Chapter Eight
Joi inserted her house key in the door and jiggled it three times, a trick she had finally mastered by watching her mother. She lifted the knob and pushed hard on the old wooden door, and it creaked. Again, nothing unusual. She had begged her mother to buy a new door and lock. It was becoming embarrassing, but Taylor refused every time she asked. The house had at one time belonged to the grandmother Joi never knew, and Taylor wanted to preserve as much of it as she could.
With the door half-open, Joi turned back toward the street and yelled to Rayven, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Seeing that she was safe inside, Rayven and her sister nodded and drove away.
It was only ten-thirty, and the first time Joi had ever been home before her midnight curfew. As she walked through the vestibule, Joi crept by the family room, expecting to find Taylor lounging on the sofa, but the room was empty. She walked lightly to the stairs and listened for any noise—the TV, radio, or telephone conversation—but heard nothing. With any luck, Taylor was asleep.
Proceeding up the stairs, her long and muscular legs silently skipped two at a time. Joi couldn’t see around the slant in the hallway, but hoped that Taylor’s door was closed. To be sure, she tipped down the hall, careful not to disturb her. As she passed the bathroom, her knee bumped into the clothes hamper, and she lost her balance.
Joi bit her lip and waited. Certainly Taylor heard the hamper thump against the wall. She counted to ten before taking another step then softly inched a few more paces to the end of the hall. Her hand barely touched the doorknob when she heard her mother’s door open.
“Is that you, Joi?” Taylor called from her room.
“Yes,” she mumbled. Taylor’s slippers dragged on the carpet, and Joi knew she was headed her way.
Still wearing the burgundy pants suit she’d refurbished a week ago, Taylor stopped in front of the bathroom. “It’s late, but I think we should talk,” she said and pulled at the bronze, scalloped buttons that Leah had picked out from a fabric store on South Street.
Joi wanted to ask if it could wait until tomorrow, but at sixteen she had to do what her mother wanted. She pushed her bedroom door open, and her nose wrinkled. The apple and cinnamon plug-ins barely covered up the musty scent from the clothes piled in the middle of the floor. Joi cracked one of her windows just enough to circulate fresh air without cooling the room. Washing clothes was at the top of her list of things to do after church tomorrow.
Taylor apprehensively walked inside Joi’s room, stepping over CD cases, pens, books, and magazines. Joi could tell she wanted to say something, but held back. Since she’d started working at the store and going to the library every day, there was no time to tidy her room to her mother’s specifications. Joi removed a mound of clothes from the chair in front of her desk and dumped them on the bed.
“I don’t know how you think straight,” Taylor said and took a seat in the now empty chair.
Joi didn’t feel like responding. She took off her shoes, flung them in the corner then leaned against the wall next to a life-size poster of Sheryl Swoopes, a daily reminder that she could one day be in her shoes.
“I don’t know where or how to start, but I know I have to be honest. So I’m just going to say it,” Taylor began. “Jerome was married, and I knew it. What we did was wrong. But I really believed he was going to leave his wife.”
Joi could tell her mother was nervous. Taylor had paused a number of times in order to catch her breath and regain composure. Not once during her explanation did she look Joi in the eye.
“When I got pregnant,” Taylor continued, “I didn’t know what to do. Jerome had moved to Chicago, and I needed to move on.” She crossed her legs at the ankles. “Despite what Jerome and I did, I believed that you were a gift from God, so having an abortion was not an option.”
Joi slid down the wall. She couldn’t believe her mother had been involved with a married man, the woman who fervently preached about doing the right thing. Joi didn’t know which was worse, the secret Taylor kept from her, or knowing that she was the product of an affair. She took off her socks, rolled them into a ball, and added them to the growing pile of dirty clothes. “Does Daddy know about Jerome?”
“Yes,” answered Taylor, her leg bouncing at a slow and steady beat. “But he isn’t to blame. I was the one that wanted to keep this a secret.”
Joi heard Taylor’s words, but how could she not blame both of them? They let her live a lie for so many years. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” she asked.
“We were trying to wait until you were eighteen.”
Understanding her parents’ rationale was difficult at times. Telling her at eighteen would not have lessened the shock or the pain. Joi fiddled with a piece of lint on the floor, contemplating whether or not she should ask questions about Jerome. She decided it was worth a shot. “Do I look like him?”
“Afraid so. It’s almost uncanny how much you favor one another.”
Joi crafted her next words carefully. “When you look at me, do you see him?”
Unsure of where the conversation was heading, Taylor stared straight ahead. “Your looks don’t have to remind me that you’re Jerome’s child. My heart knows that.”
“Is that why you treat me different?”
Taylor was perplexed. “What are you talking about?”
Joi was nervous, but this was her chance to put her feelings on the table. “You may not notice, but I do. You don’t spend a lot of time with me . . . like you do the twins and, especially, Leah.”
Puzzled, Taylor loosened her blazer. “Where is all this coming from? I did plenty of things with you when you were Leah and the twins’ age. But you’re older now and into sports. You know I don’t know a lot about basketball.”
Taylor’s response was not satisfactory. “What about the tickets for the Nutcracker? You didn’t even ask if I wanted to go,” Joi replied.
“Leah likes ballet. I didn’t think you’d be interested in traveling to New York with a bunch of preteens,” Taylor explained. “I wouldn’t ask Leah to go to a Sixers game with you and your friends.”
“I would’ve gone to be with you and Leah,” Joi retorted, her face growing warm with anger. “Is it because I don’t wear skirts and dresses? Or that I prefer to wear my hair in braids rather than get a perm every month? You don’t even come to my games anymore.”
Taylor interrupted Joi’s attack. “All of my children are different, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean I love one child any more than the other. And I go to your games when I can. It’s hard to get away from the store during business hours.” Taylor tapped the floor rapidly with her foot. “I have three other kids to divide my time between. I’m doing the best I can.”
“You own the shop, Mother,” Joi said, trying to maintain a respectful tone. Although she was encouraged to express her opinions, she was taught to do so calmly and in a manner that didn’t designate blame. Lance, more so than her mother, stressed peace in their home. “You take off a whole weekend to go to a pageant with Leah, but you can’t spare a few hours once a week to be in the stands for me?” Joi asked, surprised at the words that came out of her mouth. “And what about the sneakers I wanted last month?”
“That’s enough, Joi.” Taylor stood to her feet. “You didn’t need another pair of sneakers. You have fifty pairs thrown around in this junky room. If you cleaned up or organized a little better, you’d know that.”
Joi threw her hands in the air and let them fall into her lap. “You told me you didn’t have any money, but then Leah showed up with a new gown for her pageant.”
“She needed that to be in the show. You knew we were saving for that dress,” Taylor responded defensively. “You act like I never do anything for you. You need things for basketball that the other kids have to give up luxuries for, too. I didn’t know I had to keep a record of who gets what around here.”
Joi was silent. Her point had gotten lost. She didn’t mean for the discussion to turn into an account of all that Taylor had done for each of her children. She just wanted her mother to see that her love was not evenly divided amongst her daughters and admit the reason why.
“You need to stop focusing on all that you feel you missed out on and how bad you think I’m treating you, and thank God that He gave you parents like me and Lance.” Taylor walked to the door. “You’re blessed, Joi. You’re kidding yourself if you believe Jerome would’ve been half as good as we are.”
“You didn’t give him a chance to be a father to me,” Joi fired back. If Lance were home, she’d be in trouble. Joi knew she had gone too far with her questions but couldn’t help herself. Her pain was great, and she was determined to make Taylor understand that. “Did you ask him to stay away?”
Taylor ignored her and faced the door, her hand firmly hugging the knob.
“I want to meet him,” Joi said matter-of-factly.
Taylor spun around. “What?”
“I want to meet my real father,” she repeated.
“Okay, look, enough is enough. I know you’re upset with me, but I’m not going to tolerate too much more of your mouth,” Taylor bellowed. “And I don’t know where Jerome is, so let this be.”
“What about that lady from the store today?” Joi asked, refreshing her mother’s memory. “Maybe she knows where to find him.”
Taylor stared at Joi long enough to make her feel uncomfortable. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said and left the room.
Joi sat on her half-made bed and hugged the stuffed zebra Markus had won at a college festival. She didn’t pray as much as she should and, in her mind, for good reason. It seemed like the more she prayed for her mother’s love, the tougher she was on her. Even though she thought her prayers went unanswered, Joi did believe in God. He had given her a gift. With no formal training or mentor to guide her, she picked up a basketball one day and outscored children who had played the sport for years. God was the only logical explanation for her talent.
Joi squeezed the stuffed animal with all her strength and begged God to make an exception. “Please bring my real father to me,” she whispered. For some reason, she believed Jerome would make a difference in her life.
The stench in the McDonald’s ladies room was strong, but the few women gathered in front of the mirror didn’t seem to mind. Joi covered her nose and mouth with her hand, and kicked open the door of an empty stall. The lock was broken, so Rayven had to hold it in place. In record time, Joi relieved herself of the liter of water she’d consumed over the last hour, taking as few breaths as possible.
It was Friday night, and Joi had come up with a plan to get her out of the house for most of the evening. She was supposed to be with Rayven rehearsing a presentation for an upcoming English project. With little argument or debate, Taylor had made this night an exception and allowed her to go to Rayven’s house to practice the assignment. Since their conversation last week about Jerome, Taylor had not been as stringent with her rules. Joi believed it was an effort to avoid further confrontation on the subject.
Joi and Rayven had studied together on many occasions, so there was no need for Taylor to confirm the arrangement with Rayven’s mother. The toughest part of Joi’s plan was convincing Rayven to go along with it. All she had to do was ask for permission to go to what many high school students had labeled “Club McDonald’s” on 40th Street. This was not an unusual request for the girls on a Friday night, so Rayven’s mother agreed to let them go. Tonight, however, the girls used McDonald’s as a decoy. They were actually going to Markus’s new apartment. He and his roommates were hosting a housewarming, and Joi was determined to be there for the celebration.
“Remember, we can’t stay late,” Rayven tried to whisper as she held the stall door in place. “My sister is going to meet us back here at eleven-thirty.”
Joi flushed the toilet with the bottom of her baby blue Timberland boots then pushed the door open with her elbow. “I know,” she said, not wanting to say more than absolutely necessary.
“We better get moving,” Rayven urged. “We have to walk three blocks to get to his house from here.”
Joi gave her a short reply. “One second.” She wanted to get a good look at herself before walking into Markus’s new place. This was the first time she’d get to actually meet some of his friends. It was important that she make a good impression.
The same young ladies were still in front of the mirror competing for their own space, primping and prodding at their faces and hair. They laughed and chatted about the fine men seated at various tables as they complimented one another’s outfits.
Joi couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted to leave the foul smelling space before it seeped into her clothes. She recognized one of the girls from a church outing and tapped her shoulder lightly. “Excuse me. Can I just get a quick look?”
All three girls looked at Joi as if she had asked a rude question, but got the hint that they were taking too long.
“Sure,” one girl said, and in unison they perched imitation designer bags on their arms and pranced out the door.
“How silly did they sound?” Rayven laughed when the bathroom was clear, her hand covering her nose. “I sure hope I don’t sound that desperate.” She checked that the tiny curls in her urban Mohawk cut were in place as she strained to get a glimpse of her face through the tarnished mirror. Next, Rayven smoothed on another layer of a bronze-colored eye shadow.
“You don’t,” Joi affirmed.
Bending and squatting at odd angles to get better views of their long and fit bodies, Joi and Rayven made certain they were presentable enough for a college party. When they were satisfied, the girls rushed out of McDonald’s and charged down Walnut Street as best they could without breaking into a sweat.
A small mound of college students were gathered on Markus’s porch, socializing when they reached his apartment.
“Eleven-thirty,” Rayven reminded Joi as they grew closer.
“I know, Ray. Just be cool. We won’t be late,” Joi responded and slowly walked up the concrete steps, searching for her boyfriend or any familiar face.
The girls tried to make their way inside, but they were stopped by a five-foot six, brawny guy wearing fraternity paraphernalia. He introduced himself as Wayne and bragged about being a third-year engineering major.
Before the girls could state their credentials, they were whisked away by Markus.
“Make sure you bring the one with the Mohawk back,” Wayne yelled as Joi and Rayven followed Markus inside.
“He lives upstairs,” Markus said to Rayven. “He’s one of the smarter brothers in the building. Just your type,” he joked.
Rayven twisted her top lip. “Not really. He’s all right-looking, but way too short.”
The girls shared a laugh. Meeting boys they were attracted to had been a challenge since they were in ninth grade. Standing at heights of five-nine and five-eleven, they were either too young or too tall for the men they wanted to pursue.
Markus gave the girls a tour of his new place and introduced them as “good friends” to his two roommates. When the tour concluded, members of the football team had entered, all wearing matching jackets, and Markus told Joi to make herself at home. “I need to tend to some of the other guests for a while,” he said.
Not knowing what to do, Joi and Rayven decided to leave the smoke-filled domain and mingle with the people outside.
Wayne, or Too Short, as they had tagged him, gravitated to Rayven almost as quickly as her feet hit the porch. “Can I talk to you, beautiful?” he asked and grabbed her hand.
Rayven jerked it away, pursing her lips to decline his advance, but Joi responded before she had the opportunity to. “Go ahead,” Joi insisted. “I’ll be sitting by the deejay table when you’re done.”
Rayven squinted her eyes in disbelief, and Joi walked away giggling to herself. She wanted Rayven to have some fun for a change. Maybe Too Short could help her relax. They only had an hour before it was time to leave.
A full moon overshadowed the front porch, and Joi was drawn to its beauty. Sitting alone on an old railing and staring at the sky, she sipped on the same lemonade for the last twenty minutes. Markus had surfaced once since leaving Joi’s side, and had handed her the drink currently in her hand. She had tried to mingle, but quickly realized she had little in common with the folks in attendance. They discussed politics, statistics class, rent, professors, and studying for finals. Besides her casual denim attire and her interest in sports, she had very little to contribute. She was too embarrassed to mention that she was in high school, so she shied away from talking at all.
She took off her jacket and placed it over the railing. For November, the weather was surprisingly warm. The leaves on the trees had yet to turn colors and fall to the ground.
Glancing across the porch, Joi noticed Rayven’s eyes roll every time Wayne whispered something into her ear. Joi knew she was in for a mouthful later. Rayven had tried to escape him several times, but wherever she moved, Wayne moved with her.
Surrounded by empty beer bottles and clouds of smoke, Joi wondered if this was what college life would be like—total freedom to do as you pleased. She didn’t drink and couldn’t stand the smell of cigarettes, but the taste of freedom was pleasing to her senses.
Through the window of Markus’s first-floor apartment, she spotted him sharing a smoke with some friends. Feeling her stares, Markus turned around and winked. She blew a kiss his way and jumped off the rail in hopes that he’d come to join her.
Instead, two girls, one of whom she recognized from pictures in Markus’s old dorm room, headed her way. He had explained that the girl was a very close friend, just one of the crew. She and another girl stood next to Joi, and shared Buffalo wings from a small bowl. They smiled politely then talked to one another as if she weren’t there. The girl from the picture lit a cigarette and grabbed a Heineken bottle from the cooler beside her.
Joi watched the young college woman, somewhat amazed. She couldn’t have been over the age of twenty-one. Joi had never seen a female that age drink anything stronger than an ice-cold Dr. Pepper.
After standing next to Joi for several minutes, the young woman finally initiated a conversation. “So, how do you know the guys?” she asked.
“Markus is my boyfriend,” Joi stated proudly.
“Oh,” the girl said, a look of surprise and confusion on her face. She turned and asked her friend, “He and Eboni broke up?”
“They broke up months ago,” the friend replied, her fingers covered with Buffalo wing sauce.
“Really? She was such a nice girl.”
Joi didn’t like her response but played it off. She swallowed a large amount of her warm drink and looked back inside the house. Markus was no longer in view.
“I’m sure you’re a nice girl, too,” the girl replied, though Joi felt her response was phony and insincere. “I’m Nyemah,” she said. “Markus and I have lots of classes together.” She paused long enough to puff her cigarette. “He’s a cool dude.”
A questioning look crossed Joi’s face. If Nyemah was such a good friend, shouldn’t she know about Joi? Joi pretended she was glad to meet her. “My name is Joi,” she replied.
Nyemah chugged quite a bit of her alcoholic beverage then stared at Joi. “You gonna nurse that lemonade all night?” She waved the beer bottle in front of Joi. “You ought to try some of this.”
“I’m good.” Joi politely swatted the bottle away.
Nyemah lost her balance, and in just enough time to rescue her from falling down the steps, Markus appeared. “You need to sit down for a minute, sis,” he said. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Making sure Nyemah was stable before letting her go, he held tight to her arm. “Joi can’t drink. Ain’t that right, Boss? I have to keep my basketball star healthy.” Markus flashed a winning smile, and Joi blushed.
“A little beer never hurt anyone,” Nyemah said and laid her almost empty bottle on the edge of the deejay table. She placed her cigarette in between her lips and bounced up and down to an old Nas hit.
“Pay her no mind. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Markus said and put his right arm around Joi’s small waist. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”
Joi tossed her lemonade in the garbage pail below the porch, grabbed her jacket and followed her man inside to his bedroom. In the bright light, Markus looked even more handsome, his naturally wavy hair and thick eyebrows dark as coal. Posed in the doorway, the collar of his button-down shirt was flipped up, his jeans sagged, and his Timberlands was without a scratch. He looked like a model for a hip-hop or urban magazine. An average height for a man, Markus towered over Joi only a few inches. Model Tyson Beckford was no match for her baby. If he had asked her to drink with Nyemah, she would have. Markus could’ve talked her into almost anything.
Joi admired Markus’s new dwelling. Now that he had his own place, the two of them would have more time together alone.
Markus had decorated his room similar to what his dorm room had been, same black and grey color scheme, same position of the furniture, and same framed pictures.
Joi walked over to his window and tripped over a blue Burberry knapsack. “This is cute,” she said, picking it up from the floor. “I’ve never seen a blue one.” She placed the bag on the closet doorknob. “Where you’d get it?”
“It was a gift,” he answered. “You okay?”
Her nervousness must have been apparent. “I’m fine. Why?”
Markus shut and locked the door then walked over to her. “I saw the way you looked at Nyemah,” he replied and kissed Joi’s cheek.
“She’s interesting.”
“She’s cool,” Markus replied and sat down on his bed. He tapped the space next to him. “Crazy, but cool. You’ll learn to like her.”
Joi smiled as she sat next to him. His statement made her happy. It insinuated that she would be around for some time. “I heard someone say that you were going to be a guest host on Power ninety-nine,” she said.
Markus rubbed her thigh. “Yeah, I’m excited about that. I get a chance to showcase my skills.”
Markus gently nudged Joi backward, and she lay flat on the bed. Slowly, he positioned himself on top of her.
Going along with the flow, Joi initiated a kiss. Tasting remnants of whatever Markus was smoking, she turned her head away, and he eased up just a little. Joi turned to her side, and her top raised enough to show the tattoo on her back.
Although Markus had seen the tattoo before, he traced the words with his pinky and said, “This is nice.” Normally, Joi didn’t mind his touch, but tonight it felt different, more sensual. “We’ve been kickin’ it for a while. I think we might be ready to . . .” he stated and reached up the back of her shirt.
Markus didn’t have to finish the sentence. Joi knew what he was implying. Now that he had his own room, it was only a matter of time before they’d begin a more intimate relationship.
“You’re not ready for me,” she toyed and removed his hand. But the truth was that Joi wasn’t ready for him. She was still very much a virgin.
Markus chuckled low and kissed her again. “Are you on the pill?”
Joi’s eyes widened. “No.”
“I think it’s time you get some, don’t you?”
Joi didn’t know what to say. Perhaps his intoxicated state was the root of his sudden aggressive manner. Going on birth control was serious. She hadn’t even considered it until now. She inched away from Markus and stared him in the eyes. She was afraid to tell him no. With his good looks and charisma, he was bound to find someone to take care of his needs if she wouldn’t.
“Who’s Eboni?” she blurted, hoping the topic would dissuade them from pursuing the birth control issue.
Markus pushed himself up and leaned on one elbow. “She’s an old girlfriend. Why?”
“She goes to Saint Joe’s, too?”
“She used to. She transferred to some school in Maryland last semester. Haven’t seen her since.” Markus rolled on top of Joi again and kissed her neck. Softly, he spoke into her ear. “She’s history. You’re the one that I love now.”
Did he say he loved me? Hearing those words, Joi succumbed to Markus’s embrace. Although nervous, she caressed him back.
Eventually, the situation became too intense. Markus’s breathing increased, and his hands wandered into unchartered territory. Joi couldn’t have gained control of the situation if she tried. Jesus, she prayed silently.
Knock, knock, knock.
Engrossed in the moment, Markus ignored the pounding on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Joi!” Rayven yelled over the loud music.
Relieved, Joi wiggled from beneath Markus and said, “I better get that.” She straightened her clothes and rushed to open the door.
Rayven pushed her way inside. “I knew this was a bad idea,” she raved. “Guess who just walked in?” From the look on her face, Joi thought it might be Jesus Himself. Rayven paced the floor, stopping briefly to stare at Markus lying on the bed. She then looked at Joi, her eyes saying she knew what they were doing. “Linda is here. You know how close she is to your mother. What if she calls her?” Rayven asked frantically. “My soul’s going to burn for lying to my mother.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Ray. Did she see you?” Joi asked.
“She might have, but I ran back here so fast, you would’ve thought I was Superwoman.” Rayven walked briskly from one end of the room to the other. “God is trying to tell us we don’t belong here.”
“Calm down, Ray,” Markus barked from the bed, clearly angry that his mood had been busted. “There are so many people in this apartment, she probably didn’t even see you.”
“Let’s go,” Rayven demanded and pulled Joi by the arm. “Maybe we can get out of here unnoticed. We don’t have much time before my sister comes looking for us at McDonald’s anyway.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Joi said to Markus, praying he wasn’t too mad, but thrilled that their previous activity had ceased.
Carefully, the girls maneuvered through the dark room full of people. They were almost home free, until Wayne stepped in front of them, spilling some of his beer on Joi’s jacket. “Leaving so soon?” he asked Rayven. “Can I call you later?”
Rayven sighed. “I have to hurry. I’m going to miss my ride.”
“Get her number from Markus,” Joi interjected, and Rayven popped her shoulder.
“I’ll do that,” he yelled as the girls rushed down the porch steps.
When they reached the bottom step, Joi wrapped her jacket around her waist. As she tied the sleeves into a knot, she looked back at the apartment for the last time that night, and through the semi-fogged window, her eyes locked with Linda’s. Joi quickly turned around and pulled Rayven’s arm. Together they sprinted back to McDonald’s, not once stopping to catch their breath.
“Thank you, Jesus. We still have seven minutes,” Rayven exclaimed, panting heavily once they were safely inside the restaurant. “Whew, that could’ve gotten ugly.”
Joi didn’t want to tell Rayven that Linda spotted them. That would only send her into a panic attack. “I don’t know why you’re so worried. Your sister is cool. Mother is the one we need to be afraid of,” Joi told her.
“I don’t want to take any chances. Want something to drink?”
“Just some water,” answered Joi.
When Rayven went to the counter to get their drinks, Joi pulled out her cell phone and sent Markus a message. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t lost him for good.
Minutes later, he texted back: Call u n the morn. I luv u. Joi felt warm inside. Ditto, she replied back.
Yes. Thank you, Jesus. She prayed Linda wouldn’t ruin the evening by telling her mother.
Joi walked into the house a few minutes after midnight. Taylor was awake in the family room watching an old Denzel Washington movie. “Hey,” Joi said as she passed her mother and made her way to the stairs.
“Finish your project?” Taylor asked.
Not interested in a lengthy conversation, Joi simply said, “Yes,” and continued to her room.
“Joi?” Taylor called.
“Yes,” she said, holding on to the handrail. Joi feared Linda had called her mother.
Taylor walked into the next room and partially up the stairs. She sniffed the air a few times. “Have you been smoking?” Taylor moved even closer, and Joi backed away. “And drinking, too?”
“We went to McDonald’s after we finished working on the report,” responded Joi.
“You went to McDonald’s?”
“Yes, McDonald’s,” Joi said, upset that she had to repeat herself. “I guess I stayed in their bathroom too long.”
“You don’t reek of an odor that strong from being in a bathroom too long, Joi.” Taylor climbed one more stair. “I know you weren’t at Rayven’s, so where were you?”
“We did go to McDonald’s,” Joi stressed.
Taylor climbed another stair, separating them now by only one step. “I’m only gonna ask you one more time.”
Joi had never been hit by her mother, but something in the way Taylor looked at her said that tonight might be the first time. She backed up the next stair and stuttered through a different explanation, praying Taylor didn’t know the truth. “R-Rayven’s sister s-stopped at her f-f-friend’s house before b-bringing me home.”
“A friend’s house, huh?” Taylor asked, her face saying she didn’t believe one word. “Let me see what you and Ray worked on tonight?”
Joi rolled here eyes and whipped her backpack off her shoulder. It was a good thing she had something to show. Taking a thick blue binder out of her bag, Joi showed her mother the rough draft. “This is the report,” she said then flipped through some of the pages. “And these are the notes.”
Taylor snatched the binder from her hand and read the pages in more detail. Not yet satisfied, her eyes shifted from Joi to the binder several times. “Did you have something to drink or smoke?”
“No,” Joi snapped.
Taylor slammed the binder closed. “I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t have anything,” Joi said with an attitude, then called her mother’s bluff. “You can ask, Ray.”
“You knew you weren’t supposed to leave Rayven’s house. You’re strictly prohibited from anything unrelated to school until your next report card,” Taylor reminded her. “I don’t know what your problem is, young lady, but I’m tired of it.” Taylor threw the binder at Joi, and it fell on her foot. “Your father will deal with you when he gets back from Gram’s.” Fuming, Taylor marched down the steps and back into the family room.
Joi sighed with relief. Linda had not called; otherwise Taylor would’ve mentioned it. Joi glanced at her watch. It was just after midnight. I’ll be asleep by that time, she said to herself then picked up her binder and stormed off to her bedroom.