Better Together, page 6
She looks like she hopped out of a magazine, yet she’s telling me not to be intimidated.
“Look at me, dear,” she says while holding my shoulder and lifting my chin. “You can pull off anything if you’re confident. You are beautiful and don’t let anyone steal your shine.”
She looks down at my feet. “What size shoes do you wear?”
I’m ashamed to say because her feet look tiny. “A nine,” I whisper.
“Stay right here,” Whitney goes behind the counter, and reaches under a desk, pulling out a shoebox. “I’d bought these for my niece, but she went out and bought herself a bunch of shoes. They’re a 8 ½. See if you can wear them. They’d match perfectly with what you have on and they’re great for all-day wear.”
I look at the shoes in the box. They’re hot pink Chucks. Cute, but I don’t know how I feel about hot pink.
As though Whitney has read my mind, she says. “Trust me honey, they’ll work. Try them on. Hurry, class is going to start soon.”
I quickly put on the shoes while Whitney places my old tennis shoes in the shoebox. She then takes off her necklace and puts it around my neck. “Perfect,” she says. “You were adorable before but now you’re fabulous. Go get ‘em girl!”
She pushes me out of the office and into the hallway.
I gulp. I’d told JJ not to wait for me, but I wish I hadn’t said that. I feel lost without him.
12
Reel it In
~Jonah
I found myself sneaking glances at Clove as we walked to school. The image of her in those slim-fitting jeans keep resurfacing.
I shake my head clear. Focus Jonah. I glance at my schedule again. Let’s see, 209C. I search for the stairs. There are hall monitors every few feet that are dressed up more than anyone else. The guy that greeted us when we came in, extends his hand to me.
“Hello, I’m Ray, Student Body President. You must be one of the new students?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Ray sort of laughs. “Yes, our school does not get many transfers which is rare since Las Vegas is a transient city. But many people stay if they can because this is a really good school. Most of us have been here since kindergarten. So you must be…” he pauses for me to say my name.
“Jonah,” I fill in the blank.
“Right,” he says as if he were a school teacher making sure I knew the answer. “Okay, now that introductions are over. Where is your first class? Do you need any help getting there?”
I show him my sheet, although I think it’s self-explanatory.
Ray takes my sheet. “Ah, so this is the tricky part. The floor we’re on is the second floor. Downstairs is what we call the dungeon but is really the first floor and upstairs is the third floor. The 4th floor is on the roof where you’ll have your night astronomy classes. But you do know that class won’t start until October, right?”
“Yes, I know.” When I saw that I could take Astronomy as a senior, I almost peed my pants.
“Cool, well looks like you got it. We have lunch together so I’ll see you then. We don’t have a cafeteria by the way. There’s indoor and outdoor seating, but most people eat inside since it’s so hot outside. Unless it’s like October or something, then you can eat outside because the weather feels much better.”
The bell rings and I don’t know if that means I’m late or it was a warning. Ray keeps talking so maybe I’m not late. However, several people scurry around us.
Ray continues talking about the school while picking up his clipboard to write something down. “We are not allowed to go off campus for lunch or order take-out, but the cafe has good food. The elementary building is the only one that does have a cafeteria, just because little kids aren’t responsible with money. Anyway, the cafe is not fully stocked yet so I hope you brought your lunch.”
Is he doing this on purpose? Is he trying to make me late and get me in trouble on the first day? I don’t want to be rude, but I need to go.
“Here,” Ray hands me a pink paper.
It says HALL PASS on top and then in his handwriting, he wrote, Sorry Mrs. Wilson, I talked to him too long.
“I have the gift of gab,” Ray continues. “My parents should have named me Gabriel. I don’t know where they got Raymond from. Probably because–”
“Thanks man,” I interrupt him. We absolutely cannot start another conversation. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
I begin walking down the hall but I can still hear Ray talking to me. “Okay. Sorry for talking so much. If you need help, I will be here after the first class too. I’m out here all day, pretty much. It’s crazy. Go left,” he tells me. We are further away but he’s still talking.
“Make a right. Yep. Mrs. Wilson is nice. She’ll under–”
I go into the classroom and shut the door. Wow. I’m glad he was nice enough to write me a pass, but he might need to learn how to reel it in some.
13
Obnoxious
~Clove
I’ve been up and down the hallway of the first floor but can’t find my Creative writing class. “Excuse me. Can you show me how to get to 1-D? ” I ask a tall, curly-headed girl in the hallway. Her name tag says Kady.
Kady turns around and pops a big pink bubble in my face. “Yup,” she eyes me up and down, then moves her medium-sized spiral curls out of her face. Her hair does what I wish mine did; curl perfectly. It’s ombre; dark brown at the roots and blonde on the ends. If she stretched a curl it’d be down to her butt.
Kady also has super long eyelashes. Those can’t be real. Can she even see? The bubble gum she pops is the same shade as her lipstick. Her black and white striped heels are ridiculously high for school, yet very fashionable. They go well with her cropped hot pink blazer that she wears over a bright yellow dress. Everything about her is eye-catching as though she’s ready for the runway. Clearly, I missed the memo on the school dress code.
If all the girls dress like this, JJ is sure to pay more attention to them.
She smacks on her gum. " Statistics, right?”
“No, Creative Writing.”
Kady frowns. “Oh. They must have moved it. Whatever, I’ll show you where it’s at.”
She leads me down a set of stairs then extends her hand in front of a turquoise door as if she’s Vanna White. “Here you are.”
I notice her nails that are well-designed and probably acrylic or gel.
I look down at my own hands, noticing how different they are from her smooth, even-toned skin. I also see that I’m a little ashy.
Kady reaches into her pocket and tosses me a small bottle of lotion. “You can give that back to me later.” She blows another bubble and sashays away.
“Thanks,” I say to her back. I put the lotion on my hands before entering class which was a bad idea because now I can’t open the door. It slips from my hand with every turn of the knob.
“Here let me help you with that,” a voice says.
Another girl who doesn’t wear a ton of makeup or an over the top nail job stands behind me. She wears huge gold-hooped earrings. Instead of high heels, she wears….hmmm. I don’t know what those are. Vans? This girl’s hair is black, long, thick, and wavy, but stops at her shoulders.
“I see you’ve met Queen Kady,” she nods her head in the high-heeled girl’s direction. “She’s one of the Barbie’s. You’ll notice quite a few of them around school.”
Barbie is an accurate description. Up until now, I thought I’d have to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe. It’s good to see that some people know how to tone it down.
This girl reaches into her shoulder bag and pulls out a small bottle of hand sanitizer that she drops onto a tissue to turn the knob. That was smart. Why didn’t I think of that?
“I’m Rosario,” she tells me.
“I’m Clove.”
“Cool name, Clove. Ready to conquer this Writing class?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
****
Rosario and I have the first three classes together, including third period with JJ. He’s already sitting in class when we walk in. His eyebrows arch when he sees me and I give a small wave.
“You know him?” Rosario whispers to me.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“He’s cute.”
She takes the seat next to him. Dang. I was going to sit there. The other seat next to him is already taken by a guy with pierced ears and curly fade. Another girl sits behind JJ so I quickly take the seat in front of him before anyone else can.
“What happened to Hispanic Lit?” he whispers over my shoulder.
I turn my head to the side so he can hear me. “It got canceled so I was placed in here.”
“Lucky me,” he whispers. I press my lips together to help the warmth that I feel in my cheeks again.
Our teacher walks into the room. He’s a tall, lean, African American guy with glasses that looks like he could be about my dad’s age. Ten seconds later, the bell sounds and he shuts the door. He writes his name on the board; Dr. Aart. He immediately goes over class rules.
“My class is an open forum. We will discuss literature and your points of view on the written work. Curse words are not allowed. A man who cannot control his tongue and his temper is a man who needs to seek wisdom. Same for the women. You will address me as Dr. Aart, not fart, not At, not anything else. In turn, I will address you by Mister or Miss followed by your last name. You will be on time for my class because early is on time and on time is late. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s begin. Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin. Does everyone have it?”
Oh shoot. I’d already downloaded the books for Hispanic Lit. I don’t have the book I need for this class. I slowly raise my hand. Mr. Aart looks at me with a very tiny smile. “Yes, Miss…please identify yourself.”
“Clove Daniels,” I begin. “Mr. Aart, sir–”
“Dr. Aart,” he corrects me.
I feel like shrinking down in my seat. “Sorry, Dr. Aart. I was just enrolled in this class this morning. I don’t have the book yet.”
Dr. Aart turns, reaches inside his desk and hands me a weathered copy of the book.
“Thank you,” I reply.
The guy next to JJ with pierced ears raises his hand too. “Dr. Aart, I ain’t got the book either.”
Dr. Aart frowns. “You mean you don’t have the book. And why not Mr. Mitchell? You received the syllabus did you not?”
“I did,” he says.
“Then what’s the problem?”
The Mitchell guy leans forward in his seat. “Can I see your book sweetheart?”
Sweetheart? Is he talking to me? He’s looking at me, so I guess he is. I hand him the book Dr. Aart loaned me.
He flips through it. “I have a problem with what we’re reading. See, this is African American Lit. Why we readin’ a book called Black Like Me when the guy who wrote it ain’t–I mean isn’t- black?”
Dr. Aart’s mouth turns upward as though he finds this funny. “What book should we be reading Mr. Mitchell?”
The whole class turns to look at him, myself included. He’s challenging a teacher on the first day? Bold.
Mr. Mitchell shifts in his seat but doesn’t seem bothered by being the center of attention. “Malcolm X, Native Son, Assata, Ta Nehisi Coates or any books by James Baldwin woulda been good.”
Dr. Aart rubs his chin and peers at the guy through his glasses. “Mr. Mitchell have you read any of the books you mentioned or are you just trying to impress the class?”
The Mitchell guy shifts in his seat but doesn’t offer a response.
“I thought so,” Dr. Art says. “If you’d read the syllabus in its entirety, you’d know that we will be reading some of those books on our list. However, I need you to trust me on this one. It’s not the author, but the content that matters. But since you’ve wasted about three minutes of my time, please read the Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey and write a ten-page report on it by Labor Day. I look forward to reading it.”
“That’s messed up Dr. Art. I can’t read another book in two weeks,” Mitchell exclaims.
“Then I suggest next time, you trust my choices. As for the rest of the class, I’m going to give you seven minutes to dive into the first entry of Mr. John Griffin’s book.” Dr. Aart looks around his desk. “I seem to have left my coffee in the lounge. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Dr. Aart leaves the room, the Mitchell guy starts cursing.
“Calm down, Brandon,” Rosario says to him. “It’s a book, not a shot. Just read it.”
Now I know his first name is Brandon.
“Sooo… Brandon, can I get my book back please?” I ask him.
“Fa’sho sweetie.” While handing the book back to me, he holds onto it a little longer than necessary.
“I think I’ve seen you before,” he says.
I snatch my book. “Not possible.”
As I begin to read the first line, I can feel Brandon still staring at me like he’s trying to burn a hole in the side of my face.
“Can I help you with something?”
I probably shouldn’t have asked, because more than likely I set it up for him to ask me about my vitiligo.
JJ taps me on the shoulder. “May I borrow your highlighter?”
“Ay white boy,” Brandon says turning his attention to JJ. “Ain’t you in the wrong class?”
“I’m in the right class,” JJ answers.
“Really? Why would someone like you be in this class? You wanna know how to be black like this Griffin guy?”
I don’t know Brandon very well, but he’s already on my last nerve for being obnoxious. He knows nothing about JJ or his heritage. “What makes you think he’s white?” I ask getting defensive.
“Clove. Highlighter,” JJ reminds me. I know he’s just asking for a highlighter as a diversion to this jerk sitting beside him. I let the situation go and rummage through my backpack for a highlighter.
“Thanks,” JJ says as I hand it to him.
I watch Brandon take out his phone and scroll through pictures while slouching in his seat. I thought Whitney said our phones have to stay locked up. Whatever. I resume reading but then from the corner of my eye, I see a photo that catches my attention. Before I can do a double take, Dr. Aart walks back into the room and Brandon quickly puts his phone back in his pocket.
14
Big Picture
~Jonah
I was watching as Brandon scrolled through his phone and I could’ve sworn that I saw a picture of Clove. It was the same picture of her and that Benjamin guy that I saw on her phone.
I tried reading the entry we were assigned three times but couldn’t grasp what I read. My head was swarming with thoughts and questions. How did Pierced Ears guy get a picture of Clove and that dude? Why is he keeping it on his phone? Are there more pictures? Did Clove see it?
“Wanna walk with me to lunch?” Clove asks.
I look at the clock above Dr. Aart’s desk and realize I’ve been in a daze for the majority of class. People are packing up to leave. What is wrong with me? I’ve never zoned out in class like that before.
I look towards the door, watching the guy with the photo. He’s the one with the answers to my questions, but he was sort of a jerk. I’m not going to go chasing after someone who’s disrespectful.
A girl with tan skin and dark wavy hair stands next to Clove. She gives me a slow once-over, starting with my eyes down to my feet and then back to my eyes. She’s cute—or maybe more than cute.
“I’m Rosario,” she says while extending her hand to me.
“Jonah,” I say giving her my hand to shake. Clove leans back as our hands cross over her. She looks at me with raised eyebrows. I didn’t mean to cross over her like that.
“I’ll show you two where the café is and where me and my friends like to eat,” the cute girl says. I can’t remember her name but she walks between Clove and me. I think about telling Clove about the picture but perhaps now wouldn’t be a good time.
“Thanks for showing me around, Rosario,” Clove says. “This school is bigger and much nicer than our old school.”
Rosario. That’s her name. Her shoes have red rose prints on them. I try to somehow make her name stick in my head by association with her shoes.
We pass by the café that the hall monitor told me about earlier. There are quite a few people in line and regrettably, I’m going to have to join them because I forgot my lunch. I was too busy trying to get myself ready and help Mom with Caleb.
“You two go ahead, I need to get something to eat,” I tell Clove and Rosario.
They continue walking but Rosario turns around and watches me while walking backwards. She smiles coyly then turns back around.
Things are certainly different for me this year. I don’t think I’ve ever had a girl look at me quite like that.
Inside the café, there’s not much to choose from because they’re still stocking. I buy an apple and some chips. Next, I examine the open area around the café. It’s set up like a coffee shop almost. Bar top tables, booths, raised desks against the windows with charging stations. I feel like I’ve stepped into Oz.
I see Clove sitting with Rosario and some other girls with so much makeup on they might actually be on a reality show right now. Clove motions for me to come sit with her. I’m happy that she’s found some friends but I don’t want to sit with a bunch of girls.
The talkative hall monitor waves me over to his table. I hesitate as I notice he’s sitting next to the ignoramus with the pierced ears but maybe if I’m quiet I can find out what’s up with him having that photo.
“We were just talking about the Senior party tomorrow night,” Ray says as I walk up. He’s still wearing his name tag from this morning. “Did you get your invite yet?” he asks.
I’m not sure what he’s talking about so I shake my head no. “We just got in town yesterday. Haven’t checked my mail.”
Ray bites his sandwich then talks with his mouth full. “Where’d you move from?”
