure, why not,” I said.

Not like I really had a choice anyway. Tilly would find some way to convince me, and if I sat around Tilly’s place, I’d end up looking like the pampered brat everyone at Amber’s Place thought I was.

“Excellent,” Red responded quickly, clapping her hands together. “I’m so happy.”

“Wait, what will I actually be doing?” I asked, like it really mattered. “Am I planning the whole thing on my own? Is someone going to help me?”

“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow,” Red said, “and maybe I’ll assign a few girls to work with you.”

And maybe it would be safer if
I
suggested someone to help me instead.

Tilly and I got on a downtown-bound train. I pushed my way through the crowd to find Tilly a seat and I stood above her.

“How was volleyball?” she asked.

“It was interesting, Tilly,” I told her.

“Anything exciting?” she asked. “Did Shaunda take care of you?”

“We don’t really play a real match until later this week, but Shaunda passed around with me a bit,” I said.

I skipped the part about Shaunda being in cahoots with Quiana to ruin me. I skipped the part about my secret, too. Not a good idea in public where Tilly wouldn’t think twice about embarrassing me.

When we walked up to Tilly’s apartment building, Khalik and Rex were playing cards out on the stoop.

“Hey, Ms. Tilly, what’s the word?” Rex asked.

“Just another day, Rex. How about you?”

“You know me, I’m making it,” he said.

“Good, you take care now,” Tilly told him. “Hey, Khalik, how’s your mother?”

“She’s good, Ms. Tilly,” Khalik answered.

“Good, well you tell her I said hello and make sure you come up for pie sometime.”

“Yes, Ms. Tilly.”

Tilly headed up to start dinner.

“Tash, you want to play?” Khalik had turned all the way around in the wooden fold-up chair to face me. Rex stole a peek at his cards and I laughed.