Turning Point, page 13
“I haven’t really done any work,” Sheeda mumbled. The soft pressure of her aunt’s touch made her eyes well. She wanted to stay angry but couldn’t. It had been too long since they’d been on the same side. She wanted to throw herself into her aunt’s arms. Feel the closeness they’d had when she’d first moved in.
“Singing in the choir, dancing beautifully, and taking part in discussions at Bible study is your work, Rasheeda.” Auntie D led her to the table. The open boxes made a small fort around their chairs. “Can you at least remember one Scripture for me?”
She waited for Sheeda’s nod of consent before going on. “‘Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Heavenly lights.’ That’s James chapter one, verse seventeen. You give your talents at church and that’s your work.” She rubbed Sheeda’s knee, easing the blow of her denial. “It wouldn’t be a big deal to let you miss one year of VBS. I’m not going to, though.” She let that sink in, giving Sheeda a chance to object. When she didn’t, “All school year I work with your schedule. But it’s summer, and you have no reason to miss this or anything else. More importantly, you have two more weeks before Monique gets back. Use this time to get involved at the church without the chip on your shoulder.”
Sheeda was pricked by the truth. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder.”
“Yes, you do.” Her aunt’s laugh was surprisingly light. “And only you can fix your heart about that, Luv. I’m saying that God has given you a few weeks without your best friend. I bet she’s using the time to enjoy herself. You should do the same.” She was back on task at her box. “Tell Tai you’ll see her at the basketball games this weekend.”
It was a weak second prize. She’d always been allowed to go to the basketball tournaments held at the end of Cove Days, mainly because VBS wore her aunt so much she was too tired to control Sheeda’s schedule that day.
Without thinking, she sighed, “Okay.”
Thankfully, Auntie D ignored it. “Come on. We’ve got to get there early and get this food put away.”
They made quick work of the packing and were at the church before anyone else. It always made Sheeda feel weird to pull up and see no cars at the church, like maybe they’d shown up on the wrong day. She could tell her aunt loved it. Anytime they went into the church after or before hours, she made a production of it—jangling the church keys more than necessary and signing her name in the logbook in huge cursive letters that took up more than one log-in space. No way to miss she’d been there, and that was the point.
Her aunt was kitchen manager and head of the children’s ministries. Sometimes, if someone forgot to lock up, they’d call her and she’d have to come turn on the security system. She always grumbled like it made her mad, but Sheeda knew she enjoyed it. Only five people had keys and the church’s security code. Better believe Auntie D being one of them was a big deal.
She ran the kitchen like she ran her household—everything had its place, and a terse memo went out anytime that little policy was violated. Sheeda had seen the e-mails and wondered how her aunt kept friends in the church. Mo would have said, she was irky. And Sheeda kind of agreed. But, she loved the church kitchen as much as her aunt did . . . how big it was, how it always felt warm and inviting, no matter the season.
The only thing fancy about the church’s kitchen was the humongous shiny metal hood that sucked and blew out smoke. It hung over the stove like a giant vacuum and came in handy during fish frys. Kids weren’t allowed in the kitchen much, but when they ventured in, looking into the mouth of the hood was a main attraction. Otherwise, the kitchen was a big pantry and an oversized space, large enough so the whole five crew kitchen ministry could be inside cooking and prepping at once.
Sheeda lost herself inside the pantry, stocking the shelves with the donated food, neatly stacking the canned corn and green beans. Having each can of corn face the exact same direction on the shelf was key to them tasting good.
Next, she cut nice even chunks of the French bread for that night’s spaghetti dinner—didn’t matter what else was on the menu, spaghetti and garlic bread were always night one of VBS. Past memories of the melted butter and tangy garlic made her stomach grumble.
As the kitchen ministry staff trickled in, Auntie D’s voice greeting and instructing echoed in the empty multipurpose room next door. It wouldn’t be empty long. The multipurpose room was the heart of Vacation Bible School. Soon a small table would be set up at the door to make sure no students snuck over and took crafts or had snack before their scheduled time. God forbid. Raisin boxes and mini bags of pretzels would be on a long table against one wall, waiting for the teenage teacher assistants to scoop up and deliver to their classrooms. Half the room would be tables for each class’s dinner. The rest of the room would be set up for arts and crafts.
The stage, at the back of the room, would be temptingly empty, luring everyone to step up on it to clown only to be told to get down. The VBS teachers shooed people away from the stage as if they were protecting it for a Broadway play or something. The more they warned the kids away, the more everybody wanted to step on it. The stage would only be used on the last day, when every class presented some sort of skit on what they’d learned.
Auntie D breezed into the kitchen. She was in Sister Tate mode, ready to tend to business. “I appreciate you putting the food away, Luv.” She flooded the room with light, grabbed an apron, and nicely dismissed Sheeda. “I think Sister Simmons is ready for help getting the classroom together. I’ll see you when you bring your class in for dinner.”
Sheeda didn’t mind being excused. As bad as she’d wanted to attend Cove Days, she didn’t hate Vacation Bible School. Especially now that she helped instead of listening to lessons. And she liked Sister Simmons, who was probably the same age as Auntie D but acted way younger.
Sister Simmons was what her aunt called a transplant because she wasn’t an original First Bap member. And even though Auntie D denied it, a lot of times the other members totally shaded Sister Simmons. Then had the nerve to act as if Sister Simmons couldn’t see them being shady. But Sheeda had seen her oh-no-you-didn’t face the time one of the elders told her that maybe she needed to sit back and watch how things were done before getting too involved. Ever since then Sister Simmons had gotten involved triple time. The way she spoke her mind and did what she wanted reminded Sheeda of a grown-up version of Tai—if Tai ever got any kind of chill whatsoever.
She took her time walking the quiet hall that held five classrooms and the pastor’s office. A big corkboard dominated one wall. Flyers promoting dinners, members selling things, and upcoming events plastered every inch.
One big poster sat in the middle of the paper chaos. She stared at her own smiling face on the flyer reminding everyone time had run out to sign up for the retreat. On it, the First Bap Pack, Mo, and a couple others were all crispy from too much sun and swimming. Sheeda’s twists were frizzy from daily dips in the pool. Stray hair haloed around her face. Those close enough to Jalen were mid-laugh, perfectly conveying just how great the Beat the Heat Teen Retreat was.
Except, not exactly. Right before the pic had been taken, Jalen had whispered, “Everybody say big boo-tayyy.” It had only been funny because Brother Patterson, the photographer, working too hard to be down, had said, “I’m not going to make y’all say cheese or nothing corny. What do the kids want to say these days?”
“Cheese is fine, Brotha Pat,” Jalen had announced, speaking for all of them and doing his kiss-up-to-adults act. Then in the very next breath, he’d said the bootie thing while still looking all innocent. For real, Sheeda was mainly laughing at Brother Patterson because he’d puffed up, so pleased, like getting a bunch of teenagers to smile had been the highlight of the retreat.
Next to VBS, the retreat was the only event she looked forward to. She invited the squad to plenty of First Bap events. And sometimes they came. But the retreat was different. She only ever invited Mo to the retreat. And even though Mo was always Mo, realer than real with everyone, she seemed to take a tiny step back during the retreat—happy to let Sheeda take the lead. Sheeda would be lying to say it didn’t feel good to have Mo in her territory.
Even though her First Bap friends were a little awkward, they’d ended up having way more fun together than Sheeda expected. Jalen had a crush on Mo from word go and had tried to holler until he figured out real quick that Mo was 100 percent time enough for him. He wasn’t used to being called out for being corny or kissing up. Something Mo did a lot during the retreat. Not in a mean way, but enough that he stayed in his lane. That’s where he and Yola’s little crush thing started in the first place. This year would be real interesting.
The second she walked into the classroom, Sister Simmons wrapped Sheeda in a bear hug. The oils in her locs shoved itself up Sheeda’s nose. It was like having her face smashed into a bouquet of flowers.
“How are you, baby gurla? You ready for these little hellions?”
Sister Simmons laughed at Sheeda’s openmouthed shock.
“That’s right, I said it. Everybody know how hard it is to keep a five-year-old’s attention.” She pressed her hands to her hips as she mock whined. “Every year I’ve asked your aunt to give me the fourth graders because I do better with older kids. But here we are.” She handed Sheeda a stack of paper, then busied herself on the other side of the room. Her voice carried and Sheeda had no doubt it was floating down the hallway for the other teachers to hear. “You go right on and cut those up for me. All that work and five minutes into it they’re gonna be asking when can they go play kickball. ’Cause . . . kindergartners.” She squinted over at the schedule—black marker on a bright yellow poster board. “At least we get the first outside time slot. We only have to keep them busy for thirty minutes before we ship ’em off to Brother Patterson. You in it with me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sheeda said, charged by the challenge.
“My girl.” Sister Simmons teeth flashed in a grin. “At least Deandra did assign me two assistants this year. That’ll be a big help.”
Sheeda was about to ask who when Kita walked in, church-appropriate in a pair of jeans (no holes or rips) and a yellow round-neck T-shirt that would only be in danger of showing cleavage if you DIY’ed it. She and Sheeda were practically outfit twins, except Sheeda’s jeans were capris and her shirt was last year’s retreat T with all the participants’ names on the back. She wouldn’t dare wear a good T-shirt to VBS. Kindergartners had no idea how to paint without spilling.
“There she goes.” Sister Simmons rushed to wrap Kita in her arms. “Now that the brain trust is here, I need to go get the lesson plan out of my car. When I get back, we’ll talk about how we’re going to survive this week.”
She was out of the door and loudly greeting the pastor.
Kita looked shell-shocked. “Survive? Are we doing boot camp or Bible lessons?”
“Right?” Sheeda handed half the packet to Kita. “Grab some scissors.”
Sheeda’s hands memorized the route of what was supposed to have been a replica of their church building. She cut automatically. “Which class is Yola helping with this year? The chat been a little . . . where they at doe, lately.”
Her and Kita’s eyes met, an understanding there that they weren’t going to be ratchet and gossip in church. At least not today. Kita looked back down, concentrating on her cutout.
“She with the second graders, I think.” Kita chuckled. “I like that—where they at doe? Yeah, it’s def been a little quiet.”
“Are y’all two okay?” Sheeda couldn’t help asking, even though she didn’t want to get in the middle.
“We fine.” Kita held up one of her pretend First Baptist cutouts. “At least the paper white enough so you can actually color it in. Remember that year the copies came out so dark you could barely see what you was coloring?”
“And Sister Williams’s niece started crying because none of her colors showed up,” Sheeda said, shaking her head. “It was like, girl, no one actually cares about this. We’re trying to get to the real arts and crafts in the multi room.”
Kita cracked up. “I know, right?”
Sheeda reminisced on. “These kids got it good. We didn’t even get outside time when the church was at the Legion.”
“Oh my Go—” Kita slapped her hand over her mouth. Her head swiveled to the door. “Oops. I mean, for real, though. Then we only got, like, maybe two years here before your aunt made us start TAing. I’m not mad though. I like helping.”
“Me, too,” Sheeda said, realizing she meant it. “Sister Simmons called the kindergartners ‘hellions.’”
“She never lied, though,” Kita said. “I hope little Matty not in our class. He bad as I don’t know what.”
They laughed in a hoarse whisper, eyes periodically checking the door for anybody that might be lurking in the hallway to catch them talking stuff.
“Is your friend Mo coming to the retreat again?” Kita asked.
“Yeah. Right now, she away at a ballet intensive for three weeks,” Sheeda said, bursting with pride that ballooned at the impressed look on Kita’s face.
“Three weeks? Oh, she serious, serious.”
“Well, yeah, when you say it twice, that’s the real deal,” Sheeda joked.
“She was funny,” Kita said.
They both jumped when Sheeda’s phone clacked across the table as a message came in.
DatGirlTai:
Can you work the booth with me?
Rah-Rah:
Sorry. No
Her phone buzzed urgently. First one message, then three. Then two more.
Sheeda didn’t bother to check them. The first few words of Tai’s last text glowed: I don’t see why—before her phone dimmed.
Kita glanced down at it. “Umph. Who blowing you up?”
“It’s my friend, Tai. She mad because I can’t go to a fair with her.” Seeing Kita’s attentive gaze, Sheeda explained. “It’s, like, a community day. But five days of it. They have bands and stuff. Booths with free stuff. Basketball tournaments. I’ve never been, though, ’cause it’s always the same week as VBS.”
“Oh, right.”
Sheeda cut slowly, one eye on her phone, waiting for Tai to strike again.
“You good?” Kita gathered her scraps. She crumbled the jagged handful of paper, twisting it into a tight knot.
Sheeda pulled her eyes away from the phone and gave Kita a reassuring head nod.
Kita floated her trash toward the can. It landed with a hollow thunk. “Ayy, two points.” They fist-bumped. She watched as Sheeda continued cutting, then asked randomly, “It get old missing everything, huh?”
Sheeda looked toward the door, expecting her aunt to pop in with an “Aha, I knew you hated church.” The hallway was quiet. Sister Simmons had likely stopped into the multi room, where the teachers and advisors gathered until things kicked off. The laughter of other TAs could be heard faintly coming from the classrooms. She wondered why Yola hadn’t come by looking for them. A part of her couldn’t believe they were still not talking, but she didn’t want to ask Kita about her again.
“It does get old.” The weight of the truth slid away. “But, honestly, I don’t have nothing better to do this summer anyway. So . . .”
“That’s kind of messed up,” Kita said. She took a few papers from Sheeda’s stack and helped. “Is it that bad kicking it with us?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just . . .”
She stopped herself. She had meant it that way. What she wanted, she couldn’t have. She would settle for hanging with Tai, but it wasn’t her first choice. And she’d never be allowed to chill with Lennie. Messaging him was tricky enough. She stayed deleting their DMs. All she had left was sitting home doing nothing. Being at First Bap was at least better than that.
Kita’s scissors moved smoothly around the outline of the building. Sheeda waited until she had clipped around one uneven corner before speaking.
“For real, sometimes it’s that I don’t fit in anywhere.” Sheeda’s scissors dangled from her fingers, balancing on her knuckle. She gave it a gentle push, letting the movement lull her into a full confession. “I’m here so much missing out on stuff they doing, I be feeling like I’m always trying to catch up once I’m back home. But when I’m here, I’m just the third girl that be with you and Yola.”
She was grateful when Kita nodded along. Her face no longer tight.
“I have friends at school, but once summer is here I don’t see them. They used to it now,” Kita said. “I’m definitely closer to y’all. I mean, when I see you.” Her laugh was sad. “I don’t see you as just the third girl or whatever. I just figured you didn’t like hanging with us.”
Sheeda thought about saying that wasn’t true. But it was. Time to stop lying, especially in church.
Kita politely ignored Sheeda’s silence. “Meanwhile, I stay so bored at home. That’s why usually I can’t wait to get to rehearsal or whatever.”
That part Sheeda related to. Lately, after sitting home all day, she was grateful by the time rehearsal time rolled around. As much as she’d promised herself to get out and have fun, she hadn’t done it at all, at least not without wishing she were somewhere else or were with someone else.
She stacked her cutouts, patted them with satisfaction, and asked, “Want to sleep over one day? We both have to be here all week anyway.”
Kita’s head pumped eagerly. “Let me ask my mother. She tired of me sitting around, so she probably say yes.”
