Teenie (8 page)

“Which Greg?”

“The one on the basketball team?”

The first question was from Tamara and the second was from Malika. Cherise takes center stage like she’s the one who kissed him.

“Yup. He tongued her down in the hallway during gym class.”

“No he did not!” I say, trying my best not to giggle.

“Yeah, okay.” Cherise is laying it on thick. I start laughing
when she says, “Y’all should have seen her face when she came back in, smiling like she hit the lotto.”

“It was nothing big really.” Even Sabrina is happy for me, smiling and laughing while she rubs cocoa butter on the back of her feet.

“Greg Millons?” Crystal asks for clarification.

I nod my head and take questions from the peanut gallery. They want a full, step-by-step account of the day’s event.

“Well, can he kiss?”

“Yes.”

“Did he try anything else?”

“No, he was a gentleman.” I probably wouldn’t have minded if he wasn’t.

“What if he has a girlfriend?”

That’s Crystal again. She must have been gulping the Haterade today, because she’s the only one not smiling.

“So what?” Cherise jumps in. “If he does, she need to watch her man.”

The other girls laugh and then start asking a bunch more questions. Some of the questions are X-rated and I find myself blushing and laughing and saying, “No I did not!” This is two days in a row I’ve been the center of attention. I could get used to this.

“Where’s the fire?” Tamara asks as we see a bunch of students, mostly girls, running toward the center section of the lunchroom.

Cherise grabs my arm and yanks me up from the table. “They’re putting up the results of the cheerleading tryouts.”

“Why are we looking if you know you already made the first cut?”

She shushes me. “The head girl winked at me, dummy. It’s not official yet. Besides”—she leans in closer—“I want to see who the competition is.”

There’s a big crowd forming near the wall as a whole bunch of girls fight to get closer to the list. I notice a woman posting something on the other side of the lunchroom. I don’t even have a chance to think about checking to see what she’s doing. Cherise yanks my arm so hard toward the cheerleader list that I almost catch whiplash.

Cherise forces her way in front of the list and starts looking for her name.

“What the hell? How are you supposed to read this?” She’s annoyed because they have the results listed only showing the last five digits of everyone’s Social Security number. “How the hell am I supposed to find myself here? I don’t know my Social—”

“There you are.” Only God knows why I know her SS number.

“Oh.” She smiles for a split second, then frowns. “Well, how come my name’s not on top?”

“They probably have it ordered alphabetically but only show your SS number so—”

Before I can finish speaking, Sohmi and Sabrina let out ear-piercing shrieks. I guess that means they made round two. Cherise goes over and gives them high fives.

“I don’t get it.”

“Me either.”

Malika and Tamara are shaking their heads and talking about Cherise, Sabrina, and Sohmi.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is. It’s not even like they’re real athletes.”

“I know, right? What do you think, Teenie?”

“Uh-huh.” I hardly hear a word of what they’re saying because my attention is focused on the other side of the room. I think I heard Tamara say she wanted to join the football team. She has got to be crazy.

I wasn’t sure before but now I know that’s the list I’ve been waiting for for three months. I recognize two girls who were sitting near me during a YSSAP info session. One of them is trying to contain her own happiness while she does her best to keep her friend from crying.

“Do you know those girls?”

I didn’t realize Cherise was standing next to me. I shake my head at her question and say, “No, I don’t know them.” Sabrina and the rest of the crew start walking back to the table.

“Okay. So … why’re you staring over there so hard?”

“I think that’s the list for that program.”

“Oh! The one to Spain?”

“Yup.” Wow, she actually remembered.

“Mmm. Girl, you’re so lucky to be going. There are going to be a ton of cute Spanish boys, and you know how I love me some Spanish boys.”

“Not that kind of Spanish, Cherise.” I won’t even lie. When I was younger, I thought everyone that spoke Spanish was caramel-colored and from Puerto Rico. They all just got
lumped together as Spanish people. “And I don’t even know if I got in yet.”

“So why are we standing over here?”

My fingers have been crossed so hard that the tips are starting to turn purple. Cherise nudges me a little, encouraging me to go look at the list. I’ve waited a long time for this moment and now that it’s here, I’m not so sure I want to know the results.

“Come on, Teenie. Hurry up. I gotta pee.”

Cherise always comes up with the most eloquent ways to motivate me. With that, we finally walk over to the list.

Cherise asks, “Do you see your name—I mean—number?”

I’ve scanned the list four or five times. It’s not there. I can’t believe it. “No.” I worked so hard and I didn’t get it.

“Youuuuu didn’t make it?”

I shake my head. What did I do wrong? My grades were good enough. I’ve never worked so hard in my life.

“We’re going to that office, because that has to be some kind of mistake.”

“No, Cherise, it’s okay. My name is not there. I didn’t make it.”

“No, it’s
not
okay, Teenie. We’ve been looking forward to this for months.” We? All this time I thought she didn’t want me to go. “There’s no way you’re not going.”

“But what else can I do? I didn’t get it.” My eyes are starting to tear up.

“Well, first thing you’re gonna do is stop that damn crying. We need to go talk to somebody about it.”

“How’re we going to do that?” I wipe my face. “We can’t just walk out of the lunchroom.”

“Leave that to me. Let’s go get our bags.”

We grab our bags and walk to one of the exits. There are two attendants guarding the door. “Cherise, let’s just forget it. We can go later.”

“Later when? The basketball game is today.”

“But how are we going to get out?” I’ve just watched the door monitors turn back like four students as Cherise and I get closer to the door.

“I
said
leave that to me.”

By the time we reach the exit, Cherise is hunched over and leaning on me for support. She lifts her head to the door monitor and in her most desperate voice forces out the word “cramps.”

The door monitor’s reaction is immediate. He jumps up from his chair and runs over to the elevator to push the button. I thank him as the elevator closes and Cherise stands up and looks at me, saying, “I’m the best.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Can I help you?”

We’re in the study abroad office and I go to open my mouth but Cherise takes charge. “Yes. I want someone to tell me why my friend didn’t get the foreign exchange program.”

“Do you mean the study abroad program?”

“Same thing.”

The girl does not look amused by Cherise’s tone and
aggressiveness. “Well, actually, they’re different, and for your information, anyone can participate in the program as long as they pay the cost. Are you talking about the scholarship?”

“Yes. That’s what I meant.”

“Well, YSSAP has very strict criteria for who gets scholarships. It sounds like your friend didn’t make the cut.” The girl has a smug grin on her face while she looks me over.

“Okay, Ms.”—Cherise pauses to read her nameplate—“Azalia Quinones. Are you the person who makes the decisions as to who gets the scholarships?”

“No. But I—”

“Didn’t think so. Can I speak to someone who knows what they’re talking about, please?”

Azalia’s mouth drops the same as mine. Before she has a chance to give Cherise a piece of her mind, Greg walks in from next door and puts his hand on her shoulder. She melts, much like Cherise and I do when we see him. He smiles and says, “These two in here giving you trouble, Azalia?” He pronounces her name the Spanish way, not “Azayleah” like Cherise and I thought it was.

She’s grinning from ear to ear and says, “Nothing I can’t handle,” then turns to Cherise and gives her a stink look, adding, “But this one here has a smart mouth.”

I can see Cherise’s blood boiling, but surprisingly, she bites her tongue. Maybe for once she realizes that it’s not about her. Cherise is keeping quiet but she is locked in a staring match with Azalia, and I’m not so sure she’ll win this one. Greg picks up on it and tries to keep things from escalating.

“Why don’t you let me take care of this? Matter of fact, can you do me a favor? Can you get me a Red Bull from the bodega? I want a little boost for the game later.” He pulls a twenty from his money clip and says, “Get something for yourself too.”

Azalia giggles and says, “Thank you,” falling all over herself, trying to look cute.

Okay, girl, take it easy and stop trying so hard. Can’t she see that Greg’s not even paying attention to her? She gives Cherise one last dirty look and walks out of the office.

“What’s up, Teenie? How you doing, Cherise?”

“Hi, Greg,” we both say at the same time.

“You work here too?” I ask.

“I work everywhere. I run this school, Shorty,” he says, smiling and winking.

Cherise and I both laugh.

“So what can I help you ladies with?”

Cherise pinches the hell out of my back to get me to keep talking. “Oww … I applied for the YSSAP scholarship but I didn’t get it. We came down here to see if there was anything I could do or if they made a mistake or something.”

“Yo, I don’t blame you for going after that scholarship. That program costs like twelve grand or something.”

Cherise’s eyes open wide when she hears the amount. Besides the momentary lapse, she does a good job of hiding her surprise.

“Hmm.” Greg pushes back in his chair to check if anyone is watching him before leaning forward and saying, “You
know, I’m not supposed to be doing this, but let’s see what the deal is.” He’s pitter-pattering away on the keyboard, but his hand placement is way off. No wonder he was so slow typing yesterday. “Wow. Your grades are pretty good.”

“Thanks.” Since his eyes are going from the keyboard to the computer screen, I take the opportunity to examine every inch of his face. I don’t see one pimple anywhere, and the line of his haircut looks like it was done with a ruler and razor blade. Cherise elbows me and gives me a funny face, telling me to stop staring.

After a little more typing, he says, “Oh, okay. I see what the problem is. It says here that you fell a little short on your community service requirement.”

I look at Cherise. She shrugs her shoulders because she knows what I’m thinking, that I would’ve been a shoe-in if she didn’t talk me out of volunteering at the hospital last semester. I can still hear her saying,
No one pays attention to that stuff
.

“I can’t add you directly to the program itself, but I can put you on sort of a waiting list. You’d have to get your average up one point to qualify. You think you could do that?”

“I can try.”

“Yes. She can do it.” Cherise looks at me, more than a little annoyed.

“Okay. I’ve done all I can. It’s up to you now.” He’s smiling.

“Thank you.”

“Y’all coming to the game, right?”

I smile while Cherise responds, “For sure. We’ll be there.”

“Alright. Excuse me. I gotta get outta here.” He looks at
the clock and says, “Where is this girl with my Red Bull?” as he walks out of the office.

Cherise takes her hand and starts fanning both of us. “That boy is hot!”

My feet don’t touch the ground for the rest of the school day. I feel like I’m floating.
The
hottest boy in the entire school kissed me
and
did me a huge favor and put qualifying for that scholarship back in my hands. I always imagined what my first real kiss would feel like. My dreams were nowhere close to the real thing.

“Teenie, don’t you hear me calling you?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you please pass me the forceps?”

“The what?”

Garth points to them, and I pass them over. We’re supposed to be dissecting a male bullfrog in bio lab, but I haven’t really been much help. He’s going for extra credit, trying to remove the pituitary gland. I am still thinking about Greg, replaying that beautiful scene again and again in my head. Damn, that boy is fine.

“Can you hand me the scalpel?” I hand it to him. “The scalpel, please.”

“I gave it to y—Oh, sorry.” I had passed him a pencil. I take it back and hand him the scalpel. He looks at me funny and shakes his head before getting back to his incision.

I have got to be the luckiest girl in the world. Normally, the only time good-looking guys talk to me is to get Cherise’s number or my English homework. But now things are different.
The best-looking boy in the entire school is after me. Who knows where this could lead. I might be getting a little ahead of myself, but Martine Millons definitely has a nice ring to it.

“Teenie.”

“Yes, Garth?” Why does he keep bothering me today?

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re leaning on the desk and there’s formaldehyde all over it.”

I jump back and glance down at my jacket. My sleeve is dripping with frog juice.

“I suggest you put some baking soda on that. Formaldehyde does not agree with that sort of fabric.”

It takes me almost fifteen minutes to scrub the formalde-funk out of my jacket. By the time I get back from the bathroom, Garth has finished the dissection and cleaned up what was left of the specimen. He even took the time to pack up my book bag.

“I got the pituitary out. It wasn’t the cleanest cut.”

“Oh, come on, Garth. I’m sure it was fine.”

The bell rings, and we walk out into the hallway with the rest of the class.

“I saw the YSSAP list up.…”

“I didn’t make it.” Garth’s shoulders sag before I get a chance to say, “I got put on a waiting list. I have to raise my average a point to qualify. I hope I can do it.”