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Yasmin Palmer | @maaminextdoor "serrano girls so damn hood but we're so damn pretty"
I watched as white teens made they way into the house, all dressed up in what seemed to be the same outfit but just different colors. Most of the girls wore tube tops or bandeaus with shorts that didn't even cover half their asses. I looked down at my own attire, which was a Warrior's jersey and some grey leggings, then back at theirs with confusion.
The driveway was filled with nice ass cars, making Kenya's 1997 Ford Taurus look like a damn garbage truck. I knew there was something off when we had to go through a gate to get in here.
"Kenya, the fuck kinda party is this?" I turned in confusion to my bestfriend who stopped the car in front of one of the biggest houses I had ever seen up close.
"Girl Jayo said come, so I came," she shrugged she had the same look of confusion on her face as I did. Her tank top and leather pants would stick out like a sore thumb in the same way my fit would.
Since I was born, Kenya and her family lived across the street from. Being half Haitian, she spoke just as good creole as she spoke english, which came in handy when we was out in public tryna talk bad on somebody. I was Haitian too.
Despite being bestfriends basically since birth, Kenya and I was two different people when it came to the way we dressed. We was both loud, bold, and shared the same sense of humor, but while I dressed more mainstream, Kenya was more likely to dress in vintage clothes two sizes too big.
Nonetheless, I considered her a sister over anything.
"What business Jayo got here? Whose party is this anyway?"
Jayo was Kenya's boo. I mean, they weren't official or none but everyone at school knew they was for each other. Jayo was a star athlete at our school and had offers coming at him since we was freshmen. We were all seniors. If anybody was gon make it out our little hood, it was him.
"Ion know girl. You know Jayo be cook with everybody," she thought for a moment before picking up her phone. "Hold up—maybe I got the wrong address."
"Girl I know you ain't have me sneak out the house for this," I rolled my eyes, as I ran another coat of lipgloss over my lips.
"Kalin don't know where you at?" she asked.
Kalin was my older brother. Ever since my momma went missing about three years ago, it was just me him and our kid brother Jax. At nineteen, Kalin made the decision to drop out of college to watch over us. He was respected on the streets, which came with protection for me and Jax wherever we went. But still, Kalin ain't like the idea of me being out late, especially not on this side of town.
