I knew I was in for it the first time he smiled at me.
It was the first day of my senior year in a brand spankin’ new high school in a not so new town. I’d spent most of my summers with a small chunk of my rather large extended family in Lansing so I knew my way around, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about being there. I had to uproot myself from my life and my friends so yes; it was with disdain and pure annoyance that I was sitting by my lonesome in the cafeteria. Despite the fact that I was irritated at being locked inside Jon Turner High School—or J-Turn as the locals so affectionately call it—for another four and a half hours, I didn’t want to be the only person sitting in the lunch room alone. I was passing out side eyes left and right for no real reason as I silently cursed my cousins for having other places to be while leaving me stranded in no-girls-land. I was searching for my friend Shell while not so silently cursing her under my breath when my eyes landed on him.
He was wearing a black polo and jeans with a fitted cap to match and since he was an alright lookin’ guy—a’ight, let me stop frontin’, baby boy was the very embodiment of fine. If I wanted to speak in clichés, I’d tell you that you’d see his picture next to the words ‘fine’ ‘sexy’ and the phrase ‘got damn’ in the dictionary and that lookin’ at him made a sista wanna meet his dad, but clichés are not my thing—I gave him a not so quick once over. After my eyes had made their languid journey back to his handsome face, I sat back and watched him talk to his boys from behind the pages of my copy of The Devil’s Teardrop.
His friends had been laughing at something he said when, without warning; he turned his attention to me. Now, far be it from me to sound like some cheesy dime store romance novel, but allow me to keep it real with you. Our eyes connected and he gave me that knee knockin’, panty droppin’, make a girl wanna do somethin’ smile of his. A lesser female would’ve surely melted on the spot or thrown herself at his Jordan clad feet begging him to take her on the nearest flat surface but um...I’m so far above that sort of thing.
Well, not really, I did find my stomach being assaulted by a swarm (or is it a flock?) of butterflies.
Some random female was tryin’ to intrude on our moment and the satisfaction I felt as he ignored her very existence was immense. Perverse? Yes, very much so in fact, but it was immensely perverse so that made it alright. He gave me his own not so quick once over while random female number one exited stage right. I mentally chunked up the deuce to her retreating figure and he looked me in the eye. What I saw there was enough to make me have an excursion into the gutter, but as quickly as it began; it was over when he looked away.
Flustered and six different kinds of annoyed with myself and the butterflies that were still wreaking havoc on my stomach partly because I couldn’t decide if it was a flock or a swarm of them that were tormenting me, I reached under the table to where I had hidden my backpack. (I had seen some girl get her Louis Vuitton bag snatched earlier in the day and I wasn’t tryin’ to take any chances) Angrily flipping through the pages of my book, I reached into my bag for my Zune.
I had just read something that Tobe Geller had said to Agent Lukas when “Angel of Mine” by Monica came on. Without looking away from the book, I turned up the volume on my media device and continued to read. As the song came to its conclusion, I realized that there was some unknown ergo thoroughly unwanted person standing in my personal space. I looked up as Monica sang:
I look at you
looking at me
now I know why they say the best things are free
checkin’ for you boy you’re right on time
Angel of mine
and found myself staring into a pair of impossibly hazel eyes with flecks of gold and amber in them. It took my brain a moment to realize that the owner of those eyes was speaking and I pulled my Skull Candy headphones out of my ears.
With another one of those smiles that had me seriously considering lowering my standards, sweeping the remainder of my lunch off the table and having my wicked way with him while everyone watched—I had just pulled reverse cowgirl out of the mental rolodex of things I’ve always wanted to try in the bedroom. Don’t front, you know that you’ve got certain things you’ve been dyin’ to try in bed— he asked, “You’re new here, right?”
Oh my sweet six pound, seven ounce baby Jesus, that voice…
I nodded that I was and he grinned making the butterflies in my digestive tract go insane. Unaware of the effect he was having on my stomach contents, he asked if he could take a seat. Not one to be rude to a handsome stranger, I motioned for him to sit while I turned off my music. He was still smiling as he sat across from me and asked what grade I was in. I took a sip from my half empty water bottle and told him, “I’m a senior.”

“That’s what’s up, me too. So, since you’re new here and all how do you like it at Turner so far?” Suddenly remembering that he hadn’t introduced himself, he chuckled and said, “I’m Cam by the way, well, Cameron. You can call me Cam or CJ though, everyone does.”
I reflected on my first three classes of the day and answered, “Well, it’s only halfway through the first day so I can’t really complain,” I sighed, “that’s a lie, I can complain, but I won’t. I promised that I’d try the whole ‘positivity’ thing. It’s just weird bein’ here with people that I barely even know when I spent the last three years at a school that all my people go to, ya know?”
I sat there mentally kicking myself for inviting some virtually unknown yet incredibly sexy person into my business when Cam nodded.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. It was like that when I moved here from Detroit in the middle of freshman year. What about you, where are you from?”
For the record: I had figured that he wasn’t from Lansing. Having spent time in and around the city during various holidays, weekends and breaks from school, I know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. In fact, there has only been one other person that’s on the same level as CJ looks wise. However, that person also happens to be my god brother so to think of him as sexy puts me in a rather incestuous frame of mind. Suffice it to say that that ain’t it. I don’t know, maybe there’s somethin’ in the water but um…yeah. There are more than a few guys that would be the finest niggas in the world if Lansing were to be somehow lit by club lighting.
I ain't lyin'.

I’m just sayin’.
“Damn, you had to move in the middle of the year? I was trippin’ when I found out that I had to leave GR so I could be here from the very beginning.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, my moms got a job here so she moved the fam from the D to the Cap’ City. So…not to be nosy or anything—”
“Meaning that you really do want to be nosy,” I interjected after taking another sip from my water bottle.
He laughed. “Okay, just to be a little bit nosy then. Why’d you leave Grand Rapids? I mean, only if you wanna tell me, I won’t pry.”
Unsure if I wanted to believe that or not, I shook my head and told him that my parents had gotten divorced. My mom, who was awarded primary custody, decided that it would be a marvelous idea to move to the capital city.
I neglected to mention the fact that my parents had legally been separated for six years but they decided to team up and ruin my senior year as a birthday present. First, my—insert air quotes here—Sperm donor with benefits father proposed to his live in girlfriend/offensive line backer look-a-like El Jefe, so my mom called up my aunt Alejandra, the divorce lawyer, and took dear old dad to court. I also didn’t mention that I was willing to live in my best friend Camry’s basement or—worst case scenario—move in with daddy dearest and his adoptive family to avoid living in Lansing. I didn’t bring it up because one, he didn’t ask all the sordid details of mine life and two, it wasn’t any of his business.

Cam looked genuinely sorry and he told me he was. I shook my head again and told him that there was no need to apologize for the inevitable; it was bound to happen.
“I feel you—”
That little voice in the back of my head chimed in and said “I wish you could.”
“—but damn, it’s your senior year. You had to move to a new town and you left your friends, ya fam and your man behind.”
I did the completely unsexy and totally unladylike thing and snorted at his attempt to delve deeper into my life. I hadn’t had a serious boyfriend in some months so the thought of some guy back in the Rue pining after yours truly was enough to make me laugh. Doing just that, I asked what was it that made him think that I had a man.
“I just assumed that a girl that looks as good as you do would have at least one nigga. You tryin’ to tell me you don’t?”
I had been leaning forward, hanging on his every word—and flashin’ a bit of cleavage, I won’t lie—and I had to roll my eyes at the weakness of the game that was spit to me. I was about to call him on it when he licked his lips and I choked on yet another sip of water. When I started to turn red he stood and asked me if I was alright. I waved him away and after my respiratory system regulated itself, I took a deep breath and told him, “No,” hoping to leave it at that.
Unfortunately, Cam chose that very moment to be more than a little bit nosy as he asked, “No…what? You don’t have a man or you don’t have more than one?”
“No, as in no I don’t have more than one.”
“Ah,” he replied as he sat back in his chair, “so you only have one then?”
“And just what makes you think that I’m even into guys, hmm? But, since I doubt you’ll be satisfied until you get the answers you seek, I’m straight and no, I don’t have a boyfriend, a man, a boo, a hubby or any of that. Now, what about you?”
For the record, I was asking if he had a girlfriend. This fool asked, “Do I have a man? Um, no, I too am straight.”
I told him that he knew exactly what I meant with a roll of my eyes and he laughed. “But forreal though, naw, I don’t have a girl. Why, you tryin’ to get at me?”
I was the one to laugh that time.
“First of all, I’ ve only known you for what…all of two, maybe three minutes? I don’t know you know you yet—” Cam interjected and asked if I was trying to get to know him. I ignored his outburst because I was afraid that I would say actually tell him yes and continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “And secondly, the only reason I was askin’ is because I just assumed that someone that thought they looked as good as you would have at least one girl. I can’t believe you’ re tellin’ me you don’t.” Finished, I gave him a smug smile and sat back in my chair.
Taken aback, he asked, “Whatchu mean I think I look good? I don’t have to think about it miss…” a slightly embarrassed look came over his face as he said, “I just realized, I never caught ya name. My bad, what is it?”
“You can’t catch what hasn’t been thrown,” another sip of water. “I’m Essence.”

He nodded. “Alright, nice to meet you Essence. What’s ya last name?”
“What are you, a stalker? My last name is St. James, Mr.…?”
“Jones. Cameron Alexander Jones. Essence St. James…it suits you.”
I actually blushed as I thanked him for the compliment. He smiled that smile of his at me and said, “No problem. Now, like I was saying, I don’t think I look good, I know I do. My momma didn’t have any ugly kids.”
With a roll of my eyes I commented on his humility. “Well aren’t we the modest one.”
Laughing at my obvious sarcasm, Cam said, “If you can tell me you don’t think that I’m the rather attractive individual that I am, I will gladly take it back.”
You should’ve just heard how he said it. Like there was no way in hell that I could fix my mouth to tell him that he didn’t look good. His flat out cockiness caused me to act without thinking and without warning, the words “Nigga please, you ain’t that damn fine,” popped out of my mouth. As soon as the last syllable fell from my MAC glossed lips, I realized how wrong I was. Yes, he has not so random bouts of cockiness but let’s face it, baby boy is foine enough to talk his shit, he can more than get away with it.
Six feet and four inches of shit talkin’ sexiness wrapped in a perfectly proportioned, all seasons complexioned body….
Let me enlighten those of you who are scratching your heads at the term “all seasons complexion”. The phrase was coined by my girl Camry, and a person with an ASC is someone with that rare perfect blend of light and dark skin tones. Camry has this theory that females tend to gravitate towards light skinned guys during the warmer months and darker guys during the colder ones. When asked why that was, she said it was a simple matter of science: darker colors attract heat and lighter colors don’t. She theorized that no one wants to be unnecessarily hot during the summer so that’s when light skinned guys and girls are in. She also went on to say that no one wanted to freeze in the winter so they flock towards those on the darker side of the color spectrum. Upon hearing her explanation, I asked her if she knew just how fucked up that sounded. Unabashed, she told me to examine by dating habits. Upon doing so, I saw that she may have had a slight, circumstantial point. My last serious boyfriend was dark skinned and we dated from November to March and my last not so serious boyfriend was butterscotch complexioned and we dated from April to June. Go figure.
To get back to Cam and that perfectly proportioned, all seasons complexioned body of his, he also has those hazel eyes and a voice that sent chills up and down my spine. Then when you add his personality…yeah, okay, up until this point he had been nothing if not cocky, but it didn’t take us too long to move past that.
With an extremely hurt—yet unbelievably cute—look on his face, Cam asked, “Damn, did you have to say it that fast?”
“Damn, didn’t you ask me to do it?”
He nodded, “That’s true, but you said it so fast that I almost think you believe it.”
Leaning forward with an eyebrow cocked and ready, I demanded to know just what I had said or done to make him question my belief system. Cocky as ever, he explained, “You couldn’t have meant it because I’m Cameron A. Jones. All women find me attractive, I even got studs comin’ up to me sayin’ I look good.”
Resisting the urge to be mean by saying something completely false about possible femininity issues, I told him that was all well and good but, “um…I’m no lesbian.” He laughed and said I knew what I meant and I quickly countered, “Yeah, well, I know what you said too.”
Still laughing, Cam challenged, “A’ight then Miss Essence, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t think that I look good. If you can do that, I will gladly let the subject drop.”
On one hand, I really wanted nothing other than to tell him that he was hideous and had no right to be conceited about his ‘good looks’. But on the other side of the issue…Cam is sexier than a muhfucka. Lying on that fact would surely be enough to send me to hell in a gasoline drenched velour track suit complete with a kerosene soaked bra and panty set from Vicky. I’m not sure, but I’m almost positive that I would be sent down to the fiery pits with Satan and his demon army with a stick of dynamite in each hand as well. So, it was either gas up his head by telling the truth or try to deflate his ego by lying and sentencing myself to an eternity in hell dressed like someone’s Nana. What to do, what to do…
Sensing my hesitation, Cam mocked my earlier movements with the lifting of an eyebrow and raised me an “I’m waiting” look. Deciding that I was not about to spend an eternity in hell dressed like a fashion reject for lying to this boy, I snapped, “Ugh. Fine, yes, you look good CJ and yo’ cocky ass knows it too. There, feel better?”
Laughing like the jackass he has the potential to be, he said, “I’m not cocky I’m confident so if you—”
With a screeching sound and a finger in his face, I said, “Hold the hell up, you ain’t Jadakiss and this for damn sure ain’t some version of “New York” where you changed the lyrics to suit your cockiness.”

Unapologetic he said, “Okay then, I see you know your music then Miss Essence.” “Yeah, that was my shit when it came out, ‘Kiss had the best verse.” I answered glad to move out of the “you will acknowledge my sexiness” waters that he had steered the boat that was our conversation into. He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but Ja’s verse was cool too.” I wasn’t tryin’ to knock Ja Rule’s skills so I told him I guess he had a point but the song wouldn’t have been anything worth listening to without Jadakiss. That—very true if you ask me and even if you don’t that’s what it is—statement got us started on a long conversation about music. After we discussed some of our favorite rappers, Cam moved around to my side of the table and asked who and what else I have on my mp3 player. Accessing my library, he found that I have music by Lazyeye, Cartel, Case, Wale, XV, Linkin Park, Donnell Jones and many others in my collection of more than 4,500 songs. We had been discussing the paper that I had written based on Wale’s song “The Kramer” while I had been scrolling through my list of songs. I came across one of my favorites and decided to play it.
Cam, who had had the left ear bud of my Skull Candy’s in his ear ever since I offered it to him to listen to “Today Was A Good Day” by Ice Cube, pulled it out of his ear in disgust.
“I know you don’t have me sittin’ here listenin’ to “Case of the Ex”.”
I giggled—which made me want to choke myself. Who giggles?-“What, don’t like Mya?”
He shook his head. “I mean, she’s an alright artist and all, but I’d rather look at her than listen to her sing nawmean?”
I rolled my eyes and finished the rest of my water.
“So, you’re sayin’ she looks good eh?”
Hey, I’m not hatin’ on Mya, sista girl is mad talented, but really? No shade to her or anything like that but in the looks department? I guess, if that’s what you like…
“You’re soundin’ a little insecure Miss Essence; you know you look good too.”
Laughing long and hard at the notion of me being insecure because it’s partly true, I told him, “That’s the second time you’ve said that since you came over here to harass me. I guess that’s on you.”
Don’t misunderstand me now. I’m quite perfectly aware of the fact that I’m not one of those girls who walks around lookin’ like I’ve been hit in the face with a bag of helldafucknaw (emphasis on the ‘hell’ and the ‘naw’) while still managing to think she’s a dime. I’m what you can call forreal with myself. I know that I’m not the finest nor the flyest girl on the face of the earth, I’m cool with it. Since God chose to label me a six, I won’t embarrass myself by acting like I’m an eight or higher. That’s unbecoming to the most degree.
Cam shook his head and asked if I was serious. “So, you’re tryin’ to tell me that you don’t think you look good?” My response was to give him a double blink, aduh stare.
“So if I were to tell you that I thought you were sexy right now, you would say…what?”
I sat back in my chair and got lost in faux Pooh Bear (“Think, think, think”) mode. I tapped my nose with my right index finger as I mused, “Hmm…what would I say, that’s a tough one Cam. Well, to answer your first question, no, I’m not tryin’ to tell you that I don’t think I look good. That fact has already been established. Now, if you were to say that I’m sexy? I suppose that I’d have to say thank you then I would feel obligated to schedule an appointment with your optometrist.”
As expected, he laughed.
“Naw, I don’t need my eyes checked but you might ma. Oh, so you know? You are sexy. I could ask just about any nigga n here if they thought so and they’d back me up.”
I had the whole raised eyebrow and “what in the hell is this bullshit that I’m hearing and/or witnessing” thing goin’ on. When he saw my disbelieving look, he gave me his own, “oh, so you think I’m playin’” one in response. When I rolled my eyes at him, he jumped up like he was about to find some random person with testosterone coursing through their system just so he could prove his point. Just as he walked over to unnamed boy number one who was leaning up against the wall talking to random boys two through four, I stood and grabbed his—distractingly muscular—arm and hissed, “Nigga if you don’t sit yo’ tall ass down—”
He cut me off and asked me what I was gonna do. I glared and asked if he really wanted to find out. He laughed off my inherent threat of violence and turned to sit back down.
I continued to glare at him after I was seated and he continued to laugh his increasingly annoying laugh and asked if we had a problem.
“If you try somethin’ like that again we will. I swear to you I’m gonna—”
“Gonna what, glare at me some more?”
His voice, which was dripping with sarcasm, was really starting to annoy the hell outta me. Just who did this fool think he was, directing sarcastic barbs at me? He obviously had no clue about Essence so I had to let him know.
“No, I’ll kick you in the forehead, fuck that glaring bullshit…”
He laughed again. And hard. Insulted by his nerve, I continued, more than a little pissed off. “Yo, why are you sittin’ there laughin’ like I’m not serious? What, you think this is a game”
Can you believe that he actually guffawed as he said, “It’s gotta be a game or somethin’ ma cuz ain’t no way you could kick me in the forehead. You’re what, all of 5’8? I’m 6’4; you couldn’t reach my forehead even if you wanted to.”
Doing my best imitation of my cousin Mo’s ‘are you kidding me’ voice while pulling my other cousin Rae’s ‘excuse me, just who do you think you’re talkin’ to’ raised brow—which is drastically different from my own raised brow in case you were wondering about the distinction—out of my arsenal of evil looks. Evil look combination number seventy six –a in place, I snapped, “That’s where you’re wrong. I would either kick you in the knee until you fell or I would stand on a table or chair…. See, there you go laughin’ again. What did I just say that was so damn funny? Oh, I get it now, you think I’m playin’? Cam, don’t look at me like that, I will get up on this chair right now.”
Usually, evil look number seventy six –a is enough to leave a grown man wallowing in a pool of his own tears and fecal matter, but in this instance the only effect it had was to make this fool Cam howl with laughter. When I stood and pushed back my chair, he was still cackling like a hyena, but the moment I stood on said chair, all laughing stopped.

“Essence, what the hell are you doing?”
“Cameron, why the hell were you laughing?”
“It was funny.”
“Yeah, well lets see how funny shit is when you take this Reebok to the side of ya damn dome.”
He stood and informed me, “No need to get hostile now ma. You can sit down.”
He extended his hand to help me down from my self imposed perch and I took it just to have a reason to touch him. I reiterated that it wasn’t a game and he told me that he’d have to remember that.
By this time, I was standing safely on the ground, yet my hand was still grasped in his. That was just fine with me, believe that.
“I didn’t actually think that you were forreal.”
An unexpected and totally unwanted bout of shyness came over me as I answered, “Yeah well…I don’t know how to be anything but.”
Letting go of my hand—I sighed inwardly at that like a total spaz—he told me that he would have to remember that. We took our seats and started a conversation about our morning classes. Cam had just been telling me about his pre calculus class and had been going into detail about the scale replica of the Great Divide on his teachers head when he looked up and said, “Hey, lunch is almost over. What class do you have next?”
I looked up to see that he was right, lunch was almost over. I bent down to pick up my backpack from where I had hidden it under the table and reached into the front zippered pocket. I moved around my various writing utensils and pulled out my schedule. A quick glance at the lime piece of paper showed that I had AP Bio—yes, ya girl is smart and proud of it—as my next class. I relayed the information back to Cam and he asked me if it was up on the fourth floor.
“Room 406.”
He pushed his chair back and stood. “We should head to class before the bell rings so we can beat that after lunch rush.”
Confused, I asked “Hold up…are you tryin’ to tell me that you have AP Bio too?” as I put what remained of my lunch and empty water bottle on my tray. When I got up to dump everything in the trash, Cam followed and asked me why that was so hard to believe.
I was about to tell him that I hadn’t meant it like that and was only going to bring up the whole ‘small world’ thing when he sniffled and sobbed, “It’s cuz I’m black isn’t it?”
I put my tray down and turned to face Cam who had been standing behind me. I looked at his serious expression, then I looked at myself. Sticking my hand in front of his face I said, “Uh…no, I’m black too you weirdo. What the hell kind of question is that?”
Taking my wrist in one of his hands, CJ put his other hand next to mine and said, “Well damn, so much for being consistently forreal. You, Miss Essence, are nowhere near black. You’re yellowish sweetie.”
I snatched my hand away and stomped over to my seat, mumbling all the way across the room. Grabbing my backpack, I threw it onto my back and muttered, “Yellowish my ass, I am light skinned. I’m tired of people talkin’ about my skin color like I’m an effin’ crayon. First it was Shell this morning with her, ‘Oh Essence, you’re lookin’ awfully bright this morning, ya mind toning that down a bit’. Then this—”
Just as my tirade was about to get good, Cam interrupted and asked, “Shell? You mean Nashell Warren?”
“What’s it to you if that’s who I mean? And who asked you to interrupt me while I was speaking?”
Choosing to ignore my second question he answered, “I was just curious. I don’t know who you do and don’t know down here,” as he walked over to his side of the table and picked up his backpack.
I was about to tell him it was really none of his business who I did and didn’t know in Lansing. I was about to tell him where he could stick his curiosity since I was still annoyed about his comments on my skin tone when I heard an all too familiar voice. I prayed to God for forgiveness because I just knew that I was about to do something that He wouldn’t exactly smile upon. When Jasmine—the numero uno Bop- Ho-Spark of the 517 and surrounding areas—called me a bitch before placing herself at Cam’s side, I asked Him for strength to knock her triflin’ ass out if need be.
I thought about the promise I had made to my mom that morning about not starting or getting involved in any nonsense, but all of that went right out the window when I saw the hands that had given unknown numbers of hand jobs touch Cam.
The moment her flesh met his I got a little territorial and I was ready to jump across and punch her lights out like I had a few weeks before.
Slutty as ever, Jasmine slid against him and purred—I know. Who under the age of thirty purrs?—“Hey boo, I missed you, how was your summer?” while wrapping her stumpy little leg around his waist.
None too gently, Cam pushed her leg off him and moved back a good three feet. Wiping the invisible slut stains off of his jeans, he told her, “My summer was good, I just got back from Cali with the fam last Friday. I wish I could say I missed you too, but lying is a sin.”
Without taking the incredibly obvious hint, Jas closed the distance and began to demonstrate why she’s gotten the gold medal in Hoenastics in each of the last four Hoelympics.
“See, why you gotta do me like that baby? I know I had you feenin’ for me all summer long while you were in Cali,” she stepped closer and slid her hand toward his belt buckle. “Mmm, remember when we got that hotel room papi? When you had me in the bed, on the dresser, against the wall…”
Cam grabbed her wrist and flung her hand away from his crotch. Jasmine did what she obviously thought to be a sexy chuckle (although the end result sounded more like a person who had smoked for thirty years, had asthma, emphesema and was simultaneously choking on a chicken bone after running a 10.6 K marathon for charity. Yeah, not a pleasant sound.)and said, “See, you do remember how I like it rough.”
Their exchange was enough to make me wanna blow chunks and I made a big show out of gagging.

Having has herself fully removed from Cameron’s person, Jasmine turned her attention towards me. Acting braver than she had to feel at the moment, she asked, “Do you have a problem, bitch?” A note of panic crept into her voice as she added, "And what the hell are you doin' here anyways? I though yo' bitch ass would be back in Gun Rue by now."
Now, Jasmine knows better than anyone that I don't take too well to being called a bitch. As a matter of fact, that exact word coming out of her mouth is the reason that my fist connected with her face at my cousins Monica, Leslie and Rayne's collective birthday party. Well, she crashed the party too, but that's beside the point. She just gave me the opportunity that I was lookin' for to hit her for the shit that she's pulled in regards to my family.
I silently asked both mom and God for forgiveness because I just knew that it was about to go down. I put down my backpack and, pulling off my earrings, cracked both my neck and my knuckles. Wordlessly, I removed both the salt and pepper shakers from the table to prevent the contents of each from being thrown into my eyes. In a deceptively, almost crazy, calm voice I said, "I'm sorry if I interrupted you tryin' to get to third base, but I do believe that I just prevented you from raping Cam. It was obvious that he wasn't exactly uh...feelin' what you had to say. As for me, good news. I live here now. That means that we get to see each other all the time. Aren't you excited?"
A myriad of emotions crossed her face then, embarrassment, shock and disgust chief among them. The reality of what I said dawned on her as she said, “I wasn’t tryin’ to get to third base”, lamely then with more bravado, “And who the hell do you think you are talkin’ to me like that?” she yelled across the table.
I shook my head as I tutted, “Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine…when are you gonna get it? This,” I gestured widely, “ain’t about thinkin’ shit. I know that I’m Essence St.-Muhfuckin’-James. I know that if you don’t get the hell outta my face I’ll beat the fuck outta you like I did a few weeks ago. How’s ya nose feelin’?”
It was at that moment that I became aware of the silence in the lunchroom. I took a quick look around and the eyes of our peers and the lunch staff were trained on Jasmine, me and the drama that was quickly unfolding.
Touching her nose--which I realized was caked with makeup to cover up the bruising--with one hand, Jas reached across the table with the other and slapped me.
The room drew its collective breath as I reflexively reached out and grabbed her wrist. Twisting her arm, I smiled as she cried out. Enraged, she lashed out at me with her other hand and I twisted that arm as well.
Without letting go of her wrists, I walked the short distance around the table and twisted her already twisted arms behind her back. I heard her joints pop and I let the fact that she was in pain egg me on. Squeezing her wrists, I whispered, “Jas, I really hate to get you like this in front of all ya little frienemies but bitch if you lay another hand on me, If I even think that you’re thinkin’ about it, I can guaran-damn-tee that you’ll be sorry. Y’digg?” in her ear loud enough for everyone to hear.
Behind me, the sound of shoes slapping against the linoleum of the cafeteria floor and the cries of someone calling my name filled my ears. I turned to find Jasmine’s bitch nigga boyfriend running toward me. Cursing, I gave Jas a Reebok to the back and pushed her away from me. Reaching across the table to retrieve my silver hoop earrings, I pasted the biggest and fakest smile that I could manage on my face. Turning to face James, I used the voice that goes hand in hand with the smile and said, “Hey James, what’s goody?”
He came to a stop before me and helped Jas up from her rightful place on the floor.
“What the fuck is wrong with you hurtin’ my baby girl like that? Are you fuckin’ stupid?”
Under normal circumstances, this is the part where I’d sit and sigh, then explain that James really didn’t mean to insinuate that I’m less than intelligent. I’d also go into my long, oftentimes boring history with this poor, conflicted boy but…I don’t have time. This story? Yeah…it ain’t about him or the fact that he’s tryin’ to turn a ho into a housewife to make my cousin Rae jealous. This also isn’t about the fact that Rae has stopped checkin’ for James a long time ago and has moved on to James’ older and much sexier brother Jarrod. Nope, no time shall be given to and for those things that I deem to be foolish.
Dropping the act, I quickly snapped back, “Yo ‘baby girl’ was the one who came over here startin’ shit, nobody was even thinkin’ about her hoe ass, ask Cam.” and jerked my thumb in his direction
A look passed between James and Cam who had been nothing but a casual observer in the goings on (probably in hopes of seeing a girl fight up close and personal. I don’t know, I never asked) and I knew that something was going on. Something that was more than likely the doing of everyone’s least favorite slut Jasmine. Giving Cam a--rather effeminate--sneer, James turned backed to me, sniffed daintily and informed me, “I ain’t askin’ this nigga shit”.
CJ muttered something about a cookie ass nigga under his breath and snapped on James.
“Hold the hell up son, I ain’t done nothin’ to yo’ ass so don’t be comin’ at me on some reckless shit.”
James employed a few rather colorful--and by that, the color I mean is rainbow--looking hand gestures much to the amusement of some and the chagrin of others among the spectators as he spluttered, “You ain’t done shit to me? You ain’t done shit to me? Then what the fuck do you call tryin’ to get wit’ my girl? We‘re family C, How you gonna do me like that?”
With a shake of his head Cam replied, “I told you before, I don’t want that girl. Why would I wanna be wit’ someone that everybody done already ran through?” He paused then continued, “Naw, on second thought, why would I wanna be wit’ someone that you already had?”
The look in James’ eyes as our classmates chorused “hoe card” and “Damn” in the background was downright murderous, but before he could defend his or that slut’s his girls honor, someone walked up behind me and started instigating.
“Oh, so you’re just gonna take that Jimmy? What? You gon’ let this nigga Cam talk shit about you and yo’ girl like that? Damn man, here I was thinkin’ that you were a real nigga, you done went and proved me wrong.”
A glance behind me told me what I already suspected.
Shell had arrived.
A moment after her unexpected outburst, Nashell stood by my side and, with an unnecessarily regal toss of her head, stated, “I leave you alone for forty five minutes and you go and get involved in some nonsense. Typical. Where were you anyway? I called you like six times.”
A bit sheepishly I answered, “I was in here with Cam,” I barely noticed the upward nod of greeting that he sent her way out of the corner of my eye, “and my bad girl, I put my phone on silent earlier.”
Popping me in the forehead, she asked me what kind of loser puts their phone on silent. Muttering something about crack monkey-ish behavior, her glance strayed from me, to Cam, to Jasmine and James then back to me and she demanded to know what I had done.
“’Ey, I was just about to go to class with Cam when this bitch,“ I jerked my head in Jasmine’s general direction. I try not to keep ho’s on my radar, that explains why I didn't know exactly where she was, “came over here and called herself startin’ shit.” I showed her the side of my face that had been struck. “She slapped me so I took shit into my own hands.”
With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Shell walked over to where Jasmine was cowering behind her boyfriend. James actually manned up and tried to protect his girl by stepping in front of her so there was a bit of pride mixed in with the annoyance that I was feeling toward him at that moment. When faced with an immovable force, Shell did something that she’s ridiculously good at.
She threatened him.
Having whispered something in James’ ear, he jumped out the way and allowed for Shell to advance on Jasmine. Backing her into the proverbial corner, she hissed, “First of all you skanky sloppy ho, I don’t know why you keep tryin’ to waste time with Cam cuz even the dumbest of dummies knows not to mess wit’ yo’ disease ridden ass and let’s be forreal, this is Cameron we’re talkin’ about here. Secondly, I don’t know why you keep messin’ wit’ my girl Essence after what she did to you at that party. How’s ya face healin’ up bitch? I see ya got all that damn makeup on tryin’ to cover it up.”
Flustered, Jasmine cut in, “Look here Shell--”
“No ho, you look here. You really don’t want it wit’ me cuz I’ll be the one to bust yo’ face open wider than yo’ pussy.