A Black Girl (Book 1)

Happiness Between My Thighs

My boyfriend told me over the phone last night in sultry whispers that he knew where to find happiness. I remember rolling my eyes and playing the fool as my eyes darted around the pitch black living room. It was my room for the night, after hearing Kizzy scream for an hour I'd made my way to the living room in hopes of getting at least four hours of sleep. Jamal wasn't helping with it either.

"Where?" I asked as I fell back on my makeshift bed of pillows and thick blankets.

"Your thighs."

It was always something different with him, he couldn't be normal like the other guys at school and tell me he was ready to smash on site. No, he thought that it would sound better if he made it poetic. He assumed that I adored poetry so much that him comparing happiness to the mound between my thighs would automatically be a panty droppa.

Um sorry, no.

"Oh really?" I muttered in a groggy voice because to be honest I didn't care what he was saying. I should have been offended but I was too tired to care about him attempting to persuade me out of my briefs. He had a fat chance in hell.

And whatever he said after that I didn't catch because I rolled over into Never-Never-Land and nearly missed my ride to school this morning.

"Roshni," Ciara snaps her fingers two times quickly in my face and does her trademark huff, "You not listening!"

It's not like I wanted to in the beginning.

"Yeah I am," I lie fingering the bent edge of my red spiral notebook.

All I've heard to begin with is what she's planning on doing with her boyfriend, after that I kinda zoned out and drifted back into my own personal la-la land. Ciara could do that to you, bore the hell out of you with her life's ambitions and dreams I mean. Awesome friend...but her conversation is killer and not in a good way.

"Do you think I'm ready?"

"Yeah," I sink down into my seat, prop my elbow on the vandalized desk and look at her without really looking. I can see her long flowing brown weave with stray blond hairs, her bright skin, small pink lips and almond eyes, but I can't see her. There's too much fakery going on to see her.

Not that I think she's fake....I just think she's fallen off from the RNS-Train.

"I dunno If I'm ready though."

I swear you were ready when Nick swept you off your feet, when Derek called you beautiful and when Michael told you that there might not be a tomorrow so YOLO.

But I'm not a mean person, at least I hope not, I have a bitter edge but it's only directed towards guys when they're pissing me off like crazy.

"Well do it when you're ready," I mutter as my eyes dart towards the white circular clock hanging above the blackboard that should really be a whiteboard except my school is too low on funds to change every board to a white one.

Ms. Lisa our pregnant teacher who should be out of here anytime soon to have her baby looks like she's about to perish over her desk right now. Her hair looks a mess, it's like wild curls stuck to a thorny crown, while her eyes have this drooping thing going along as she tries to finish grading the quizzes'. And as terrible as she looks I feel really bad for her because word around the street is that her husband left her two months ago for an Armenian girl with raven black hair and sapphire eyes.

I feel really bad for her because she's an amazing teacher. She's polite, she's patient, and God her heart is just so big and open that I wonder how a man could have overlooked her for someone else. Ciara's talking again but I don't hear her, my head isn't even turned in her direction. Instead I'm carefully watching Ms. Lisa and I promise I can see something glinting in her eyes and something wet up on her cheeks, I'm not imagining it. She's crying, and I know that she doesn't want anybody else to know so she holds her head down, and the fluorescent lights assault her so that her dark skin almost looks ghostly instead of rich and vibrant like it should be.

I want to do something, but any movement will alert everyone to what's going on and I don't want to embarrass her like that. I'm just going to let her sit to herself and cry like she wants to, but as I turn my head and fully resign myself to the idea of letting her take care of her own problems I feel bad. I feel like somethings gnawing at my heart each time I see the glimmer in her eyes and the wet streak on her cheek. I think about how dirty men can be and how they can completely forget who you are and what you've done for some passing piece of meat.

"Hey baby," Jamal slings one arm around me and presses a hard kiss against my cheek, I feel the tingle again, that high feeling like this is my baby and you Ho's can't have him.

I want to do my Na-na-na dance as we pass Kendra, Jamal's ex who still hasn't gotten over him yet. She thinks he was stupid for choosing me as a girlfriend and she doesn't mind letting everybody know that he downgraded for me. I press my body closer to Jamals, wrap my arms around his waist and coo, "Hey baby." Just for the hell of it.

Now take that you dolla-hungry-ho.

At my school we don't have the popular kids, or the geeky kids, or the too cool to be in a group kids. Sure we have the guys and the girls that everybody wants to be the cliques unrelated to social standing and other crap like that, but we're just black & Hispanic. We're just trying to get out of highschool simple like that.

Kendra crosses her legs and eyes Jamal like the hungry trick I know she is, her mini skirt hitches up slightly and she absentmindedly  rubs at her bare yellow thigh, which are as thin as my patience with my Daddy right now. She wraps her arms against her chest and leans over to her best friend Cassie whispering. Her curly hair falls over her shoulder and I just know that when she flips it over to the side it's for Jamal because he has a weakness for bright girls with long curly hair.

Amused I ignore her like I always and pull away from my Baby Jamal to lace my fingers into his. I turn to the side and smile up at him and he smiles down at me and I'm thinking that I have to be the luckiest girl in the world because my baby is badd, yes he's bad with two ds. Tall, athletic, thick muscular arms, light-brown skin, endless waves and hazel eyes that has every girl at our high school  saying "Oh, damn! He can get it."

"You wanna chill at my place tonight?" Jamal chucks me under the chin and gives me another one of those hard kisses that he likes and that I tolerate.

His place, hmm...that sounds like a bad idea, but I'm too mad at my Daddy to go straight home right now. I don't want to go home and be yelled at about not washing the dishes like I was supposed to or not ironing his favorite shirt for work and all the things that Kelso and Shawna should be doing instead of me.

"And do what?" Because I know exactly what he wants to do, he want's to talk about the hills between my thighs again and I would say no, but I like him enough to consider going regardless.

"Watch ATL."

My eyes roll and I laugh as the  yellow school bus's line up in front of the gate and wait for their students to get on so they can drive them home.

"You love him don't you?"

I mean T.I. but he knows what I mean so I don't have to explain myself as I push at him playfully and watch the sun catch the light brown flecks in his eyes. He holds my hand and smiles softly as he leans in, bites at my ear and whispers, "Not as much as I love you."