"Junior— baby are you alright? You haven't touched a thing on your plate. Are you feelin' sick or somethin'?" His mother's delicate voice knocked him out of his deep thinking as she rubbed his back with the palm of her hand. The answer was no, he wasn't okay. He had been playing hooky for the past three days to avoided the judging stares and comments he would hear as he walked through the halls of James Baldwin high— ranked as the worst school ever in his book.
His face went pale as all the eyes belonging to his family were plastered on him. He gulped to hold back the vomit that threatened to erupt from his mouth and gave his family a tight grin. "Mhm. I'm alright mama— I-I'm just waitin' on my food to cool off some— it was a little too hot." His eyes peered down at the banana flavored oatmeal sitting in the green glass bowl that had been in front of him for the past five minutes, waiting to be eaten, but little did it know, it made Donald's stomach turn in circles like a roller coaster the more he participated in a staring contest with it.
"Well lil' boy we ain't got time fuh you to be waitin' around. Now, y'all gotta be at school on time, no more playin' hooky— ya' done missed three days because ya' been foolin' ya' mama— but ya' ain't foolin' me, now hurry up!" Reverend Don lectured his eldest son as he removed himself and his now empty plate from the dining room table and going into the kitchen to wash his dish off.
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he picked up his spoon, and shoved a scoop of his breakfast into his mouth. It wasn't that he hated oatmeal, it was the fact that he didn't have an appetite for anything at the moment. He couldn't even stomach the fact that he's going to be the clown of Baldwin high for the rest of its miserable existence.
Mrs. DeGrate could see right through her eldest son like he was glass. As she raised her three boys, she discovered that Donald acted just like her, he reminded her of herself when she was his age. She remembered going through some of the worst moments of her adolescence and being scared straight— too scared to voice her problems with her parents. She knew when her boys would be in some trouble— it was all in the appearance. With Dalvin, he'd stutter a lot when he would speak, Derek would avoid eye contact with everyone, and Donald would turn pale in the skin, sometimes he would even lose his appetite depending on how bad his problems were.
Mrs. DeGrate tilts her head as she studied Donald's actions carefully as he sat next to her in the chair, stuffing his face with the last bit of oatmeal in his bowl, and washing it down with the cold cup of water. "Junior, you do know that I know you, right? I know all of you crazy little boys."
He nods." Yep! I know, mama. But I promise nothing is wrong." He politely excused himself from the table and joined his younger brothers by the kitchen sink as they quickly scrubbed the leftover bits of oatmeal from their dishes. Suds flew everywhere as they raced the clock.
"You promise on the Bible?" He froze his actions. Shit, he winced to himself. That was her trick to getting to the truth, but he couldn't. He had to lie and just take whatever punishment the lord had for him like a man, he figured that it couldn't be worse than the ass whipping he'd get from his father.
Derek snickers, tossing his bowl into the dishwasher. "I hope you get struck by lightning, liar." Donald removes his hand from the balmy dish water and smacked Derek on the back of his head. He winces, using all of his strength to push Donald into the marble countertop with his hip.
"I promise on the Bible mama..." He sighs. His younger brothers shakes their heads, peering at him with shameful eyes as they rinsed their hands off with cool water as they reeked of bleach and dish soap.
"Mmm mmm mmm— God gone getchu' for all that lyin'— and I can't wait til it happens." Dalvin snickers as he and Derek left Donald by himself in the kitchen as they scurried off up the stairs into their bedrooms to prepare themselves for what they planned to be a good day for them, and and a bad day for their eldest brother.
—————
Just ignore 'em, Don. They miserable just like everyone else and all they gone do is talk about ya. Donald prepped himself for the humiliation walk he would take as he finally entered the school's building. He spent fifteen minutes standing on the cement stairway at the front of the school with Michael, talking and thinking about whatever he could to prevent himself from walking through the halls, and as he is currently strolling with his head held high, he was slowly starting to regret it. The halls on the first floor were more crowded than usual before the bell would ring for first period.
He could feel and physically see the stares of judgement coming from students in his age group in his peripheral. Was it his hair? His outfit? Did he stink? He winced to himself as he glanced down at the pastel green, khaki pants, and black converses that were covering his slender frame. He pulled the first articles of clothing he found in his closet and made it work as an outfit. He didn't bother to let his father shape up his haircut this morning, he just combed it out with his pick and patted it down to make it look decent for the public.
He had a black jacket covering his slender arms, but it did not prevent the goosebumps from forming on his arms under the thin cotton material. He pulled the hood over his hair to avoid those staring at him and commenting about the worst moment of his life that occurred at the skating rink, he could've sworn he saw some familiar faces standing in the hall from that night.
He tried to cheer himself up for the simple fact that his birthday was coming up— faster than he expected. He was going to be fourteen years old, he would officially be considered as one of the "cool kids", he would finally be able to hang in the same presence as the much older popular boys, he could finally shoot his shot at his lady, and officially make her his. He could care less about it. He planned on spending it locked away in his bedroom with a twinkie and a candle, wishing to disappear from the hell hole he was trapped in.
He hasn't spoken to his woman since she called him that morning, begging for his forgiveness. He wanted to forgive her, because he really liked her. As much as she made him smile, she broke his heart everyday, she made him look like the biggest clown in Charlotte, and that was the final straw. He cut off all contact with Kandice and kept his distance from her. He had forgiven her for the sake of his mental health, but he figured it was best that she stop entertaining him until she knew for sure who she wanted to be her man.
Gripping onto the spine of his algebra textbook, he stepped foot into the spacious apple cinnamon scented classroom belonging to Mrs. Gregorio— making his presence known to the few students who were already seated behind their desk of the day. He sighed to himself with relief that he beat the final bell, and he wouldn't have to hear complaining about a tardy slip.
Mrs. Gregorio turned on the heel of her brown ups, her attention pulling away from the chalkboard and onto Donald as the noise of his footsteps alerted her of someone walking into the classroom. She stood in front of the chalkboard, waiting patiently for her freshman students to settle down in their seats. Donald could see that she was onto a new lesson for the class, polynomials. He could sense that he would hate it.
He groaned as he noticed that his classmates took up most of the seats in the classroom, maybe he should've came in earlier. Keeping his head low, he scurried down a row and took the seat in the back of the classroom, behind Monica, who cursively wrote something down in her journal for the class. He hasn't had any sorts of communication with her since the incident at the roller skating rink, and he didn't know why. She just started to ignore him out of the blue, and when he would try to spark up a conversation with her, she would reply with one-word responses.
He prayed to God that he would give him the strength to survive this long class period with her, he knew how petty and stubborn she could get when she was upset with someone, it would drive him crazy. He dropped his book bag down beside him on the floor. He roamed through his backpack, searching for some sort of a writing utensil, but cursed himself out when he realized he forgot them at home when he was rushing out of the door to catch the bus.
His hazel eyes then came upon Monica's actions, she reached in her backpack and pulled out a hot pink colored pen with a feather ball on top, he identified it as her "special" pen that she told him about. He acknowledged the fact that she possibly hated his guts at the moment, but he also acknowledged the fact that he would be in store for an ass whipping if his father got another call from the school about him coming to school unprepared. Stuck in a difficult ultimatum, he chose the easy route.
Hesitantly reaching out, he sent a gentle tap on her shoulder, softly enough to not startle her, but hard enough to gain her attention. She peeked over her shoulder and muttered "what?"
"You got a pencil I can use? I left mines at home." He whispered in response. Mrs. Gregorio was too occupied with the formulas she was writing on the chalkboard to notice the side conversations happening in the back of her classroom.
Monica sighs with frustration, brushing a piece of her hair from in front of her eyes. "How many times are you gonna keep forgetting your stuff?! You just forgot them last Friday— and you've been playing hooky for the past few days! You tellin' me you ain't touch them pencils at all while out on your lil' vacation!?"
She was right, he didn't lay a finger on those pencils. He was too busy hiding under his covers like it was a zombie apocalypse happening, he still believes that zombies are real and can come and eat your brains out at any time. He releases his own sigh of defeat, he gave up and was just going to have to miss out on the notes. "Never mind. You ain't gotta give me one. I knew you hated me..."
Monica's facial expression soften at the words uttering from his mouth. She didn't hate him, she couldn't find it in her heart to hate anyone, hate was a strong word and if she found out that anyone had hatred towards her, it would break her heart, just like it was breaking Donald's. She pushed the gold glasses up on the bridge of her nose as she reached into one of the pockets of her book-bag, pulling out a yellow pencil and turning towards Donald.
He took the pencil onto his hands, hiding his shock at her friendly gesture with a grin. "Thanks."
She nods softly with a smirk. "Don't ever think I hate you, cause I don't— m'kay?"
"Yeah... I promise."
Their giggles could be heard from some of their classmates. Mrs. Gregorio's long wavy brown hair tossed over her shoulder as she turned to face the class. Her green cat eyes landed on Monica and Donald as she followed the sounds of the laughter. "Miss Hayes— Mr. DeGrate, is everything alright back there?"
Donald smirks at Monica as she turned around in her chair and then back at Ms. Gregorio. "Yes ma'am, we're fine. Sorry for the disruption."
—————-
She took another bite out of the sweet sandwich her mother packed for her and her brother this morning, her stomach had been growling like a tiger ever since she left out of her algebra class, so as soon as she found a seat in the crowded cafeteria, she wasted no time and dug into her tasty meal of the day. Her mind wandered back to her brother, she hadn't seen him since they went their separate directions in the morning. They had no classes together, not even Physical Ed., Art, Culinary, or Drivers Ed. Those were the only classes that all grades shared together.
He had a different lunch than her since the school separated the students based off of the three floors of the school's building. She couldn't say that she missed him, then she would be lying. She just missed getting on his nerves all day. Other than that, her academic life was normal. Her English Literature teacher was an older African American guy— Mr. Carmichael. He nags about the ridiculous behavior of students more than he teaches an actual English lesson. Monica can't even remember the last time they had homework, or simple vocabulary words, not even an essay.
All she knew was that he was one of those old school guys who resented the younger generation. From what she was told from Shannon Williams was that Mr. Carmichael has been bitter ever since his wife divorced him and left him for someone younger, with more hair, and more abs. Shannon was a fellow classmate of Monica's. They met on the first day of school in their home room class, and they shared other classes together. Shannon was more so closed off— it took her a while to open up to Monica, after a while, she couldn't get through the day without talking to her. They are inseparable.
"Can you believe Mr. Killicks got the nerve to make me write a five paragraph essay on the pros and cons of exercising?! I mean— it's exercising! How can there be any cons to that?! And I had to run a lap around the track because I was talking to Ricky Evans during his little lesson. I swear on the Bible I hate that man." Shannon's rambling knocked Monica out of her thoughts as she turned her attention back onto her. Shannon was ridding her fingers of the grease and crumbs that came from the chicken wings the cafeteria was serving today.
Monica giggles, chugging down the last bit of milk from the carton. "I told you that boy was gonna get you in trouble— you can't let the cute looks fool you all the time. He is not that cute, he's just light skinned with pretty eyes." Shannon rolls her eyes. Shannon was sweet on Ricky Evans. He was in the eleventh grade, and he was one of the popular boys in the school. If it wasn't one of the star athletes, it was him that all the girls wanted a piece of. Monica couldn't see it. He was just your typical light skinned boy with pretty eyes and pretty hair that acted tough because people called him 'weak' or 'soft' or 'pretty boy'. So he turned into 'gangster boy', and Shannon was turning out to be one of those girls that took a liking in those kind of guys.
"I can't help it if he's cute. I liked him more than the boy I used to like in middle school. And I know you ain't talkin'! You been yappin' 'bout donkey lookin' Travis since the first day of school, missy." Shannon exclaimed teased. Smacking on the chicken skin and swallowing it down with water from her water bottle.
Monica rolled her eyes at the truth Shannon revealed. It wasn't a secret to some that Monica was slowly starting to enjoy Travis' company. He was a sweet guy, he wasn't that friendly flirtatious football player— he didn't fit in that stereotype. He actually enjoyed talking to Monica— sometimes he would be the first to call after football practice. He would walk her to class from time to time, sit with her at lunch, skip his lunch to go to hers. He even introduced her to some of the players on the football team, some whom he was great friends with. It felt official. The only thing that was missing was him popping the question. She was close to doing it herself— but didn't want to seem desperate.
"Chile boo. Me and Travis are just getting to know eachother. You actin' like I said we were getting married, knowin' that's more up Denise's alley. Where is she anyway? Doesn't she have this lunch?" Monica asked Shannon, who shrugged in response. Monica's eyes scanned across the cafeteria, hoping she would sight her other friend somewhere in the spacious room. She sighs defeatedly when Denise is nowhere to be found.
Denise Adams was another friend of Monica's. They met in science class when they were assigned behind the same lab counter. Denise was an suede skinned girl. She was very short, standing at exactly five feet. She was the total opposite of Shannon. Denise was more welcoming and friendly towards Monica. She yanked her out of her shell when she was freaking out about finally being in high school, or what Mikey calls it "The worst four years of your life". Shannon and Denise were like water and oil, Apples and oranges, Orange juice and toothpaste— they don't mix, the don't combine, they don't relate— they don't get along.
From Monica's understanding, the girls has previous problems stretching all the way back to elementary school. They had issues Monica didn't know about, and they never solved most of them, which is why they bump heads most of the time. She's been around both separately and they say nothing but mean nasty gossipy things about eachother. She's noticed that they are actually alike, they're spiritual soulmates. Shannon was from West Sugar Creek, and Denise grew up in Huntersville. Shannon's parents were a Mechanic and a stay at home mother. Denise's parents were a lawyer and a real estate agent. They were from two opposite sides of life.
"She does. She's probably on the other side with those Boujee cheerleaders. I can't wait until tryouts happen again. Maybe we'll get some more black girls." Shannon mumbles, ripping open a bag of nacho cheese Doritos.
Monica chuckles. "Just curious... what ever happened between you two? I thought you said you guys were past elementary school."
"She. Is. Boujee. As. Hell. Monica. She thinks she's better than everyone because she's on the varsity cheerleading team only in the ninth grade, and because she got all that pretty hair, with the pretty skin, and the pretty eyes. You think boys gone go for girls like us over girls like Denise!? Hell no!? Her own daddy cheats on her mama with these ugly light skinned and exotic women. And guess what... her mama looks like us!" Shannon rambles on about other reasons she despises Denise.
Monica frowns at the secret Denise told them both out of confidence. Denise confided in them about the secret affairs her father has been having with other women behind her mother's back. She even caught them in their home when her mother was out working late or on business trips. Her father had no idea about her knowledge of his wrong doings. She told them that it went from random women he'd meet at a random place to clients, client's wives, colleagues wive's, neighbors, dancers. Papa was a rolling stone, literally. It hurt Denise because he would smile in her mother's face like he was happy and so in love with her, but would cheat with loose women who looked nothing like her beautiful mother. She would say how she always noticed how the women were lighter than her mother, a bit thinner, and had "pretty hair" like her. To make matters worse, she couldn't say anything if she wanted to. Lord knows how it would push her mother over the edge with all the things she has been through.
"Come on. Shan. Don't do that! Denise told us that out of confidence so don't use that against her. I'm sure you wouldn't like it if she did that to you." Monica groans.
Shannon waves her off, sucking her teeth. "Chile boo— my daddy don't cheat. He got too many kids and works too many long hours to even go out with his friends or to do the deed with my mama. But Mr. Adams on the other hand, he dances from woman to woman— changing women like he changes his underwear. Just watch... her mama gone catch him."
Monica sighs, mumbling 'oh lord' as she continues to eat the rest of her lunch before it is time for her to go back to class. Her eyes came upon Donald and her brother. He snuck up in the cafeteria like a ghost. He gained the habit of skipping class to stay at all three lunch breaks. She was surprised to see that they were still on good terms. Donald seemed pissed at the world after he almost got his butt whipped over Kandice. Unfortunately for Monica, it gave Kandice more opportunities to make her life a living hell. She recently realized that she and Kandice have Physical Ed. together, so they would see eachother more than Monica would like to see her, which is never.
Monica was genuinely shocked that Donald kept his distance from Kandice. She would notice how Kandice had this charm that had Donald weak in his knees, even though it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Kandice didn't feel the same about Donald. Every time in gym, Kandice and her green cat eyes would eye Monica down like prey— like she stole her puppy. She would bump shoulders with her in the hallways. It escalated to the point where Shannon noticed and almost sent a right hook to Kandice's face if it wasn't for Denise and Monica being there to prevent her from getting into some trouble.
Shannon gasps, tapping Monica on her arm as she appeared to have seen someone, or maybe a ghost. "Monica! Here he comes." She squeals and jumps up and down on the bench as Travis makes his presence known to the girls. He strolled over to the bench with a smile bigger than the joker's on his face. He took a seat on the bench across from Monica and Shannon.
"How's it going, babe? How you doing, Shan." Babe?! Shivers shot down her spine at the new nickname Travis came up with for her. Whenever they would talk, it would be Mo or pumpkin, like everyone else. The names babe or baby were the next level. It meant that you guys were close to becoming lovers. It was just a matter of time before he would ask her to be his woman. "Hey, T. Everything's going just fine. You got practice today?"
He nods his head yes. "Yeah, sorry. Coach has been up our asses cause we got a game tomorrow night. But I'll make sure that I call you before you lay down to get your beauty rest."
She nods understandingly. "I see, it's alright though. I know you have work after than too— so don't pressure yourself. You'll catch up with me."
He laughs, "I hear you, sweetheart. But I know how you get so... imma call you— stay by that phone later on tonight. Maybe we can talk about going out sometime. I know this nice little joint around the way, you will like it."
"I promise you will."
Meanwhile, in the back sat Donald and Michael munching on the last bits of the fried chicken on Donald's tray. Michael took a quick trip down to the cafeteria to check up on Donald's wellbeing, knowing he wasn't too fond of coming back to school. He remember when Donald told him that he tried convincing his parents to let him go to Sugar Creek High, another school near where the Hailey's resided, it was ranked the worst school in Charlotte, but Donald would rather go to Sugar Creek than to ever show his face at James Baldwin.
"You talked to coach Harris yet?" Donald inquired, wiping the grease off of his fingertips with a napkin. He tried to talk about anything that would take his mind off of things.
Michael sucked his teeth, chugging down the strawberry milk remaining in the small milk carton. "I gotta try out, just like everybody else. But tryouts are all the way in November— the hell I'm 'posed to do til then?"
Donald shrugs at an idea that popped up in his head. "I don't know— maybe practice a lil' bit. Or try to get your job back at the grocery store, maybe Maureen can help you."
Michael shakes his head. "Nah, Don. We kinda ain't on good terms at the moment. She flipped out on me— once again."
"What did you do now?" He laughs.
"I was over at her house— we were doing just fine. Then she wants to start talking about the homecoming dance and stuff... and I told her the truth! I ain't wanna go to no dance, so she got upset and she told me to go home. I swear that girl drives me crazy sometimes." Michael exclaimed over Donald's fit of hysterical laughter.
"I told you that girl was a nutcase!" He exclaimed.
Michael waved him off, "Man whatever, you need to worry about that nutcase that's been stalking you— look at'er just waltzin' over here like she ain't start all this drama in the first place."
Donald's specs turn to where Michael was pointing. There, he seen Kandice for the first time in a while. She got caught red handed staring him down like a hawk, and she took it upon herself to stand up from here she was seated with Sherri and Jasmin, making her way towards Donald's table. She ran her sweaty palms down the cotton material of her long sleeve black shirt, her brown sandals dragged on the tile floor, her hands behind her back with something in her hands— specifically for Donald, she wore a gentle smirk on her face, hoping to earn his forgiveness and his trust back.
"What do you want, Kandice." Donald asks her, acknowledging her presence.
She frowns at his usage of her name, which was unusual. "I just want to talk to you, is that alright?" She pouted like a baby, peering her cat eyes into his soul, trying to have him wrapped around her finger, once again. Michael shook his head with a chuckle, he turned away to someone he knew, giving the two some privacy to talk things out.
"Donnie, Look I—"
"Donald. My name is Donald. You don't get to call me Donnie no more— people don't do that anyway." Donald shuts her down. She bit her bottom lip, wincing at the stern in his tone.
"Donald. I am so sorry for what happened. For Trevor, for lying— everything! I swear I ain't playin' you, Trevor's a jealous liar because I ain't kissin' his behind! I'm for you and only you."
"Ain't that what you been doin' to me? Havin' me 'round here kissin' your behind?"
Kandice shook her head disapprovingly. "No, no, no! Donald, Trevor was just sayin' all that crap to get in your head. C'mon babe. Look— if I didn't like you, I would be doing all of this. And I wouldn't have spent my money on you for this."
She pulled the secret prize from her lap and placed it down in front of him. His eyes got big as he reached for it, his breathing picked up along with his heart beats as he held it in his hands. It was a cassette tape of Prince's "Controversy" album. It was the best album prince had ever made in Donald's opinion.
"H-How'd you know I liked it?" He stammered.
Kandy giggled at his reaction, finding it adorable. "I have my ways, Don. I know it's one of your favorites. I traded my favorite lipstick for it— it's not bootleg, I promise!"
Donald bites back a laugh, substituting it with a chuckle as he ran his thumb across the album cover. "Thanks Kan. I really appreciate it. I do."
"No need to thank me, babe. Just forgive me, please, and we can go on from there." Kandice begs him.
"Hm. I'll think about it."