The Meltdown (20 page)

Before heading to cheer practice, I rewrapped my injured toe in the girls’ bathroom just to make sure it was okay. With all the new crazy stunts we’ve been doing lately, I need all the protection I can get.

“Jayd, get in the lineup,” Ms. Carter says, snapping me out of my thoughts and back to the dangerous reality ahead. How the hell am I supposed to step on top of another girl’s thighs to reach the second tier of the human pyramid when I can barely walk straight because of my injury? And an even better question is why the hell are we doing this shit? Since when do all of the cheerleaders have to participate in this physical abomination? Do I look like Dominique Dawes to these broads?

“But, Ms. Carter, Jayd’s legs are too fat to hold me up properly,” Ellen says. “No offense, but muscle’s more supportive than jiggle.”

If I weren’t afraid for my life right now, I’d check this skinny bitch. But I have to agree with Ellen. Her ninety-pound frame is no match for my natural thickness. I may not be the biggest girl on the block, but I’m short and packing what I’ve got.

“I see what you’re saying, but Jayd’s got good upper-body strength. She can hold herself up with the bottom half,” Ms. Carter says, pointing to my behind.

Why do I feel like a slave on the auction block? They’re talking about my body as if I’m not here, and that’s pissing me off. I’m too tired for this crap. “Don’t I get a say in what I can and can’t do?” I ask. Both of them look at me like I’m completely out of order. The rest of the squad is busy prep-ping, oblivious to the debate.

“This is serious business, Jayd,” Ellen says, flipping her blond ponytail over her left shoulder. Someone should really tell her about her scrunchy fetish before she gets clowned. “This is your first year as a cheerleader, and you have to learn the game.”

“The game?” I ask, feeling as insulted as I did a moment ago when she sized up my body. I didn’t sign up for this.

“Yes. And there are rules to every game,” Ms. Carter says
like she’s giving me a private tutorial. “Rule number one: no talking while the captain is speaking with the coach.”

Is this chick serious? I’ll be damned if I follow any more rules. I already had to run a mile—sore toe and all—for being five minutes late. Now I can’t even speak unless spoken to. And with the other two black varsity cheerleaders, Shauna and Alicia, officially graduated, the thrill is gone. Some summer this is turning out to be. With the writing workshop in the mornings and this shit right after, I feel like I’m back in school part-time with full-time heffas.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but even mere cheer novices have rights, and I’m telling you both right now that I don’t feel well enough to climb anybody today. I cut my foot this morning on a piece of glass; that’s why I was late, if you’d listen,” I say, officially pissing the little white girl off.

“You know what my daddy says about excuses?” Ellen asks, sounding like the authentic Southern girl she is. “They’re like buttholes. Everyone’s got one and they all stink.”

Well I guess she put me in my place, or so she thinks.

“I’ve got one you can kiss,” I say, not letting her get away with slamming me like that—damn the cheer hierarchy.

“You can’t speak to me like that,” Ellen says, now completely enraged.

I guess she’s used to people bowing at her nimble, blond feet, but I couldn’t give a damn about this fake-ass world.

“Why not? You’re barely my equal, and I couldn’t care less about who you think you are in Cheer Land,” I say, rolling my neck like only a sistah can. It’s bad enough I have to hold my tongue at debutante functions. All of this humbling myself to the wrong people is messing with my emotions.

Fully aware of the drama unfolding center court. The rest of the varsity squad shift their focus from the routine and hone in on our loud conversation.

“Okay, ladies. Let’s all calm down,” Ms. Carter says, attempting
to regain control of the situation. “We only have an hour left to get this down.”

Ellen doesn’t budge and neither do I.

“Ms. Carter, I agree,” Ellen says. “We don’t have time for any losers on our team.”

“Exactly,” I say, stepping closer to her midget ass. She could double for one of the seven dwarfs if she was a dude. “This team was just fine before you arrived, so why don’t you go back home where your country ass belongs. And take that funky red scrunchy with you.”

The other girls snicker because they know I’m right about her choice in hair accessories. I’ve never done a white girl’s hair before, but maybe I should start. Some of these girls could use the help.

“She can’t talk to me like that,” Ellen says, looking as pissed as I feel.

This is such a waste of valuable time. In all honesty, I could be making money right now. There’s always someone in my mom’s hood to braid up.

“I’m the captain.”

There she goes with that title again.

“Okay, girls. Why don’t you both take a deep breath and count to ten,” Ms. Carter says. “The rest of you, get back to work. Jayd and Ellen will join in a minute.”

I don’t know about Ellen, but counting to ten isn’t going to do much to calm me down. Whatever joy cheer gave me during tryouts officially left with the two senior sistahs. The last thing I need is to voluntarily deal with perky white bitches on a daily basis. College program or not, quitting the squad sounds damn good to me.

“We’re not quitters, Jayd Jackson,”
my mom says, butting in as usual.
“Get your head straight and handle your business, girl.”

“Ready, set,” Ms. Carter says, clapping her hands and calling us back into line.

I look at the squad and weigh my options. Ellen smiles, thinking she knows I’m out of here. But my mom’s right: Williams women don’t quit.

“Okay,” we respond, clapping in unison and getting back into formation. I take my place at the far right end of the line. Once the second row of the pyramid is firmly secured, Ellen begins her climb to the top. She’s too close for my comfort and she knows it.

As Ellen mounts my right thigh, she purposely presses her heel into my knee and that’s her final bad. With the added pressure, my injured toe can’t take the pain. Attempting to focus on something else, my mind falls back to Jeremy and Cameron kissing, breaking my concentration and stability. With the pain coursing through my foot, I can’t hold on much longer.

“She’s going to fall!” Another teammate screams from the second tier, trying to hold herself and Ellen up, but it’s too late. My legs buckle, and like Humpty Dumpty, we all fall down.

“Shit!” Ellen shouts.

For a little proper miss, she sure does have a dirty mouth. I guess that comes with the assumed power of her position. We’re all okay, but Ms. Carter is not pleased.

“Let’s call it a day,” Ms. Carter says, totally exasperated with her girls. The two boy cheerleaders don’t come on until the fall. “Get some good rest tonight and come back with a different attitude tomorrow. Otherwise we’re not going to survive as a team.”

That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day long.

After a couple of hours of resting my toe, I’m ready to get some studying done. Unfortunately, I can’t get the image of
Jeremy cheating on me out of my mind. I know the vision wasn’t real, and because it wasn’t a dream, I don’t know if I can trust it as a premonition. However, something in my bones tells me I’m right. I don’t want to believe that Jeremy would do that to me after the rap he gave me about not being Rah, but he’s still human, and we all screw up.

Between this weekend’s dramatic events and this afternoon’s practice, I wish this week were over, but it’s only Monday. As if my life weren’t uncomfortable enough, my skin’s breaking out—another side effect of not sleeping well. I need one of Mama’s honey-molasses masks to clear my skin, but I’ll have to settle for making my own. My imperfect mixture will have to do until Mama returns.

Speaking of missing loved ones, my phone rings and I know it’s Jeremy. If he doesn’t get back soon, I’m going to change his ringtone from Usher’s “There Goes My Baby” to something not so sweet.

“There’s my girl,” Jeremy says, sounding like he’s in a much better mood than I am. Maybe there’s a good reason—or person—for that.

“Are you referring to me? Because this girl is feeling deserted.” I walk into the bathroom and look at my face in the mirror. My brown skin is smooth until my fingers get to my chin, my problem area. Unlike my cousin Jay, who has acne, I don’t usually break out unless I’m stressed out about something.

“Jayd, don’t be like that. I miss you, too, baby.”

Any other day, Jeremy’s deep voice would calm my nerves, but not today. I’m over it.

“Are you sleeping with Cameron?” I ask him point-blank. It might be because of my guilty conscience about feeling Keenan, but he doesn’t need to know all that. He doesn’t sound so innocent himself.

“What? No. Hell, no,” Jeremy says, thrown off by my accusation.

He sounds pretty convincing, but I’m still not sure he’s telling the truth. Something’s going on, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it. My visions don’t lie, but dudes do.

“Jeremy, I know you’re cheating. Just admit it,” I say into the phone while pinching my chin. These blackheads are driving me crazy. If I keep picking at my face like this, I’m not going to have any skin left.

“Jayd, I’m not cheating on you. What’s up with you lately? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes. I’m feeling fine,” I say, squeezing my skin with my fingernails until I bleed, but I don’t care. I can’t take these bumps on my face any longer. They have to go. “How you doin’?” I ask in my best Wendy Williams impersonation, not that Jeremy would catch that. I doubt he keeps up with the talk show diva.

“Jayd, seriously. Every time we talk, you sound different. I don’t know what it is, but something’s off.”

Jeremy’s right, but since he’s not here to see for himself, he doesn’t have much to say. “Now you’re calling me off?” I ask, officially scratching the shit out of my face. I can’t stop until it’s smooth. “You really sound guilty, Jeremy. Why don’t you just confess, because I’m not going to stop until I get the truth.”

“That is the truth,” Jeremy says, upset himself. “Damn, girl, you’re acting a bit insane. Have you been sleeping?”

He sounds too much like Rah for my taste. “Actually I haven’t, because I keep having visions of my boyfriend kissing another girl. He’s supposed to be vacationing with his family when all he really wants is a vacation from me. And you know what? You’ve got it. You’re free to frolic with whomever you please.” I take a tissue from the box on top of the toilet, soaking up the fresh wounds I dug into my brown
complexion. If Mama were here, she’d have my ass for damaging my skin.

“Jayd, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m calling Chance to come check on you.”

He can call Dr. Phil for all I care. I know I’m right, and I don’t need any help. What I need is an admission, and he knows I’m getting closer to the truth. Otherwise Jeremy wouldn’t sound so nervous.

“You mean Chase? He’s in Atlanta, or haven’t you heard he’s going black nowadays?”

“Okay, then, where’s Nigel?”

“Busy playing baby stepdaddy somewhere,” I say. I leave the bathroom and go into my mother’s room. I know she’s got some scar cream in here somewhere.

“Jayd, for real. I’m worried about you. You don’t sound right, and it’s scaring me. Please take care of yourself.”

Jeremy sounds so concerned about my well-being I almost feel bad for tripping on him, but I know I’m right. Why won’t he just tell me the truth so we can work it out? Dudes will lie to the very end. I’ve had it with his denial for today.

“And you do the same. I’ve got to go.” I hang up the phone and look at my reflection in my mom’s closet mirror. With the white tissues stuck to my bleeding face and my hair buck wild from lying down, I look as crazy as I feel. If I take care of myself this evening, I won’t be so easily disturbed by others tomorrow.

It’s hot as hell in my mom’s apartment, and I’ve got two floor fans blasting. I’ll start with a shower, then do a much-needed facial to heal my self-inflicted damage. By the weekend I should feel myself again. Maybe I’ll be better prepared to deal with my man next time he checks in. The last thing I want to do is destroy the best relationship I’ve ever had.

T
he first week of summer school wasn’t bad, other than Monday’s events. After falling, Ellen was quiet for the rest of the week. And once I got myself straight, my head was cool and my thoughts positive. It helped that I spent time in the spirit room every day after school since my services weren’t needed at Netta’s shop. I also learned that the annual Fourth of July block party is on this weekend. Everyone on Gunlock Avenue will be out enjoying the holiday. I might come through for a little while if for no other reason than to get a plate. Free barbeque is the best kind there is.

Mickey and I are supposed to check out day cares in the neighborhood today, since her grant from the county came through. She’s already on public assistance, and now she needs a part-time job to save up for an apartment. I guess she’s finally coming to the reality that in order to take care of her little family, she’s going to have to pitch in.

Mickey’s hood is only two miles from Mama’s house, but the loyalties are different. I don’t like coming into Blood ter-ritory—not that the Crips on our block are any better, but at least the gangs in my hood know my family. Over here I don’t feel as safe. When KJ and I dated last summer, I had to come over this way to visit him. Even if he considers himself living
in Rosewood—a small community within Compton’s perimeters—he’s still in the heart of Piru gang territory, the same gang Mickey’s ex-man and Tre, her baby daddy who saved Nigel’s life, belonged to. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live.

“What are you doing on this side of town?” Misty says, catching me off guard. I stopped at CVS to get something to drink and of course Misty would be shopping here, too. Cheer practice always leaves my mouth dry.