I pulled out my Pops’ free phone. Why couldn’t Pops keep this food stamp phone and let me keep his Cricket phone? Anyway, he didn’t, so I was stuck with a useless phone that I kept out of sight from my friends. Everyone knew that these free phones all looked the same, and I wasn’t going to be caught with it and be embarrassed. I don’t know how Pops managed to get one because we weren’t on food stamps. And from what I know about ‘em, that’s the way people get ‘em. I looked at the phone and checked to see what time it was. That was about all it was good for, keeping time.
Fifteen more minutes and I was out of this joint. Another end of a boring school day. I struck out walking toward Nyla’s school to pick her up. Usually we went and hung out at the library, which was a couple of blocks from her school, until Pops came to get us, but tonight I had a basketball game so I didn’t know what I was going to do with her. I went and picked her up and then I had to hurry up and get back to school. Most of the time, Pops was there to get her on the evenings when I had a game. And, now, he needed to hurry and come get her before I got in trouble with Coach. Almost as soon as I walked in the gym with Nyla, I saw Coach Byrd.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Coach came up and asked me. Coach was six nine, had a pouch for a belly, and always wore a Fairley High Bulldog cap. He was blacker than midnight and sported a shiny bald head underneath his cap. His voice was brutally harsh and no matter how calm he may have been, he always sounded like he was ready to explode at any given minute. He got drafted to the NBA back in the day, and played a couple of seasons for the Portland Trailblazers, until he tore his Achilles tendon and that ended his career. Anyway, Coach looked like he was about to go off. Pops had promised he was going to be here to pick up Nyla in time but he hadn’t gotten here yet. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was scared that I might get put on the bench for bringing Nyla with me.
“Coach, I’m sorry, but my Pops had to work late.” Another lie, but what was I was supposed to say? Man, Pops was ruining my life! “He ought to be here in a minute,” I tried explaining.
“Hey there, pretty girl,” Coach said to Nyla. He patted her on top of the head, then smiled at her before he turned back toward me. “I guess you’re going to be sitting on the bench tonight ‘cause this right here ain’t gonna work.” Coach rolled his eyes at me and walked off.
“Nyl, I’m hungry,” Nyla started her whining.
“Shut up, will you? Just shut up. You already got me in trouble,” I yelled at her and stormed out of the gym with her running behind me crying. This was so unfair and so embarrassing.
What was I going to do? I had to find somebody to watch Nyla until Pops came. She was holding me back, she was another unwanted responsibility Pops had put on me. I know he has to work, but I have things to do too, other than babysit my little sister. What about my life? What about the things I’m missing out on? Pops was the adult in this three-person family. Why did he put this off on me? And why won’t he just come on out and tell my aunt and uncle that we’re homeless? Yeah, they live out of town in Chicago, but still, they could probably help Pops out, maybe even help us get a spot so we won’t have to be sleeping in a dang Yukon! He said that my Aunt Barb and my Uncle Joe had sent him some money before school started back to help him make ends meet, but that’s the last I ever heard him talk about them. Why couldn’t he ask them again? He had this thing that what goes in our family circle stays in our family circle. Well, what I don’t get is why he won’t tell them we don’t have a place to live? I mean, dang…wouldn’t they be considered as part of the family circle? Sometimes Pops just didn’t make sense. I wish I could call Aunt Barb and Uncle Joe myself, but I wouldn’t dare betray Pops like that. No, I had to stick with him like Momz would want me to.
“Hey, what’s wrong with your little sister?” Daisha Ford asked, walking up to me and Nyla. “What did he do to you?” she said to Nyla. Daisha was in my geography class. She used to be Randy Jones’ girlfriend, but only for a few months from what Zach told me. Randy was one of Zach’s friends, but Randy was a sophomore now so he didn’t really mess with us freshmen anymore. Guess he thought we were beneath him or something. I could care less what he or anyone else thought. I was holding my own by making a good name for myself, and by being one of the starting five on the basketball team.
“Nothing is wrong with her. She’s just being a crybaby is all,” I said and looked at Nyla. I was so mad at her for acting like a baby. All of her unnecessary crying needed to stop.
“I’m hungry.” Nyla kept crying.
Daisha looked at me like I was the meanest big brother in the world.
“Your little sister says she’s hungry. Aren’t you going to get her something to eat? The candy lady is right across the street from the school, you know. You can go get her some candy, a pickle, or something.”
“I don’t have time to take her to the candy lady. Plus, I don’t have any money on me. She can wait until our Pops comes to get her.” I looked at Nyla again and this time I bit down on my bottom lip and squenched my eyes so she’d know I meant business. “You betta shut up. I mean it too,” I told her.
Right away Nyla stopped crying and started wiping the tears from off her face. I didn’t care about her crying; she wasn’t the only one who had to go without so she better get used to it.
“You are so mean,” Daisha said as she started digging around in her purse. She pulled out a package of red Twizzlers and gave them to Nyla. “Here you go,” she said. “You can have these.” Daisha gave me a mean look but Daisha didn’t know my situation; nobody did.
I rolled my eyes at Nyla when she looked up at me like she was asking if it was okay to take the candy.
“You can have it,” I told her but I wasn’t nice about it.
Nyla grabbed the candy out of Daisha’s hand and started grinning while she stuffed one of the twizzlers in her mouth.
If I compare Sierra and Daisha, I would say that Daisha is way different from Sierra. Sierra is popular, always wants attention, and she’s super super smart. And of course, she’s pretty. Daisha, well, she isn’t as pretty as Sierra, not as smart, or popular like Sierra, but she’s still got it going on in her own way. Daisha is short and sorta chunky while Sierra has a shape that’s sic! Ooh, yeah, Sierra James is a piece of work. Let’s see what else: oh, yeah Daisha has short black hair, but I like it. She wears it in a curly natural style. Her skin is dark like chocolate, the total opposite of Sierra’s light beige skin. Daisha has been checked and teased about her dark complexion, but she doesn’t let it get next to her. She acts like she’s proud of who she is and has no problem with what the other kids think. She has big shapely legs and her titties are nice too. I guess you can say there’s nothing about Daisha Ford that I don’t like. Well, there is one thing – she looks nothing like Rihanna.
Daisha wears eyeglasses and she always like to run up on somebody to try and scare them. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I think I like Daisha but not as much as I like Sierra. But right now, I can’t do anything about either one of ‘em.
Daisha said she has seven sisters and brothers, some older and some younger than her, so she’s used to kids being around, which is why I’m going to ask her to watch Nyla while I practice. Pops should be on the parking lot to get Nyla before I have to leave for my game, so I won’t have to deal with worrying about her while I’m trying to take the Fairley Bulldogs to a win.
I could tell by the way he acted that Coach was still mad at me for bringing Nyla to practice, but at least Daisha was there too. After I told her my Pops was on his way, she agreed to watch her until he got there. Daisha was cool like that. Anybody else would be laughing at me for having my little sister tagging along, but not Daisha. That was one thing I really liked about her. She was always nice and I never heard her talk about anybody like a lot of the other kids did. Maybe having so many brothers and sisters made her like that: I don’t know; I was just glad she helped me out. Who knew life for a fourteen-year-old kid like me could be so tough. Oh, well, I guess it is what it is.