A Black Girl (Book 1)

Ghetto-Fied

“Daddy!” My too loud boom echoes throughout the house as I lean against the front door, one foot out, the other foot in. I don’t need to walk through the dark-dank house to know where he is right now, hell I can picture him setting (because that’s what My grandma says instead of sitting) in his bed with a six pack beside him as he watches reruns of The Bernie Mac Show.

My sister is trying to rock the baby to sleep once again, and from the smell of burnt plants lingering in the backyard I know that my brother is back there lighting up behind the shed house. Cooling it like a mothafuc—

“What!?”

No politeness anywhere, straight hollering at the only person who’s trying to do anything here. That’s my Daddy, nonchalant about everything.

But I’m not going to tell him that, instead I swallow my anger and fix my voice before yelling again, “I’m finst to go to Ciara’s!”

It’s Friday, the first Friday in months that I’ve even dared to pull this shit again but I’m doing it.

And he bet not say na’uh word.

Because today…no tonight I’m going to do what I want to do. And he can’t stop me.

I’m seventeen years old and I’m a grown woman. Aint that what every black girl say at seventeen? But she accompanies it with a finger snap and hand pressed against her hip like she about to start twerking to a song in a minute….because she’s so grown that bandz uh make her dance.

Theres a long pause while I’m waiting for his answer. It’s times like these that make me wonder if God is going to strike me down for being such a bad Christian because I know and he knows that what I’m about to get into tonight aint Godlike by the long strike.

But Daddy wouldn’t care about me being a sweet little Christian girl, according to him he’s atheist..

I think it’s sad though.

While I’m perusing through these random thoughts I hear the volume of his T.V. steadily lowering. That means he’s pondering what he’s going to say and how he’s going to say it. It seems like he does that a lot lately although I hardly ever go anywhere. The last time I went to the movies was last month and what he doesn’t know is that Jamal snuck and picked me up from Ciaras house and instead of watching the movies we made out in the back seat of his car.

Now that was a good movie.

I’ll admit it, I’m not a squeaky clean teenager. In fact, the only thing clean about me is the fact that I’m a virgin.

That’s the only thing…which is kinda sad if you think about it. I’ve met some really innocent girls with their virginity so far removed from their va-jay-jay that it would have Ludicris screaming I gotta see it!

Nevertheless I’m a virgin..

Not an idiot.

“When you comin back home?” He speaks gently, ever now and again elevating his voice so that it doesn’t betray him. If he’s not cautious then he’s suspicious.

I rub the doorknob gently, it’s like a genie bottle to me and I’m beckoning the doorknob genie to come out and grant me three wishes.

1.       That I can get the hell out of there without my daddy threating me with the belt

2.       That I can get the hell out of there an come back when I get good and ready

3.       That I can ask for three more wishes

“I dunno daddy, I was thinking about staying until Sunday..” I tread lightly here because it can either turn good or bad when religion comes up, “…so that I could go to church with her.”