Redoing her ponytail, her brown eyes smiled at me. “Nope. I’m good with my tacos.”
After paying for our lunch we decided to eat outside on the bleachers near the basketball courts. Any other day I’d sneak us off campus and drive to my favorite wing food truck, but my Uncle Lamont has been tripping lately about the number of calls from my third-period teacher snitching about my absence.
“You know, Gavin and Rico kinda favor in the looks. I can see why they date the twins. Twin looking friends dating twin sisters. It makes total sense.” I tried not to pay attention to anything Beck said. The grey drenched sweaty shirt on Gavin’s body had my attention until a vanilla latte with a hint of hazelnut arm reached over my face and into my plate of fries.
See This Is Why…
“Beck! Stop taking my damn fries. I specifically asked if you wanted some and yo’ ass said no.” Shoving her hand out the way I wanted to smack the smirk off her face.
“I don’t understand why you get like this.” She reached her hand over again and took several fries. “This is what we do. You order the fries that I’m not hungry for at the time and I eat them once we sit down.”
Beck and I grew up in two different worlds. I lived in Calabasas all my life and she moved around as a child until her parents settled in East Los Angeles. Once I started going to high school my uncle took a job at the local hospital closer to East LA, that’s how she and I crossed paths. We both went to the snobbiest school in California history St. Helen Catholic School.
The school was a mixture of local kids that grew up in the hood mixed with the offspring of the rich and famous. Freshman year I talked to a handful of people. I had major trust issues and didn’t trust any of these hair flipping females nor the jocks that got a boner off seeing titties in our ugly ass white button-up uniform shirts. Beck and I had a few classes here and there. Spoke a cordial hello in passing but nothing to write home to my parents about.
It wasn’t until the beginning of this year, our sophomore year, that we actually stopped and had a conversation. And ever since then I wondered what stopped me to hold a conversation with the girl in the first place. We shared a love for the same music and taste in guys. Maybe even shared a few favorite movies but that was it.
I liked dressing up every day and she preferred tights and a long sleeve shirt with her hair in a messy bun. She had a bubble flirty personality and I stayed ready to correct anyone that got flip at the mouth with me. Beck needed to study until the wee hours of the morning and all I had to do was study my class notes. She was Hispanic of Puerto Rican descent and I was pumped full of melanin from the sunshine state of Florida.
We were polar opposites but found comfort in each other’s space. That was until it came to things like this. Things like her taking her nasty ass fingers and eating my food. Or even making it seem like another human being outside of my parents and God pumped fear in my heart.
Negative.
False.
“Where is your uncle taking you this year for your birthday? I hope it’s somewhere nice and fun.” Twice. Twice, she reached over me and dipped her fingers in my basket of fries. I sat with my tray on my lap looking around the open court and waited.
Waited for my temper to simmer down. Waiting for this damn joke to be over. My foot began tapping on the metal bleachers, not loud enough to draw attention but loud enough to harmonize my boiling anger.
Her lips kept moving and her hands kept dipping. At this point not even the scratch of my nose and rubbing my temples could ward away the tingling of pissed off I felt.
Then, she had the audacity to lick her fingers. I swear it felt like we were in a slow-motion part of a movie.
She licked her fingers and I thought she was finished. Oh, no. Not Beck. Beck kept talking and talking and I watched with shaky hands as she used those same licked fingers and touched my fries. My heart pounded so loud that I heard it through my ears.
“You know what would be cool…”
“It would be cool if you stop doing nasty shit.” Before her brows had the chance to do a full crease in confusion I smacked, well more like slapped her in the face with my lunch tray. Fries and all.
“Oh my God! Aaaahh!”
“Oh shit. They fighting!”
“Ms. Edwards! To the Dean’s office right now.”
It wasn’t often that I got the chance to sleep in during the week, but when you’re out on a five-day suspension because you broke the nose of your so-called best friend you get to have a little relaxation. Before he walked his square ass into the Dean’s office I already knew my uncle was going to be pissed. This was the third time this month that he had been called because of my behavior.
Honestly, I didn’t know what the big deal was. How is it that I was raised to defend myself when I felt threatened but when I do, I get in trouble?
Beck and I were surprisingly still friends. She made up some lie about me tripping on the bleachers and landing on her. My uncle didn’t believe nor did her parents. He even took care of the medical treatment for her broken nose and she still called me the same night like nothing happened.
After being lectured the whole way home and lectured even more at dinner, my uncle told me that I better not leave the house while he was at work and I better finish all of my schoolwork. My grades have never been the issue. My issue was my short temper and lack of social skills with people.
After taking a shower with TLC blasting through my speakers and calling my favorite nail tech to see if she could squeeze me in, I got dressed and headed downstairs. Uncle Lamont worked crazy hours at the hospital. He was the chief of surgery and stayed working long shifts that rolled over into the next day and something told me today was going to be one of those days.
“Where are my keys?” Uncle Lamont’s form of punishment meant staying in the house and reading books all day. Our house was way too big for him to know that I watched tv with subtitles on and snuck out the backdoor since he never took my keys.
“Are you looking for these?” The jingle of keys made my shoulders slump. Any other time my feet would be running towards the voice but today I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her.
Rolling my eyes and sticking my tongue out, all the things I wouldn’t dare to do in her face, I turned around and gave her a fake smile. “Such a pleasure to see you, Mother.”
Eyes three shades lighter than my brown ones narrowed, head tilting as my mother analyzed me. I hated when she did this. Hated when she tried to read me.
Tried to figure out my angles of thinking and processing things.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Her hands haven’t crossed over her chest yet, but I knew from the Fila track suit she wore that she was with the mess today.
Clover Kalmin never stepped out the house looking less than runway ready. Though she wasn’t in her usual six-inch heels and couture clothing, the hair was done and so were the nails. She even wore her expensive perfume and lipstick. No doubt about it my mother is beautiful as they come with her rich chocolate skin and perfect white teeth. She reminded me so much of Naomi Campbell but with southern curves. Regardless of the long flight from Florida to Cali, my mother stayed ready for the camera, and the fact that she was in front of me dressed down meant that she and I were about to have a long day.
I thought about lying and telling her that I had class but nothing about my short shorts, tank top, and flip flops said anything about going to school where uniforms were required attire.