Part 15 (2/2)
Dates, how it affected minorities, s.h.i.+t like that.”
”You think you did good?”
”I don't know, maybe a B. Hopefully. I didn't study.”
”You said the same thing last time and got an A.”
”I was lucky. Hey, you got some money I could borrow?” She looked at me and hesitated. She was going to say no. I could see it in her eyes. She must have been thinking about the money I already owed her.
”I'll give it back, I promise. I left my money at home today. I'll pay you back with all the other money I owe you.”
”I only got a dollar to spare,” she said while handing me the money.
”That's cool. Thanks. I'll pay you back tomorrow,” I said, knowing she would forget. She always did until I asked her for some more. The bell rang. ”I gotta go to cla.s.s, you know how Mr. Gordon is about people being late.”
”Yeah.”
”I'll see you at lunch.”
”All right.”
”Good luck on that quiz,” I had to yell at her down the hall.
”Thanks.”
Mr. Gordon was known for not letting people in the cla.s.s if they were tardy. You would have to wait in the hallway with all the other late people and not make too much noise. He would be madder if we made noise in the hallway when he was ready to let us in. He would ask us why we were late, then give us a lecture on why we shouldn't be late. Then, of course, there was the embarra.s.sing walk back into cla.s.s with the whole room watching. Later in the year I would learn to stay by the room during break. For now I had to d.a.m.n near run to the cla.s.s all the way on the other side of the tiny elementary school that they turned into a high school and packed us in like sardines.
Lunch took too long to get here. I always got hungrier when I thought that I might not be able to eat for the rest of the day, and a dollar wasn't gonna cut it. When I got through the crowded hallways to the place where my friends usually ate, they were almost done.
”How the f.u.c.k ya'll get ya'll food so early in that long-a.s.s lunch line?”
They all laughed. They were something like little girls when I cursed. Coming from families with more money than mine, they were sensitive about that stuff. So cussing was always the fastest and easiest way to make them laugh.
”Why you always cuss so much?” April said.
”'Cause I can.”
”Does your mom know you curse like that?” Erin asked, wiping cream cheese off her fingers.
”I cuss in front of her.”
”She does,” Keyona said.
”You bad,” Erin said.
”Ya'll didn't answer my question. How did ya'll get ya'll food so early?”
”We got out of art cla.s.s early,” Erin said.
”One of ya'll got some money I can borrow?”
”You ain't got no money?” Keyona asked.
Obviously, I almost said with att.i.tude. Why would I ask them for money if I had some? ”I left my money at home.” They were silent. ”If each one of ya'll give me a dollar, I will be able to eat.”
Still, nothing. ”I'll pay ya'll back tomorrow.”
April gave me a wrinkled dollar out of her tight jeans.
Erin gave me four of the six s.h.i.+ny new quarters she had.
Keyona, reluctant to give me anything, asked, ”Are you going to pay me back tomorrow?”
”I will.”
She turned to her purse so no one else could see and pulled out a crisp dollar bill.
”Thanks, you guys. I'll give it back,” I said, not knowing if I could live up to that promise. I would definitely have to repay Keyona tomorrow. I went to the lunch line and saw Jasmine and Jessica-the Big Ballers, even though they wouldn't admit it. They had the best cars in school. I would trade shoes with them any day.
I had already asked Jessica for some money earlier. I had to figure out a way to ask Jasmine for some money without Jessica getting mad.
”Jasmine, can I borrow some money?”
”I just gave you some money earlier.”
”A dollar? I can't eat with a dollar.”
Jasmine pulled out five dollars and handed them to me.
”Thanks, I'll pay-”
”Don't worry about it. You don't have to.”
”You sure?”
”Yeah. It's all good.”
Good. I could pay back cheap-a.s.s Keyona and eat tomorrow, and my parents wouldn't know that I had some money.
After school I went to basketball practice. If I didn't eat lunch today, I probably would have pa.s.sed out.
”Point guards lead from the front.” My coach yelled at me because I was the last to finish the suicides. I hated being a point guard because I was lazy. My coach was right, though. I was the leader and shouldn't be last. We had to do three sets of suicides today because two people were late and one person on the team couldn't come. We ran most of the time during practice. It was more like a track team than anything because our coach was not a basketball coach. So we ran, rarely ran plays out of his store-bought playbook, and almost never scrimmaged.
<script>