Dear Diary:
My name is Devita Mae. I am writing to you because that’s what you gotta do in this class— write. It wasn’t like that at first. At first all we did was talk. For real. The teacher we had was old and tired, and when we wasn’t watching movies that didn’t have nothing to do with class, we chewed gum, talked on our cells or to each other, and got A’s for it. Then our teacher left. He retired. A new one came, and well, she ain’t sixty-three years old, that’s for sure. She looks sixteen. I think she’s twenty-three. And you know what? The boys wanna do classwork all the time now. Raising their hands. Asking her to come over and help them with papers so they can smell her perfume and play with her hair—when she ain’t looking, that is. And oh yeah, they’re writing papers all the time now. Getting A’s when they used to be flunking.
Diary, the reason I gotta do you at all is because of Jaquel. He was trying to impress the teacher. So he raised his hand and said, “Why can’t we do something different in this class? Like, I don’t know, write books or movies or something.” Dominique (oh yeah, she lets us call her by her first name) said she’d think about it. She did. Only now we have to do diaries (well really they’re journals, but I like diary better), and yeah, write letters to each other. I laughed right in Jaquel’s face when she said we had to write letters. Boys don’t like doing that. Only, when she said they had to—smiling and just about winking at ’em—they all pulled out papers and pens and started writing like they were signing million-dollar checks over to one another.
Anyhow, Diary, I’m not all that mad. See, the teacher picked me and Jaquel to write to one another. I like him and I’m hoping one day he’s gonna look at me like he looks at Miss Dominique Dumar Dupree. (Sounds like a movie star’s name, huh? Lucky her. She looks like one too.)
Well, Diary, here goes. Jaquel and me are supposed to write letters back and forth to each other for fifteen minutes each period, and write to you every evening for half an hour. Now you know what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna write to Jaquel just when I’m supposed to, and I will get to you when I can.
Nov. 1
Hey Jaquel—
What you doing?Dear Devita Mae:
What you think I’m doing? I’m sitting in this class with you doing what I hate—writing letters.Hi Jaquel—
Thought you liked writing—that you wanted to write plays and movies.Devita Mae:
Boys don’t like to write. But we like cute teachers. I was just saying that stuff ’cause when you do, she comes over to your desk and stands there smiling . . . wearing them tight dresses . . . looking fine. She make you wanna . . . well ain’t nothing wrong with having a pretty teacher all up in your face, is it?Jaquel . . .
She’s married.Married don’t make you ugly, Devita Mae.
Nov. 5
Hey Devita Mae Calloway:
Can’t write to you today. Gotta finish up geometry. So don’t write me back.
Dear Diary:
I’m supposed to be writing Jaquel. But he’s talking to Lisa, not doing math like he said. Dominique is at her desk, grading papers, drinking expensive water that I saw someone drinking on TV. She doesn’t see that the boys are talking or text-messaging people. I raised my hand to tell on Jaquel, but then I put it down. I guess he will write me tomorrow. So for now, I’ll just read the notes he wrote to me last time. They don’t say much, but I like touching the paper that he touched. Smelling ’em, because some of the cologne he uses gets on ’em after he scratches his neck or arm. That boy smells so good!!!!!!
Nov. 7
Devita Mae:
Those your real eyes? I say yes. Mason says no.Why are your letters so short, Jacquel?
Dominique said she will grade us on length too, you know. Guess what? I saw this movie the other day. The guy in it kicked this dude’s butt. It reminded me of the fight between you and Justin.Devita Mae:
Justin didn’t whoop me!!! That’s a lie people tell.P.S. I bet your eyes are fake. What else is fake on you?
Jaquel—
It’s not a lie when you see it with your eyes. Hey, I made a poem.Devita Mae,
A sentence is not a poem. Here’s a poem. I mean a rap song.Devita Mae
Got eyes of gray
I see them every day
But come night
What happens to her sight?
I think she puts them in a jar at night.Hey Jaquel:
Ha! Ha! U r so not funny. Do me a favor? Stop writing to me on scraps of paper that look like you picked them up off the floor. And WRITE ME LETTERS!!!! That’s what we’re supposed to do. I want a good grade in this class, so this is what we are going to do from now on. We are going to write our letters in this here composition book. That way things won’t get lost. Dominique said she won’t read every letter we write, just the pages we have marked. So, write me a real letter.
Now!Devita Girl,
What do you want me to write in this here letter? I mean, I thought I was doing things the right way. But you’re a girl, and girls are always trying to change us dudes. So I guess I shoulda known something like this was coming. The last time I wrote a letter I was 10 years old and at Camp Roaring Waters. My mother wrote me every day. Sometimes I got three letters in one day. I wrote her right back. Since then, I have written one letter—and here it is, so stop tripping!!!!Jaquel:
I went to Camp Minnehaha when I was little. It was right next door to yours. I cried every day. I wanted to go home to my mother. They weren’t supposed to, but they let me call her on the phone. And you know what? My mother told me to quit crying like a baby and go and have some fun. She wrote me every day like your mother did. I still have the letters. Girls always keep letters, you know. Do you have the letters your mother wrote to you?Dear Devita Mae:
No.
Nov. 10
Hey, J:
Answer me this. Why do boys lie? Earle said he’d call my girl Marlina. That was two weeks ago. How come he didn’t call?It ain’t your business. Mine neither.
Dear Jaquel—
Y do boys do girls like that?Devita Mae Eyes of Gray,
Just ’cause a boy says he’ll call doesn’t mean a girl’s gotta bum-rush him. He’ll call. . . . Give him time.Time? He had two weeks. That’s 336 hours. That’s enough time.
Why you care? U want him to call you or something?
Dear Jaquel—
Boys don’t know nothing about girls!!!Hey, Devita Mae.
Then girls should only date girls. That way they will always get what they want, and not have to explain stuff so much . . . and not bother boys and try to make us act like girls.Jaquel:
Here is what I’m thinking. Sometimes we can write long letters, other times we will keep it real short. Anyhow, guess what? I saw a girl on the bus the other day. This guy was staring at her, and told her she was cute. She licked her lips and said thanks. Then she went over to him and like five minutes later they was kissing— hard wet kisses. People on the bus kept staring ’cause they knew she just met him. I was like, girl you are nasty. Then my friend said, he’s nasty too, kissing a girl he don’t even know. What makes a guy do that? I mean, what makes him want a girl like that?Was she pretty?
Dear J:
She was pretty.Was she stacked, Devita Mae? Top and bottom?
Yeah.
Devita Mae:
There’s your answer. A cute girl you just met lets you kiss her—man that’s living!!!A nasty cute girl lets you kiss her. She might have a disease. She might do that with every boy.
Devita Mae:
I wouldn’t care if she did it with every boy, as long as she did it with me. Anyhow, who’s gonna turn down free candy?Dear Jaquel:
You are nasty, too.Devita Mae:
All boys is nasty!!!!
Nov. 15
Dear Jaquel Dickson—
My eyes are real.What about your hair? In the bathroom we bet sometimes. I bet that your eyes were fake, but your hair was real. My boy Reggie said it wasn’t true ’cause your hair is too long to be real.
Why are you and your boys talking about me in the boys’ room, anyhow?
’Cause when you are taking a leak, Devita Mae, you have to talk about something. Ain’t you sick of writing, Devita Mae? I am. So I made up my own rule. I will not write to you for the rest of this week. I will text-message this girl I met in Chicago last summer. See ya.
Nov. 18
Dear Diary:
The girl in Chicago is named La Donna. I hear she is cute. I hear she is smart, and that she’s got Jaquel wrapped around her little finger. My friend Florence talked to Jaquel’s friend Michael and he told her about La Donna. Florence didn’t say it was me asking the questions. Good news though. Michael did say that La Donna broke off with Jaquel three times last month. Maybe she will dump him again, real soon. Or maybe I will just steal him away from her. I am cute, you know.
Nov. 19
Dear Jaquel:
Your boy Earle called Marlina. He talked for two hours. Could you talk to a girl for that long?No!
You never had a girlfriend, huh, Jaquel?
Plenty!!! Got one right now. And any girls that call me talk quick! But you’re not that kind of girl. I see you in school—can’t shut up, like most girls.
Yo, Jaquel.
How come you checking me out?I gotta watch u. You sit across from me in class. Duh! Besides, dudes always gotta be looking. You never know when you need a replacement girl.
A replacement girl? You make her sound like an extra pencil. I would hate to be your girlfriend.
You would love to be my girlfriend, Devita Mae. Every girl wish she was mine.
Watch out, Jaquel. That big thing floating around the room is your head; too much hot air made it pop off and fly away.
Nov. 29
Devita Mae:
How come you missed school yesterday? Dominique wanted to see our composition book. I didn’t have nothing to show because you take it with you every time. I’m not complaining. I don’t wanna carry that thing around. But it got me to thinking. If I was at war, would I be writing letters all the time? I’m saying this because my cousin wrote my mother recently. He is overseas. He told her he writes his mother every day, and he writes his girlfriend twice a day. He’s a hard core dude. . . . Would kill you if you looked at him crooked. I told my dad the war made him soft as butter, writing all them letters, crying ’bout how hard it is over there. My father said, let’s see what happens if you go to war. He told me I would be writing so many letters my fingertips would start to crack. “War scares the words right outta you,” he told me. I got to thinking about the letters we write here. Guess my cousin wouldn’t complain none, if all he had to do is sit in class writing to some girl. Beats getting shot at, I guess.Hey, Jaquel.
I think it’s romantic, him writing his girlfriend twice a day. Think about it. He’s at war and all he’s got to do is think and dream about her. I bet he kisses her picture every night before he goes to bed. I bet he talks to it and carries it in his pocket while he’s fighting the enemy. I want a guy like that.Devita Mae:
You watch too many movies!!!
Dec. 3
Dear Jaquel—
Thank you for telling me about your family. Now I will tell you about mine. I am the oldest. Know what that means? I do all of the work, and get all of the blame. At home I watch movies a lot . . . read a bunch too. My mom and dad both work at the same job and do all the same things together, like cooking, gardening, and roller skating. When I grow up, that’s what I want—someone I can do everything with.Hey you:
I am tired today so I am not gonna write all that much. My mom and dad have been married for 15 years. Know what that means? I was born before they got the marriage license, ha, ha. I want a pretty wife. My dad says I better want more than that. But he’s old, so what else is he gonna say? But I do want a wife who is a good mother. And I do want lots of kids and I don’t want her to work. My mom never worked. I liked coming home from school and smelling cookies and snapping string beans with her. You remind me of my mother, kinda.Dear Jaquel:
You asked me a long time ago and I didn’t answer. So here goes. This is my real hair.I knew it! My boy Reggie owes me five bucks.
Jaquel—
This is my real hair. I got more real hair in my bottom drawer at home. I never buy the cheap stuff; it itches. Ha! Ha! Pay Reggie what you owe him.That’s jive. See, boys don’t know if a girl is real, plastic, or made out of wood. Why I want to spend four hours talking on the phone to a girl with fake eyes, fake nails, fake hair, and a fake chest?
Blame boys. If a girl is just her own plain self, you all don’t give her any play.
Devita Mae Girl:
You gotta look good for me.Dear Jaquel—
R u cute?U know it. Do you think I’m cute?
You know it. What about me? You like what you see?
Yeah. I like what I see.
Hey J—
Do boys have fake parts?No! But we fake it sometimes.
Hmmm. How?
If we like you, we act like we don’t. If we want to call you, we play it cool and wait a few days before we do. And if we don’t like you all that much, but like how you look, we fake it—go out with you anyhow until we get you to do like we want.
Jaquel:
Don’t take this the wrong way, but you and me . . . we would make pretty babies.Devita Mae Calloway:
Don’t mention no babies to me! I got things to do once I graduate . . . like party in college and go to grad school for my Master’s in business and open my own record company. But you right about one thing—I’m gonna make some pretty babies!! ’Cause I’m fine like that. But ain’t no babies coming here till I’m done with my fun, done with school, and making big money.P.S. There’s some pretty babies in you too. Guess you got it like that.
Dec. 5
Dear J.
What you do on the weekends?Watch TV. Play Football. Eat. Eat. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Oh yeah, when I ain’t doing those things, I’m a junior fireman. Making the world safe. Ha, ha.
You probably start more fires than you put out. Me, I work in a bathroom at a club downtown.
Flushing toilets? Mopping floors? Gotta pay for that weave, huh?
Very funny, Jaquel.
I don’t do toilets. I sell candy, mints, and mouthwash. Stuff like that. People give me big tips. Oh yeah, I give ’em warm washcloths for their hands.Devita Mae:
Who wants to eat where they poop? And who wants to spend 8 hours in the john?Jaquel—
Saturday I made $50.
Who cares. Bathrooms stink.
You saying I stink?
No way, Devita Mae. Hey. What perfume
were you wearing the other day?
London After Dark.
Nice.
Dec. 8
Dear Diary:
We have been writing letters for over one month now. With every letter I write, I get braver. I ask Jaquel questions about the girl in Chicago. He asks me stuff too, like if I had a boyfriend, would I take money from him? If I had a boyfriend, would I tell him I would only go to the junior firemen’s ball with him if he bought my gown, paid for my hair, and sent me a ticket to come? Here I am, liking this boy, wanting nothing from him but to be sweet to him, and him be sweet to me in return (and that don’t mean buy me lots of stuff), and who does he want? Not me, but her: Chicago, money-pit girl.
Dec. 12
Dear Diary:
Dominique gave us two weeks off, ’cause the boys are complaining about all the writing we do. She made us read some of our letters to one another though. Dominique loves reading letters, and writing them to people. And she wants us to feel that way too. “You can hide behind a computer keyboard or text-message,” she said one day, “but the hand that writes with pencil or pen, always wins hearts, friendship, and love in the end.”
While she was teaching, Jaquel handed me a note. I laughed out loud when I got it. It wasn’t all that funny, but I was just so happy he wrote to me, just ’cause he wanted to. And before I thought about it I wrote a note to him, saying he should dump that girl in Chicago and take me to the junior firemen’s ball. He looked at me like he couldn’t figure out if I was fibbing or not. Don’t he know I’m the one for him? Can’t he see I like him, and I would never do him wrong? I wanna tell him that, Diary, but, well, you can’t tell a boy nothing like that. It would give ’em a big head and still they may not want you. When is he gonna like me the way I like him? Soon, I hope.
Jan. 23
Dear Jaquel,
What was up with you coming to my table and sitting with me and my girls at lunchtime?I was hungry.
Oh. It was nice having someone different at our table.
Hey Devita Mae:
You bring all that food every day?Jaquel, I like to eat. And I don’t want to eat the same thing all the time—pizza, fries, cold hamburgers. So I get up early and do my stuff right—ham sandwiches, potato salad, cheese steaks . . . sometimes my mom drops stuff off.
Girl, you did that sweet potato pie up right the other day. Didn’t know you could cook like that. Made me skip health class three times this week, just to get me some more good eats.
You let me know what you like, and I will hook you up.
I like a lot of things. Sweet things, mostly.
I see.
Do you?
Yeah.
You sure?
I’m sure.
All right, then.
Feb. 7
Dear Devita Mae:
This is personal. Don’t go telling your girls. Well . . . forget it. Girls talk too much.Jaquel:
I would never tell something you wanted kept secret.Forget it. I was joking anyhow.
Dear Jaquel:
My girls were teasing me yesterday. Saying me and you should be together ’cause of the way you look at me, and how you wiped the mayonnaise off my bottom lip with your finger at lunch. Not even caring if I had germs or not.Tell your friends to mind their business.
Jaquel:
You still with that girl?She is hot, so yeah, I am still with her.
Dear Jaquel:
Why would you want an out-of-town girl? Why not one right here?Maybe I do have one right here, Devita Mae. Maybe I got two girls, six. When you cute like me, chicks be giving you their numbers all the time.
You are stupid. Insensitive, too. Don’t write me no more today.
Feb. 8
Dear Diary:
Today I got on the phone and called Jaquel. I got his phone number from his friend. Him and me talked for half an hour. It woulda been longer but a book I read said a woman should always get off the phone first when she is just trying to get to know a man. My mother gave me the book. She said me chasing Jaquel wasn’t making him mine no faster, so maybe I needed to do something different. Now the book didn’t say to call a boy first. In fact, it said never call first. It gives him a big head. But, well, once I got the number I had to use it, right? But I did good, I think. I got off when I wanted to keep talking. That’s something.
Feb. 20
Dear Diary:
Jaquel dumped his girlfriend. Not for me though. He did it ’cause she was always out when he called, and she never phoned him back. I am glad she is gone. Now he will need a junior firemen’s ball date. Guess who that’s gonna be? Meeeeeee!
Feb. 28
Dear Diary:
I figured something out. Every night I talk to Jaquel, only I call him. He never calls me. So this week, I waited for him to hit me up first. It was hard, ’cause I kept picking up the phone, wanting to make that call. My mother kept saying that boys don’t like easy. “Make him work to get you. Act like you don’t care.” That’s how she got my dad, she said. So I am here waiting for that boy to miss me. But I’m thinking, missing me might take him a really long time.
March 11
Hey, Devita Mae.
Your phone broke? You can’t call a dude? I started to call you last night. But, well, something good came on TV and I watched it. Then my girlfriend called and, well, anyhow, I almost called you.You stupid, Jaquel?
Why do I want to hear about her? Why were you gonna call me in the first place? To talk about her? Do me a favor. Do not mention her name to me. Do not mention that you have a girl, period!Devita Mae:
Is it that time of the month? I bet it is. Otherwise, why you going off on me for no good reason? I don’t get you sometimes.Listen. I am your writing partner, that’s it. So don’t be asking me about my perfume or talking about me in the boys’ room or staring at my eyes. And you know what? I heard Chicago dumped you anyhow.
D:
Don’t think we turning this part in to Dominique, ’cause we ain’t. Anyhow, you were the one calling me, remember? And check this out—I don’t get dumped. I dump. I got it like that.J—
You take the book and keep it since you want to be like that.
Mar. 20
Devita Mae:
You are immature, not writing me like you supposed to and not talking to me when I step up to you in the hall, at lunch or in class. I ain’t worried. If I was, I woulda wrote you before now. But what did I do? Played games on my cell. I’m just writing you because Dominique told me she’d take my cell if I didn’t do what I’m supposed to. Hey. My cousin is coming home. He’s on leave. Gonna get married. I’m thinking, would he do that if he wasn’t in a war getting shot at? My mom asked me a stupid question last week. “That girl you write to in class. When you gonna bring her home for me to meet?” My mom likes to get in my business, so I ain’t answer her.
Mar. 28
Devita Mae:
You better stop playing around, girl, ’cause you about to not have no partner at all. And why ain’t you call me back when I called your place? Your dad answered the phone. Didn’t he tell you? And tell him for me, that the next time I call, don’t ask me all them questions. It makes me not want to ring you up no more.
April 4
All right, girl:
You think I’m gonna beg you. Forget it. I got me a new partner. Sharinda. She’s ready to step in and take your spot, come Monday. You know what that means? You got four days to get yourself straight. After that: forget you.
April 8
Hey, Jaquel. My dad is like that. If a boy calls my house, he tells them they gonna get shot if they don’t leave me like they found me when they first met me. He didn’t tell you that, so maybe you sound like you can be trusted. Thanks for calling. I liked talking to you. So your mom is still asking you to bring me over? I’ll go. But I understand why you don’t want me to come. And I understand why you would be mad that she hangs up on that Chicago girl and talks bad about her. It seems to me, you can do better. But I ain’t no boy. And I ain’t you, so, well, thanks anyhow for inviting me to come, even though you ain’t sure you want me to. I think I will say no, though. Too many things to do.
April 10
Dear Jaquel:
I saw a show the other day. A man wrote love letters to a woman in another country for two years without getting one back. He didn’t know if she was alive or dead. But he kept writing. I never got a love letter before. Girls like those.Dear Devita Mae:
Y u telling me this? I ain’t your boyfriend. Get him to write you a love letter. Bad enough I have to write u at all. Well not u, but bad enough I have to do this assignment. I hate this. Guys hate to write.Dear Jaquel— You suck!
Do you always have to have your way, Devita Mae? I would never write a love letter to a girl. But if I ever did, I would have to tell her to burn them after she read them. Boys don’t want things like that getting around.
Dear Jaquel—
That’s romantic. Get a love note. Read it. Memorize it. Burn it. Save the ashes.Why would u wanna save dust?
Dear J—
What kind of paper would you write a love letter on?Dear DM:
I wouldn’t write a love letter. But if I did, I’d use what I had—paper bags, notebook paper, whatever.I want mine on pretty paper with roses on it, or pastel blue paper that smells like flowers.
See there, Devita Mae!
That’s why boys don’t do stuff like that! Bad enough y’all want us to write to you. Then it’s gotta be on good paper. Then the paper’s gotta smell sweet—forget it. No love letters!
April 15
Dear Diary:
Guess what? Chicago is history. She got dumped. Well, first Jaquel’s mom got on the phone and said her son wasn’t sending her money for nothing, so she should stop asking. I asked Jaquel how his mother knew stuff about him and Chicago. He said him and her talk a lot. I like that. A boy who is close to his mom will do right by you every time. Anyhow, that same night he dumped her, he called me. All he did was talk to me about her. I ain’t care. See, the way I figure it, one day he’s gonna stop talking her up and then he’ll see I’m the one for him.
April 22
Dear Diary:
Jaquel’s mother came to class. He forgot money for his SAT test and today was the last day to turn it in. She embarrassed him, too. She walked right up to Dominique and asked to meet Jaquel’s partner. We weren’t even doing letters then, so I wasn’t sitting by him. I raised my hand when she said my name. “I just wanna invite you to dinner,” she said. Nobody else heard. Jaquel turned red, even though he didn’t know what she said. I told him later on. He just shook his head. But he didn’t tell me not to come. So I came three days later. I never saw anything like it. The tablecloth was thick and white. The candles were long and pink, and they matched the flowers on the plates and the water glasses with the long, skinny stems. I sat in between Jaquel and his little sister, Janice. All the time I was chewing the chicken and swallowing the pink lemonade I was thinking, this is gonna be me when I grow up—me, Jaquel, and our seven babies.
April 25
Hey, Devita Mae.
Y are you mad? Did I say you was my girlfriend? Did I invite you to dinner that day? No. My mother invited you. I told you I liked the girl in Chicago. We break up all the time. That’s just how it is. Now we’re together. Stuff happens.Jaquel—
This assignment is almost over. When it’s done, don’t talk to me. And you know what? I hope that Chicago girl hurts your feelings real bad. Just like you hurt mine.D—
I’m sorry. Some girls just get under your skin.Jaquel—
I bet that Chicago girl is like the girl on the bus who kissed the boy she didn’t even know. Bet she is kissing some boy right now, and you’re here waiting for her to call you on your cell or go to that ball with you. Boys get just what they deserve, ’cause when you are mean and stupid, why shouldn’t bad things happen to you?
April 29
Jaquel:
I talked to Dominique. I told her we didn’t have no more stuff to write about. She said we can finish up early, and do silent reading till this is over next week. That works for me.Devita Mae Calloway:
Why can’t girls keep their emotions out of stuff? We don’t have to write about you and me. We can write about other things like that new movie that just opened up.J—
I thought you didn’t like to write. So quit writing me. This is my last letter to you. And while I’m writing it, let me tell you a few things. I am an A student. I am on the softball and tennis teams, in case you didn’t know. I am cute and I can have any boy I like, but I like you. Only, you know something? I ain’t always gonna like you, so you better figure this thing out quick. I’m giving you one last chance to choose me.Devita Mae—
You can’t bum-rush no dude. I got me a girl. You just my friend. And if you don’t wanna be my friend, oh well.J—
Oh well! Don’t write me no more. Don’t call me no more. Don’t speak to me in class. Don’t come crying to me when Chicago drops you like a pack of crackers crawling with ants.
May 15
Dear Diary:
Dominique says she is collecting our letters and diaries in two weeks. You know what that means? I will have to start a new diary. That’s the one I will turn in, not this one. Dominique don’t have to know all my business. Besides, I don’t want nobody reading my thoughts on Jaquel. He and me still ain’t speaking.
May 31
Dear Diary—
Guess what? Jaquel’s mother called me. Well, that’s not what really happened. I saw her in the store. She came over to me and asked me to come to dinner again. I said no. That’s all I said. It was she who said she was glad Chicago was out of the picture and that she always liked me best. Then she asked how come I never call their house. I told her I was not chasing Jaquel no more. She winked. Said that was good. “Sometimes a girl needs to step back and let a boy see what he’s missing.”
I liked what she said, only me stepping back hasn’t changed things all that much. Jaquel only waves to me. I told her that. Then she told me something I didn’t know. “Almost every night he’s got something to say about you.”
I didn’t believe her until she told me about how my father grills boys and how the other day when I raised my hand in class to ask a question, my sleeve pulled back and everybody could see I hadn’t shaved for a long time. That embarrassed me. “If he likes me,” I told her, “then he’s gonna have to say something. I am tired of him hurting my feelings all the time.”
I guess his mother said something to him, ’cause a few days later he sat down next to me in class, which he never does no more. And he talked to me. We both got a B+ on our project. Two days later, him and me were standing outside talking. He’s been nice to me ever since. There’s no more letters, just him and me talking, in person, on the phone, that kind of thing.
June 14
Dear Diary Girl:
Since I bought another diary to hand in, I wanted you to feel special ’cause we’ve been together since I started writing down my feelings for Jaquel. So I hope you like your new name. A lot of things have happened in the last two weeks. Me and Jaquel sat down outside of school and talked real good. He apologized for being mean to me all the time. And he said he was finished with Chicago. I was right about to tell him he was stupid for hanging in there so long, when I thought of something from the book. You gotta make a boy feel good about who he is. So I told him in my sweetest voice that it was her loss, not his. I told my mother the other day that I didn’t like that book so much, anymore. It never says what a boy should be doing for you. My mother says that’s what she and my dad are here for, to let me know that a boy should respect me, stop when I tell him to, and make me feel special by doing nice things for me. I didn’t want to hear all that, but she told me anyhow.
But, you know what? Jaquel was sweet to me that day we were together. He was standing so close, he made me sweat. And he asked me if I wanted to go a movie and out to eat on Saturday night. You know, I think he is shy sometimes. He was staring at his feet, almost the whole time. But when he did look up, and stare in my eyes, he kept licking his lips with his tongue, like they were dry. And sometimes he would push me, a little, with his elbow. I almost kissed him, you know. I almost just pulled him to me and kissed those big, pink lips of his for the longest time. Only I stopped myself. ’Cause I’m making him want me; not throwing me at him. But when we kiss, oh my goodness, the earth’s gonna shake.
June 15
Devita Mae—
We don’t have to write no more, so what’s up with the letters?
Jaquel,
I just wanted to thank you for taking me out. I had a nice time.D Girl—
You told me that.J . . .
I wanted to ask you something. Only writing it down seemed like the best way to do it.All right. Ask.
If u wrote a love letter to a girl, what would u say?
Oh God.
Just answer the question, please.
I would never write one.
’Cause you can’t?
No.
’Cause you scared?
No.
Why then?
Drop it. Y can’t girls just drop things?
Dear Jaquel,
If I wrote a love letter to a boy, here’s what it would say:My Sweet Jaquel, I like you. I think you are funny, cute, and got the sweetest lips. I like sitting next to you. You make me want to touch your hand and be someplace quiet with you. I think sometimes, “Does Jaquel like me the way I like him?”
That’s what I would write in my letter. What do you think?
Dear Devita Mae: I do not write love letters.
Oh.
June 18
Dear Devita Mae Calloway:
I hate to write. But you are back to not talking to me and ignoring me so here goes. I do not write love letters to girls. But if I wrote one, I would say, Dear Devita Mae: Girl, you are fine. And them eyes, man they something else. When you look at me and bat them long lashes, Girl, I ain’t saying what I be feeling. Cute is the best part of you—but not the only good thing about you. You don’t let me boss you—I like that. But you ain’t no dude neither, and you ain’t after my money. I can tell, ’cause you’re not all the time begging for my change. This ain’t no love letter, you know, but it’s a note. . . . Something for you to burn when you’re done reading it.Jaquel,
I like you a lot, and I am glad you are not the kind of boy who thinks giving a girl what she wants is a bad thing.Dear Devita Mae:
I like you too. But don’t think I’m gonna keep writing you after today is done.Okay.
Good.
Jaquel,
Maybe you could write me every once in a while, on special occasions, like on my birthday and once every other month.Devita Mae, Eyes of Gray.
You better burn them letters if I write ’em, okay?I will burn the letters and save the ashes.
Okay, Devita Mae.
Then I will keep writing you letters. Nothing long, just notes.Just notes.
Just for you.