Avoiding DeAndre after Tuesday's disaster in class and encounter at After Hours had been easy. He didn't show up at Henry's and neither of us commented on each other's remarks in class. By the time Friday rolled around I was convinced I could avoid his party as well.
There was only one period left of the day and I fortunately had the day off work, it was up to Troiann as far as what we were going to do for the evening. I was up for anything that didn't involve overrated boys and their egos.
I was just about to ask Troiann what she wanted to do when the PA buzzed and the assistant principal came on to remind us about the upcoming talent show in a month.
"Ain't nobody trying to be in no talent show," Troiann said, waving off the announcement. "Not like anyone's got talent that doesn't involve a ball."
"Some of these girls would pay to see one of the Ballas throw or bounce a ball." That was just how pathetic the Bunnies were.
Troiann chuckled. "Hell yeah. I actually wouldn't mind seeing Marcus throw a ball."
I waited for the punch line but it never came. "Eww, Troy, no."
Troiann shrugged. "Marcus is cute, Cree."
Across the room sat Marcus and the rest of the Ballas' Club. All were J'd up, wearing clothes that accentuated their suave looks. Marcus was leaning back; one of his arms was propped up so he could rest his head on his fist. The act making his bulging muscles show in his tattooed bicep.
Marcus was cute, but guys like him and the rest of the Ballas were nothing but trouble.
I shook my head. "No way, Troy. Too much drama."
Troiann looked over at Marcus and frowned. "You right, he ain't that cute anyway."
For the pain he and the rest of the boys often caused, no he wasn't.
Mr. Donatelli called the class to order, wanting to get back to his lesson. "Let's talk about cultural geography," he said. "Due to the separation of Pangaea, a lot of the world's culture and its people grew diverse as a result. With miles of ocean separating continents and countries, it's no surprise that some of us have accents and different customs."
There were only ten minutes left of class and he wanted to bring this up now?
I snuck a frown at Troiann and she did her best not to laugh.
"Whether your culture's American, or not," Mr. Donatelli went on.
Troiann rolled her eyes, whispering, "What's that supposed to mean?"
I elbowed her. "You're American."
"My momma ain't."
Now I was rolling my eyes. Typical Troiann.
"Sometimes culture goes along with ethnic background, would you agree?" Mr. Donatelli asked.
A few of us murmured in agreement to speed things along.
Mr. Donatelli hummed, stroking his chin. "Interesting. Fashion, film, music and language goes along with culture, doesn't it?"
Again we agreed.
Mr. Donatelli looked at all of us, studying each row of desks. "Let's examine African American culture."
Here we go. Despite the fact that I hated the term "African American," the last thing I wanted to do was discuss the culture I was allegedly a part of. If there was one thing I knew in my short seventeen years on the planet, it was that black culture was popular, black people weren't. When it came to fashion, language and every aspect of our culture, other people had no problem copying us and going along. Preppy white girls went around saying cray-cray, yet wouldn't sit next to the next Kanye West if their life depended on it.
But then again, it seemed more and more, that white was the new black as far as "African American" men or boys were concerned in the dating department.
Did I want to discuss the continuous downfall of my people? No.
"Let's face it, this school is predominantly African American, I would say that is the most influential culture Moorehead has."
Looking around the room filled with various shades of brown skin, there was no denying the fact.
"I see what you guys wear, hear what you listen to, how you talk—actually, that's brings me to a good topic," said Mr. Donatelli. "Now the N-word—"
The class was in an uproar before he could get the rest of his thoughts out.
Mr. Donatelli sat back and crossed his arms. "Perhaps some of you would like to speak on it?"
All at once people started speaking, some daring Mr. Donatelli to say it, others watching with guarded eyes to see if he'd utter such an offense, and some speaking against or for it.
DeAndre raised his hand, properly gaining permission to speak. "It's funny how you don't see any other race teaching their youth to use the racial slurs against them to each other casually, yet some blacks feel the need to continue on the hate. When I was a kid I said it once and my grandmomma whooped me and told me never to say it again. She told me that people died hearing those words and for that I just don't say it. It's about respect for the past and perseverance for the future."
It was times when he spoke so eloquently that I felt like I didn't really know who DeAndre was more than the already present mystery that was at hand.
Arrogant Balla or not, I agreed with everything he said. We learned about the Holocaust and the Japanese Internment and yet their youths did not grow up to speak the slanderous slurs that had been tossed the way of their elders. Mr. Donatelli was wrong in choosing "African American" as a topic, our culture had its ups and downs, and a lot of it started with its own people.
Mr. Donatelli commended DeAndre as the bell rang. "I like that. I wanna study this more. I'm thinking of assigning a paper to pairs to see how you would define your culture and what it means to you. Ten pages, due at the end of the grading period. It's either that or a final exam, up to you. See you Monday, class dismissed."
He was basically giving us an optional way out of studying for exams, though I was sure the paper wouldn't be that easy if he expected us to type out ten pages. Thank God for double space.
Troiann and I headed out of the room and Troiann went on to ramble on about Mr. Donatelli "picking on" those who weren't American born. It was funny because though her mother was merely born in Vietnam, one couldn't tell by her actions. But after so many years of being Troy's friend, I knew when to just agree with her for peace's sake.
"Okay, Troy," I said as I held in a laugh.
"I'm just saying, Cree, we're all different," Troiann continued as we headed down the hall.
"Some might say we're all human."
"Some could suck—"
"Troy!" I was just about to lay into her when something to my left caught my eye.
On the wall hung a poster of a girl crying and holding a pregnancy test. A caption of: THEY TOLD ME YOU COULDN'T GET PREGNANT YOUR FIRST TIME...THEY WERE WRONG was underneath it, along with basic facts about abstinence and safe sex.
Troiann shook her head. "Oh God, that should be every girl's fear, getting pregnant through some really bad sex."
I cringed. "What?"
Troiann looked at me. "The first time does not feel good, it ain't all sunshine and roses, at least it wasn't for me. I'm just saying it would suck to get pregnant after that. At least get knocked up while you're getting it good, you know?"
Getting it good? It was so easy for Troy to talk that way. Me, I hadn't gotten it at all. If my first time was going to suck, I definitely wasn't looking forward to it any more than I was before.
"It's only bad because he's too big at first, right?" I asked.
Troiann chuckled. "If you're lucky he's packing."
I cringed even more. I was going to die a virgin.
Troiann nudged me. "Hey, it isn't that bad. Look at it this way, if a woman can give birth to a seventeen inch baby, she can take a—"
"Troy!" I thought to cover my ears, I couldn't hear any more.
"Now there's something we can agree on." DeAndre was standing behind us, causing me to jump nervously. He had heard us?
Troiann scowled. "Eavesdropping much?"
DeAndre came in between us and draped his arms across our shoulders. "I can see why any guy could want you," he said to Troiann before turning to me and flashing a smile that made me feel uneasy. "It's Friday."
Oh no.
I moved out from under his arm. "Yes, the day before Saturday."
"And the day after Thursday," Troiann replied mirroring my motion.
"And the day of my bash, you coming through, Cree?" DeAndre asked.
"Probably not, I think there's a Love & Hip-Hop marathon on tonight."
DeAndre's grin did not falter. He wasn't giving up just yet. "TiVo it, I want you to come and have a good time tonight."
"I'm sure I'd have just as good of a time fussing over Stevie J."
DeAndre shook his head. "You shouldn't watch shows that make you dislike dudes more than you already do."
I gritted my teeth. I was not an irrational feminist. "I do not dislike dudes."
"Yeah—"
"Why don't you make that rat face Stevie makes? If you do it, we'll show up," Troiann interrupted.
DeAndre slowly shifted his gaze to Troy. "Why do I have a feeling there's some place you gotta be?"
They stood there, staring at each other for a minute or two, before just as oddly as the time in class, Troiann gave in.
She turned to me. "I'll call you later, 'bye."
I tried to let Troiann's departure distract DeAndre as I made a beeline for my locker, but as soon as I got to the door I found that he was right behind me.
Dammit.
Ignoring his presence as best as I could, I opened my locker and shelved my books and grabbed my duffle bag. I had time to head to the studio to put in some dance time after school and I wasn't going to miss it.
DeAndre crossed his arms and leaned against the locker next to mine. "What's in the bag, Cree?"
"Drugs," I said flatly as I decided to ignore all homework until Monday morning.
DeAndre chuckled. "And I thought we were starting off clean."
I sighed. "It's just my dance outfit."
One of DeAndre's brows perked up. "Oh you dance, like ballet and shit?"
I rolled my eyes. "Contemporary dancing, mostly to R&B and hip-hop."
"Word? Let me see you dance one day."
Even if he weren't serious, I said, "Sure."
My answer took DeAndre by surprise. "Not even nervous?"
I loved feeling people watching me move and become one with the rhythm. I loved the spotlight and the crowd's gasps and audible praise. I had done a few shows when I was younger, and shy wasn't in my vocabulary. "Not even a little."
"You must be good."
I shrugged and closed my locker. "I'm okay."
DeAndre rolled his eyes. " 'Okay'?"
"Modesty never hurt anyone, you know. What would you say about you and basketball?"
DeAndre stood from the locker, looking past me and eyeing Draya Young as she was heading down the hall. Draya was one of the pretty girls all the boys in our junior class gawked at, seniors too.
Really she was just a stuck-up bitch.
DeAndre looked to me as if he just remembered who I was and what he was up to. "I'm the shit at basketball."
He was according to everyone at Moorehead High and the city.
"Great." I walked past him, heading down to the first floor to head out to the bus, and of course DeAndre was right behind me.
"So you coming or what?" DeAndre asked.
"Why, so you can treat me like a piece of meat or worse, humiliate me in public again?" Why else would Mr. Balla want the likes of me at his party? I wasn't down to be smashed and dashed or embarrassed again by DeAndre's quick way with words. No thank you.
DeAndre smirked. "I don't know any other way to tell you I'm not attracted to you, it's almost like you want me to hurt your feelings. Besides, I was just trying to make up for class. Why you questioning me? It's just a party, Cree."
It was just a party; one Troiann would come along with to back me up if needed.
"I'll think about it," I said as I made my way across the student parking lot to the awaiting bus without looking back.
I was sweaty and all I wanted to do was head up to the bathroom and hit the shower as soon as I entered my house. Instead, I was greeted by Loraine in the foyer and the reality that my father wasn't home.
Gritting my teeth, I went to head past her and up the staircase, but Loraine surprised me by stepping in my route.
"Cree, what's up?" She smiled as she reached out and patted my shoulder. I hated that after two years she was still trying to win me over; it was not going to happen.
I shook my head. "Nothing, just going to shower."
"I hear the school's throwing a talent show."
Ugh. Here we go. I sighed and tugged on my duffle's strap. "Yeah, they keep trying to promote it, but I don't see it happening, no one's interested."
Loraine frowned. "Why not you? You've got plenty of talent, obviously." She stood back and gestured to my sweaty state via dancing. Did she really think being nice would make our relationship better? Sure, she was a young, gorgeous Halle Berry wannabe, great with kids and sweet to my father, but still, I wanted nothing to do with her.
"Dance is just recreation for me, nothing too serious, besides, Daddy would flip."
I went to move past her and again she stepped in my way. "Your father wants you happy, Cree, and I'm sure if you wanted to pursue dance he would be more than happy as long as you are."
I could've laughed, but I did her a favor and just kept it simple with a smirk. "Trust me, Loraine, we've had this discussion. It ain't happening."
Loraine pursed her lips, staring at me. "Fine, what are you up to tonight? I was thinking maybe we could..."
Oh hell no. Anything but that. Thinking on my toes, I brought up the only way out of the situation. "There's this party I was invited to, Troy wanted to go and you know how that goes."
Even if I were rejecting her initial plans, Loraine smiled with curiosity and excitement. "Oh really? Who invited you?"
For God's sake she was only twenty-eight, why did she have to go into Parent Mode with me? "DeAndre Parker, it's his party."
Her eyebrows shot towards the ceiling. "Darrel Parker's son? Ooh, you go, girl."
"Trust me; DeAndre does not see me like that. I'm—" A tired old, virgin. His words. Not mine. "Not 'it' for him."
Loraine waved me off. "Cree, you're way more put together than I was at your age. Now I was a late bloomer, you, you got it goin' on."
That was what relatives were supposed to say. If I really had it going on, I wouldn't be the only junior who had yet to find a boy actually interested in her and I wouldn't be the last standing virgin—okay, not that there weren't others out there, but for some reason I just couldn't get it out of my head about my lack of experience. And to think DeAndre heard me asking Troy questions like a child.
I cringed. I would never live that down.
"Thanks, Loraine."
"Okay." Loraine clapped her hands. "Go on and shower and let's get ready to go."
Lifting a brow, I asked, " 'Go'?"
Loraine nodded. "You got a party to get to and you need to look even more gorgeous than you already are."
Of course she wanted to turn my impromptu decision to go to DeAndre's party into a bonding experience via shopping.
I was going to say no, but looking at Loraine, Ms. Makeup Diva Extraordinaire, I knew she had a point. She had a great sense in fashion and she could do no wrong with what she picked out.
I hated to give in, but.... "Fine, but you're paying."
"Come on, Cree, get out of the car," Troiann tried to coax me as we sat in her car down the street from DeAndre's packed mansion. Music could be heard thumping from where we sat arguing in my postponing the inevitable.
"I look basic," I replied. Leave it to Loraine to pick out a beautiful lace pencil skirt that was entirely white. I might as well have painted a big red V on my chest. White was too pure and virginal, the harsh story of my life. At least my top was black.
Troiann clicked her tongue. "Some of us don't have a nice ass, you do, and if I have to drag you out of this car so you can show it off, I will."
Troiann had on a nice little navy blue dress, even if she didn't have a "nice" ass, she still looked flawless.
Feeling slightly better and encouraged, I opened the passenger door and got out of the car. The feeling of being weightless lasted all the way up to DeAndre's front door where I fought the urge to run and puke.
Troiann's familiar hand found mine as she opened the front door and walked me inside where a loud song by the-Dream blasted throughout the house. Unlike those teen drama clichés, no one noticed me as I stepped inside and was face first in DeAndre Parker's private world.
Troiann looked around at our surrounding peers and possibly DeAndre's neighbors and shrugged. "Eh, it's okay."
I loved my best friend. "Yeah, it's all right."
We were both lying; DeAndre's house was immaculate and quite large. I was almost positive our entire school could fit inside, population wise at least.
The perks of being a ball player's kid, no doubt.
Together Troiann and I headed towards the large kitchen to find something to drink. The place was abuzz with conversations trying to be heard over the music and people serving and mixing drinks at the bar. The patio doors' blinds were pulled back as the doors were open and showing a glimpse into the large backyard where a fire pit was setup. Peering closer I found that the Ballas were outside. The boys all stood around the fire, smoking cigars and looking like four kings, laughing about things we couldn't hear.
It was so easy to get lost staring at the façade of four gorgeous boys who were all about fun and wouldn't harm a fly, but the façade had its cracks and I knew better.
I turned away, only to find Troiann gone, leaving me by myself. Had it not have been for the fact that it wasn't my first party, I would've freaked out. Knowing I had my cell phone, I let the fact that Troiann had gone off on her own go and grabbed a soda and decided to explore Akron's little celeb's mansion.
There was no denying the beauty of DeAndre's house with all its high ceilings and large rooms filled with expensive things I would have to work my life away to afford. While I walked around DeAndre's place, admiring the décor and the upkeep, I had to admit I felt the feeling of something missing. I wasn't able to pinpoint what until I was standing in the hall where there were a few photos hung up on the wall. In all of the photos there was a shot of each of the Parker boys and their father. There were group photos, photos from outings and even a photo of DeAndre's eldest brother at his high school graduation standing next to their father. There was no sign of Mrs. Parker anywhere, the whole house seemed more like a bachelor's pad the more I stood and thought about it.
Through the glass windows on the sliding doors that led to the living room, I found DeAndre standing with Tremaine having some conversation. The longer I stared, the more it dawned on me, he was just like me. We both didn't have mothers.
Before I could stare any longer I felt myself nearly lose balance as someone bumped into me. Turning, I saw that it was Draya and a pack of her friends, all equally as pretty and as stuck-up.
"Watch it," Draya snapped.
"Excuse me, you bumped into me," I replied.
Draya lifted a brow, questioning my audacity to talk back. It was three against one, making me a little upset Troiann was nowhere to be seen. "Say what?"
Fight or flight, swing or flee. "You heard me; you should watch where you're going."
One of Draya's friends whispered something in her ear and she flat out laughed, at my expense no less. Either way, together they all carried on, leaving me standing by myself as they went into the kitchen to get more drinks probably.
I turned around and a gasp escaped my lips as I found that DeAndre was watching me. How did he manage to witness my most embarrassing moments?
I stepped back, accidentally bumping into the shelf behind me, sending something falling to the floor and breaking.
It was a trophy, a golden basketball was lying on ground, and the diamond encrusted silver basketball net it had once sat on was lying next to it.
"Oh shit," I sighed as I bent over to pick it up.
Two hands beat me to it and together they gathered the trophy and stood before I could. Naturally it was DeAndre.
He stood examining the two separated pieces.
"DeAndre I am so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going and—"
DeAndre shrugged. "It's okay, Cree."
I shook my head. "No, it's not. I'll get it fixed. I'll pay you. I'll do anything, I just—"
"Cree, it—anything?" DeAndre asked, a brow perked up.
"Well, not anything, but—"
DeAndre laughed. "Nah, we good. It was already broken to begin with."
"It was?"
He nodded. "Devonte's dumbass broke it when we were kids. He Superglued it together and it's been cool ever since, well, until now. Let's just go into my dad's office and see if we can fix it again, okay?"
I didn't argue as I followed him through his house and into the back office which was locked.
DeAndre entered the room and flipped a switch before going in search of some Superglue.
He found some in his father's desk and he then had me hold the trophy's base while he restored the ball on top of the net with the glue.
I took the opportunity to look around. On the wall hung a large dry-erase board, filled with running times. Gees, Mr. Parker had his kids time themselves when they ran?
"How often do you run?" I asked. From the looks of the board it was every day and every morning.
"Every morning at five, the goal is two miles, sometimes three or four," DeAndre replied.
I felt bad for him, obviously this wasn't his choice. "It must be a lot of pressure being Darrel Parker's son."
DeAndre squinted, studying me. "That's funny you say that."
"Why?"
"Usually people would say it must be dope being his son."
"I mean, I just figured there would be a lot of pressure to be as good as him or to live up to some standard, that's all." I shrugged and looked around more, finding more photos of the boys, and none of Mrs. Parker. "Where are the pictures of your mom?"
DeAndre focused on the trophy as he shrugged indifferently. "I don't have one. She left when I was three."
A feeling of being able to relate sliced through me, only, I had been the cause of my mother's leaving, but still, I knew what it was like. "I'm sorry."
DeAndre stared at me as I stared at him, and then he snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yo, we not about to have some heart to heart and cry over bullshit, Cree. It's whatever."
Having your mother walk out on you wasn't "whatever," it was everything. At least, it would've been to me.
I let it go. "No stepmom?"
DeAndre shook his head. "My father's got too much money to lose."
"I see." His father didn't trust women with his money and didn't want to risk losing any of it in a divorce. A lot of NBA players ended up losing big time when divorced. It was partially smart and partially sad that the Parker boys had no mother figure in their lives.
"There," DeAndre said as he set the trophy aside. "I'll let it dry. Come on; let's head back to the party."
He came and wrapped an arm across my shoulders and led me back out to his party. Soon, we were in the entertainment room where the music blasted the loudest and people migrated to the most.
I went and sat on the couch and crossed my arms, trying my best not to text Troiann and beg her to take me home, as I took in the atmosphere.
DeAndre came and sat next to me, going and resting his arms across the back of the couch. "You say you dance, why don't you get on up and show me somethin'?"
And have him look even more like a king than he already did? "No thank you." I went and scooted away, only to have DeAndre scoot closer. "Why don't you go and put the moves on some other girl?"
"Who says I'm putting the moves on you?"
"Why else would you be all up on me and not giving me space. I don't fall for guys like you and your friends, DeAndre, so give it up."
DeAndre looked like he wanted to say something, but then he stopped and looked around, mumbling something to himself before turning back to me, scanning me over quickly.
"Let me tell you something, baby," he said, moving some of my hair behind my ear, "my dude is fuckin' ya friend, so I don't know why you act like you're not the only one not down with the Club, 'cause you are."
No. "You're lying."
DeAndre shook his head. "Nah, go and ask her, she and Marcus been getting it in for a minute." He looked past me and nodded. "Matter of fact, take a look and see for yourself."
I followed his gaze and to my horror, across the room stood Troiann...with Marcus. He had his hand on her hip and he was making her smile and laugh and I could just tell by the way she was leaning into him that it wasn't their first interaction.
My best friend was involved with a Balla.
My mouth fell open as denial evaded me.
I took out my phone and texted Troiann.
Troiann was laughing and paying no attention to the phone in the little clutch she had in her hands.
Shit.
DeAndre was watching and gauging my reaction to the scene before me. "Told you, so stop with the attitude and just chill."
I could've told myself that Troiann was just talking to Marcus, but then it all fell into place. At After Hours DeAndre had warned me, saying he knew something my eyes weren't ready to see and here it was my best friend had been messing around with the enemy for who knew how long.
Sure, Marcus and the boys were beyond cute, but still, they broke hearts for a living, how could she?
And what was worse, it seemed for the millionth time DeAndre has seen me mortified.
I swallowed my pride and put on a brave face. Even if Troiann had fallen into their web, there was no way I was going to follow suit.
I looked at DeAndre and sneered. "You're acting like this whole getting me to join the team is going to be easy."
The corner of DeAndre's mouth turned up. "Well it won't be hard."
I looked at the crotch of his pants. "I bet it won't be."
He chuckled, leaning over and throwing an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "This is not about my dick and what I can do with it." DeAndre looked at the people among us and shrugged. "Trust me, Cree, I don't want the cake. I invited you to my crib and party to—"
"To try to hook up with me, and trust me, DeAndre, it ain't gonna work."
DeAndre shook his head and rolled his eyes, gesturing across the room at some girl in a bustier and a high waist skirt that hugged every aspect of her curves. "See that, now that's a bad bitch, and by the end of the night, she's going upstairs with me. I invited you here to kick it, Cree, trust me, you're not my type. You're not my chase. So just chill and relax." Without saying more, DeAndre stood and walked away, leaving me no choice but to watch him go and converse with the girl dressed for sex.
In seconds he had her acting all girly and giggling, hooked.
I couldn't fight the feeling of being alone and looking pathetic for assuming that DeAndre saw something in a girl like me. Who was I kidding? I was not his type by far. He had told me countless times since our first initial interaction and somehow I'd gotten brazen enough to challenge him as if I were.
Just like in class, just like at the club, I stood, ready to sulk and head home.
Troiann was by herself when I found her standing by the Parkers' extensive DVD and video game collection.
I tapped her shoulder. "Troy, can we go?"
Troiann looked at me, but not before searching around us. "What's wrong?"
I looked at my supposed best friend, unable to believe she could keep such a secret from me. I didn't want to get into it, I just wanted to go home and fall into bed and work it all off with some dancing in the morning before work.
I put on a mask and pretended, just like how Troiann pretended to be against the Ballas' Club. "Nothing, I'm just sick of seeing these pathetic Tackle Bunnies fuss over guys like Marcus and Tremaine, it's sad, Troy. Let's just get out of here."