Turning Point, page 11
Big FAX!
Rah-Rah:
Did somebody say u were fat? One of the sweet mates? .
Mo’Betta:
If somebody had called me fat u woulda seen me on the news by now cause I woulda had put paws on ’em
Rah-Rah:
I know thas right
Rasheeda
Sheeda hated picking sides. It made her uncomfortable to have people mad at her. Little arguments turned into big fights all the time just because somebody said one thing that made another person mad. Saying nothing was easier.
But time wasn’t moving. She would have sworn ten minutes had gone past while she laid on her bed deciding if there was a show she could watch by herself. Then she’d looked up and it had been two whole minutes. Two.
She scrolled through the endless lists of shows. Comedy. Drama. Too many choices. Her aunt had just started unblocking certain things she could watch. So Sheeda didn’t want to go crazy picking out something too wild that would put the lock back on most everything.
Auntie D was against Straight and Narrow until she’d watched an episode with Sheeda and saw that it was about the girls’ road to getting back into a regular high school outside of lockup. Only thing was the girls cursed. A lot. Auntie D’s face had gone from “Oh” shock to deep frowned disapproval.
“Why in the world are the guards letting these little girls cuss at them?” she’d said, arms folded like she would have snatched one of the girls up if they weren’t.
“Auntie, they’re literally in jail for teenagers for stuff like robbery and assault. I don’t think the guards care about curse words.”
Her aunt had looked at her like she was seeing Sheeda for the first time. She’d stood up and proclaimed, “If watching this reminds you what trouble can get you, then fine. But they all need Jesus,” before walking out, no longer interested in the curse words assaulting her ears.
Nobody had posted anything in the chat about Straight and Narrow in a while. Either nobody but her was watching it (probably) or they didn’t feel like talking about it. She dropped a message into each chat, trying to get a conversation started.
Into Bap Girls Do chat:
Dumb question but what do people do all day over the summer? I’m sooo bored. BTW do y’all watch Straight & Narrow? That’s my show.
Into the Squaaad chat:
Anybody wanna watch S&N w/me? Only if you already up to season 3
Into the Caping for da Cove chat:
Are we even using this chat anymore? Hello, Chrissy? Chris? Simp?
She wanted to DM Lennie. So far every time they talked, he’d hit her up first. She didn’t want to jinx it. Plus, she had no idea what to talk about. But what if he were waiting on her? Sort of like a test. Did boys do that?
Real nice having friends to ask. Not. She rolled her eyes at the empty chats.
She pulled out a pen and small notepad in the shape of a round kitty face, and laid across her bed on her stomach.
She wrote out: Things to Talk About with L.
She’d almost written out his name. She would throw the list away. Still, she couldn’t be too careful.
The blank paper beckoned her to write something.
She wrote: Us.
Scratched it out. Then wrote:
* What’s your favorite color?
* What’s your favorite food?
* How come you don’t hang out at the rec? (wait, did I already ask him that?!)
* How come you like me?
She scooped her phone up, excited when a few soft dings chimed.
We have a winner.
Bap Girls Do.
Yo-la:
I’m over my grandmothers down at the lake w/my cousins. They coming to the retreat this year.
Rah-Rah:
You not gonna be at praise dance tonight?
Yo-la:
I be there. My grandmother just down the street from First Bap. So what u usually do?
Rah-Rah:
Field trips and hang out at the rec
Yo-la:
So do that.
Rah-Rah:
nobody to hang w/this year
Yo-la:
Ask Kita. She not doing nothing
Yikes. Yola and Kita were still seriously beefing. She dropped the phone like Yola’s shade was hot, glad when a new message popped in.
It was Lennie.
What up?
Rah-Rah:
Bored.To.Death.
DatBoyEll:
Come see me.
Rah-Rah:
Umm. See you see you?
DatBoyEll:
Hit me w/da double see you. Yeah like, at my house see me.
Rah-Rah:
I can’t.
DatBoyEll:
Your aunt home?
Rah-Rah:
No. But I’m the world’s worst liar. She’d see it on my face that I did something. LoL I be all at praise dance tonight needing to pray
DatBoyEll:
LoL wow. Ok.
Rah-Rah:
Sorry
DatBoyEll:
Nah u good. U ever ask ur aunt bout letting u kick it at Cove Days?
Rah-Rah:
Not yet.
DatBoyEll:
All she can say is no.
Rah-Rah:
I know. I gotta time it tho. Imma ask.
DatBoyEll:
Kind of wack if I gotta wait til my sister get home see u tho.
Rah-Rah:
I’ll def be at the Cove Days basketball tournament. Will you be there?
DatBoyEll:
I will now
Rah-Rah:
DatBoyEll:
So like what y’all be doing at church that u there every day?
Rah-Rah:
lol I sing and dance. And then u know like bible study and youth.
DatBoyEll:
Oh u double threat? You good?
Rah-Rah:
Church good
DatBoyEll:
I haven’t been to church since I was little
Rah-Rah:
Mo be going w/me sometimes
DatBoyEll:
I know.
Rah-Rah:
You should come w/us one time.
DatBoyEll:
I’m good. lol
Rah-Rah:
Right. I don’t blame u. We have fun sometimes though.
DatBoyEll:
Still good over here.
Rah-Rah:
just wrong
DatBoyEll:
If I go church that mean ur aunt let me holler at you?
Rah-Rah:
Nope.
DatBoyEll:
Oh. Yeah I’m way good over here
Rah-Rah:
Speaking of needing permission tho I feel like Mo would be mad if she knew we was . . . talking. I mean she know we’ve talked but still talking. Like you know.
DatBoyEll:
She be alright
Sheeda didn’t push it. She didn’t agree, either. Lennie veered off into talk about how he and his cousin, Quan, were trying to earn enough money to get into a Crown Battle tournament. How they went to gaming arcades and played people for money. It was how he’d paid for Mo’s pointe shoes. She was twirling on a cloud when he revealed even Mo didn’t know how he’d earned the money.
It felt right to tell him a secret, too. But why would he care about the drama between Kita and Yola? And that was all she had since he was her only secret worth keeping.
She didn’t realize she’d spent the entire day chatting with him, while watching her show and throwing her praise dance practice leggings in the wash (thank goodness she remembered), until her aunt’s keys jingled in the door.
OMGoodness It’s already 5?! I GTG my aunt home.
She ripped the leggings out of the dryer and was regretting putting them on fresh, the cotton scorching her legs, when her aunt stood in her doorway.
“Ready for dance, Luvvie?” she asked.
Sheeda perked up at the nickname. Auntie D was in a good mood. She smiled, like her legs weren’t burning and she’d been dressed for hours. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Let me change and then I’m ready,” her aunt said.
Sheeda texted Lennie quickly:
call 911 I think I got 3rd degree burn from putting on these leggings straight from the dryer!
DatBoyEll:
LMAO I do want see u in leggings doe
Not knowing how to respond, Sheeda left it. She read the message several times before meeting her aunt in the car, enjoying how it made her feel. Nobody had ever wanted to see her in anything specific. And it was only recently that her dresses didn’t cover every inch of her body anyway. Auntie D read Sheeda’s good mood.
“Praise His name. Somebody happy to be going to praise dance tonight.”
Sheeda couldn’t help the smile on her lips. She told the thing closest to the truth. “I’m in a good mood today.”
“Understandable. You ready to dance for the Lord.”
Sheeda changed the subject to avoid the guilt that would settle in if she had to keep pretending she was happy because she was heading to rehearsal. “I hope Yola and Kita make up soon.”
Auntie D’s forehead furrowed. “Make up from what?”
“They’re just not getting along,” Sheeda said, refusing to snitch details.
“Lord. What now?” Her aunt’s eyes rolled. “Don’t you get in the middle of any nonsense, please.”
Sheeda felt like saying, How can I not when we’re always together now? Before the conversation could suck the joy out of her, she nodded her obedience and changed subjects once more. “What age is right to date?”
Asking the question was like seeing how close to the edge of a cliff you could stand before your foot dangled over nothing but air. She was shocked when her aunt smiled and hit her with a witty, “For you, no years old.”
After a few minutes, Auntie D pressed on. “Which one of these little boys you call yourself liking?”
Sheeda stopped herself from laughing aloud. Hello, none of them First Bap boys, for sure.
“Nobody. But Yo—” She was really about to talk about Yola and Jalen. She eased away without hesitation. “You used to say when I was eighteen. That was a joke, right?”
“Mostly a joke. Yes.” Her aunt’s easy laugh was something Sheeda knew existed but rarely saw these days. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and a thin edge of concern frosted her words—not quite a sermon but close. “I guess you think going into high school means you’re grown. Trust me, you’re not even close. You have plenty time for dating, Rasheeda. Focus on your ministries for now.”
The question that was on the edge of her tongue—Why can’t I focus on my ministries and like somebody?—she knew better than to ask. Especially since Auntie D had gone from Luvvie back to using her real name, which was the period at the end of her sentence like Sheeda wouldn’t know who the words were meant for without her name attached. It was best to let Auntie D believe that being at church or in church somehow was a shield that stopped her from liking a boy.
Instead, she texted Mo:
One week down! Miss you like chocolate miss peanut butter
Her heart leaped when Mo hit her back:
help! These white girls got me watching some movie about a dog trying find his way back home.
Rah-Rah:
did somebody die yet? Somebody always die in movies with a dog. Lol
Mo:
Ugh ew. You right!
Sheeda let Mo narrate the movie and was only tempted once to ask for her advice about Lennie. Luckily, by the time her fingers almost slipped to text, she was in church. Saved by the cross.
Monique
“We gon’ have a par-tee,” Mo sang at the top of her lungs.
“We gon’ get it pop-inn,” Mila sang in return.
Right on cue, they belted out, “We ain’t gotta do SSSHHHHH,” two junior librarians shutting down their own jam. It was more fun to make the explosive shushing sound than it was to use the lyric’s curse word.
The song played on without their assistance as they tried to out shush each other. The joke never got old.
Mo sang along again under her breath, “That’s my jam.”
Without a pause, the song started over.
“Ayyy,” they said in unison, like somebody besides Mila had rewarded them with the replay.
In celebration of having free time, their room was festive. The music pumped life into the space, bass beating like a heart. They laughed at everything. Just happy to be in the room together after a week of being two trains passing and tooting at each other.
It was finally Sunday. They were going to see a special production of Giselle. Mo hadn’t ever watched a classical ballet; now, she’d seen five. Once a month they watched and then discussed a different ballet or modern dance production at TAG sessions. She still wasn’t totally used to how they didn’t talk in a ballet. She had fallen asleep on Romeo and Juliet. Couldn’t understand why a story about kids committing suicide was even a thing, much less a whole ballet.
Eventually she began to understand how the story was told through the dancing. Some of the ballets were still kind of boring. But she was hyped for Giselle. Who wouldn’t be down for a love story where a bunch of bitter chicks come back from the dead to haunt a dude for his dirt?
At this point, she didn’t care where they were going as long as her feet got a break. It was a welcome change in the routine. By Friday she’d felt like she was carrying bricks on her shoulders. It had gotten harder and harder to get up every day and keep it pushing. Not to mention every part of her body was sore. Anytime your pinky toe ached, you know it’s bad.
She had almost faked sick to skip Saturday’s class. The screaming in her thighs was only part of it. Every day she felt a little less sure of herself. Doubt crept in so deep she’d waited until Mila fell asleep Saturday night and texted her mother.
Moodles:
Hey mommy. You at work?
Mom-E:
Yeah Boo. Caught me on my break though. Isn’t it lights out? Everything okay?
Moodles:
As long as we in our room by curfew nobody really be making sure our lights out.
Mom-E:
Oh okay. How’s my baby girl?
Moodles:
Mom-E:
Uh-oh. What’s wrong? You homesick, babe?
Moodles:
No. A little bit. Not sure I like ballet as much as I thought.
Mom-E:
Why? B/c it’s hard? Lol
Moodles:
Yeah that. lol I be feeling so out of place here. Even Bean fit in better than me.
Mom-E:
Because . . .
Moodles:
She just do, ma.
Mom-E:
I can’t help if you don’t say what you mean, Monique. Why does she fit in better?
Moodles:
She catch on faster. She a stronger dancer than me. I mean IDK. all that. I thought dance was just dance but everybody here love ballet. It’s different.
Mom-E:
Wishing they had hip-hop or jazz?
Moodles:
We do a little jazz. But its white jazz
Mom-E:
What’s white jazz, babe?
Moodles:
Like broadway play music. It’s wack. It’s not that tho. I wanna do good but everybody know more than me. Even Bean.
Mom-E:
You have to stop comparing yourself. I’ve seen yall two dance side by side. You’re just as beautiful a dancer, baby girl. The whole point of this was for you to work on things that need work and come out the other side stronger. You can’t come in and slay everything.
Moodles:
I guess
Mom-E:
And I KNOW
Moodles:
LOL naw, you right
Mom-E:
As always
Moodles:
You tripping, Ma
Mom-E:
If it was easy everybody would do it. Enjoy this experience. Don’t beat yourself up over not being the best dancer there. Okay?
Moodles:
Okay
Mom-E:
Love you
Moodles:
Love you too
By the end of the conversation, Mo’s pillow was drenched from tears. She’d sniffled quietly, not wanting to wake up Mila. She couldn’t take being consoled. It would have broken her. Her mother’s words had cooled the growing anxiety gnawing at her heart.
She felt brand-new today. Tired, for sure. But whole again.
Every day felt like two at Ballet America. If anybody had told her that she would have already exchanged socials and phone numbers with a tall skinny girl from Jersey and a petite shorty from Connecticut, she would have laughed right in their face.
But there she was on Brenna’s FriendMe page, Brenna hugging her waist and Mo’s face frozen in a smile, eyes cast down looking at the human clinging to her—Brenna had squeezed like she’d float away if she loosened her grip. The caption was already their inside joke: Mo like woah wake me up b4 u go go.
The other day, she hadn’t heard Katie and Mila say they were heading to dinner or their instructions for her to wait on Brenna. Bathroom time was her own, and Mo always made it last. All she knew was when she came out, Mila and Katie were gone. Panicking, she’d thrown on shorts and booked it. Her heart had pounded as she walk-ran to the cafeteria like somebody was chasing her. When she arrived at the table, out of breath, Mila looked up and around her, confused.
“Where’s Brenna?”
“I know this why?” Mo had asked, gulping air.
“Because when we left, we told you to wait for her,” Katie said, her duh left unsaid.
Brenna showed up ten minutes later looking as harried as Mo. There were jokes about Mo looking like the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland in between Brenna’s “Dude, why’d you leave me?”
Mo took it. She knew she’d been shook, for real, because when she thought they’d all left her behind, instead of being angry, she’d been scared. The cafeteria was a five-minute walk from their dorm, on a sidewalk that was lined with full trees and usually with people—college students there for the summer. It was probably one of the safest places in the world. But the trees and quiet always closed in on her. Even when she was walking with other people, she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder making sure nobody popped out from behind a bush. When they teased her a minute too long, she finally admitted she felt safer in the hood than she did there on campus.
