My sister is at work. I called Blu like seven times. No way was I calling my ex. He’d probably think it was an excuse to see him again. The only person left was Omar.
“Just admit it, you wanted to see me,” he says, looking up at me.
Not. “That was just such an immature guy thing to do.”
“I said I was sorry, dang.”
“So I’m supposed to just up and accept your apology.”
“Yep, if you want me to change this tire.”
“Can you fix it?” I ask him, shivering. “It’s getting colder out here.”
“If you keep the flashlight steady, yeah. And I’m the one down here on the freezing ground,” he answers. “You really should learn how to change a tire.”
“That’s why I have triple-A roadside assistance.”
“A lot of good triple-A roadside assistance is doing you right now, homegirl.”
I didn’t intentionally let my membership expire. Senior year has been a challenge, with all the college applications, my projects, the newspaper, and now the protest. I really need to get my focus back.
“I wasn’t going to pay them four hundred dollars to change a frickin’ tire.”
“So you called me.”
“Yeah.”
“You know, freedom ain’t free, homegirl.”
“Ha ha!”
Something about the way he smiles and the left side of his upper lip curls when he says “homegirl” always makes me almost smile. An hour ago, Omar Smalls was grabbing my ass, literally, with his muscular fingers. Now those same hands are changing my flat tire.
“Why is it taking you so long? It’s just a tire? Jeez.”
“Stop playing all hard and just admit that you like me.”
“Random!”
“Claudia, you’re cool. And I’m cool, so I don’t understand why we can’t just cool out together.”
“Maybe because I’m chillin’,” I respond, wishing I had worn a jacket to the party instead of trying to look so fly.
“Real funny. It’s all good, though, I know you’re kinda feeling me. I could tell by the way you put my arms around you on the dance floor tonight.”
“I just did that to make Kym jealous.”
“And that’s why you put your tongue in my mouth the other night?” He looks up at me again, with the whole curly upper lip thing.
“I really don’t want to talk about this. Are you almost finished, Omar?”
He goes back to twisting and unscrewing, and we are silent for way too long.
“So you’ll be cool if I start dating Kym again?”
“It is what it is, Omar.”
“So you’re cool?”
“You can date anybody you want. Just remember it’s a two-way street, homeboy.” Why did I say that? Geeesh!
“Two-way street? Oh, so you are feeling me?”
“Never mind.”
“Homegirl, I left the party to help your butt out. I was hanging with my boys, minding my own business. So it seems to me you owe T-Diddy.”
“Owe you?”
“There’s always consequences and repercussions.”
“And what might they be?” I ask. Omar stands up, takes off his Panther jacket, puts it around me, then grabs my hand. “Oh, so now you want to be a gentleman. I could have frozen my butt off.” Please don’t try to kiss me again, please don’t.
“Anyway, stop complaining. I’ve felt your butt, and it’s pretty hot,” he says, and we both can’t help but laugh.
“First you snatch a kiss, then you grab my butt. Let me find out you’re a criminal.”
“A smooth criminal. Next, T-Diddy’s gonna steal your heart,” he says, not looking at me, which is good, because I don’t want my swoon to encourage him. “And then I’m going to carry it right here.” He looks at me, pounds his fist over his heart. “Homegirl, you okay?”
“Please, I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine, but are you okay?” Do not smile, Claudia. Do not. “That was e.e. cummings, in case you didn’t know.”
“I know that. His words, your words don’t faze me, homeboy,” I lie, and try to pretend like e.e. cummings isn’t one of my favorite poets and “i carry your heart with me” isn’t my favorite frickin’ poem. Ever.
“Then for the last time, please, hold the flashlight straight? You’re killing me, Claudia.” He smiles and resumes changing my tire. “You owe me one night.”
“What? Are you out of your mind? I already told you, I’m not going out with you.”
“Hole up, homegirl, I wasn’t talking about a date. Just a quick walk, tonight. That’s all.” I look down the street.
“What, like a walk around the block? Sure, no problem.”
He stands up. “Hole up, hole up! You’re getting a little too comfortable in my jacket, homegirl,” he says. I look down at the jacket. When did all the buttons get snapped? “It looks good on you, though.” I snatch his phone before he snaps a picture of me.
“You sure are dragging this out. Do you even know how to change a tire?”
“Are we going for a walk or not?”
“I said sure. Around the block.”
“The block is cool, but I really need to clear my mind. Only one place can do that.”
What, the mall? How romantic.
“Let’s go down to Folly Beach.”
“You’re still talking about the beach. What, are you insane? It’s the middle of the frickin’ winter. Not in this lifetime.” Omar slowly starts unbuttoning the jacket. His jacket. What are you doing? “Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“But we’re not finished. Hello!”
“T-Diddy is finished. Maybe you can get it finished next lifetime.” No he didn’t.
“Really, Omar? You’re not going to fix my car unless I walk on the beach with you? That’s so low.” He’s got a few more buttons to go.
“Everything is not about you, Claudia. I just have a lot on my mind with the protest and school and football. It’s just one little walk.”
“You can walk by yourself.”
“I could, but I don’t have a ride. I need to get Willie his car back like ASAP.”
“Who goes walking on the beach in January? That’s just crazy.”
“Be in the now, Claudia,” quoting something I heard Clyfe say once.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him. Not.
I guess he doesn’t want to really piss me off, because he leaves the jacket intact and gets back down on his knees. I’m not a shallow girl, but watching his arms jack up my car is, um, nice.
“Focus, please. Flashlight,” he says. “I got a question. What happens if we get suspended?”
“They can’t suspend the whole student body.”
“True.”
“Plus, we’re not really causing trouble or breaking rules. This silent protest is really quite clever.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing when I came up with the idea,” he says, and looks up at me, smiling again. I can’t help but smile back.
“You didn’t come up with the idea.”
“Uh, yeah, I did.”
“I take it you’ve never heard of Gene Sharp.”
“Who?”
“We learned about him in government class. Civil disobedience, nonviolent stuff.”
“You mean Dr. King,” he says.
“Yeah, but Dr. King actually learned nonviolence from Gene Sharp.”
“Well, I’d love to listen to your little lecture, professor, but I’m done. Spare tire is on.”
“Great.”
“Don’t ride too far on this spare,” he says, packing all of my tools and my busted tire in the trunk.
“I’m going out of town tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, sounding like my father.
“I’m going to mind my own business.”
“My bad, I was just wondering because you should probably get the tire fixed and take this spare off if you’re going too far. Take this joint to the shop first thing tomorrow, and see if they will patch it up for you.”
“Okay, cool.”
“For real, you gone all weekend?”
“If you must know, I’m visiting my aunt and uncle in Columbia.”
“That’s what’s up. You want some company?”
“I’m good. Thanks a lot for coming out here to help me, Omar.”
“Text me when you get in,” he adds, then blows me a kiss and walks back to his car. A phone rings. I don’t remember it’s his until I’ve already answered.
“Hello,” I say. Omar spins around, coming back toward me. A woman answers. Probably one of his chickens.
“Give me the phone, Claudia,” he mouths.
“Omar’s not here right now, may I take a message?” He tries to grab the phone from me, but I push him away. “Who’s calling?” I run to the other side of the car. “Lucky what . . . huh? Oh, okay . . . not leaving tomorrow . . . yes, I will let him know. . . . Why you looking all worried, Omar?” I ask as I hang up.
“Huh? Who was it?”
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t one of your hootchy mamas.”
“Stop playing, girl, and give me my phone.” He throws his arms around me, almost lifting me off the ground, and snatches the phone. “Who was it?”
“I had no idea, Omar Smalls.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Lucky Dog Animal Rescue.”
“Oh, snap, that’s tomorrow. Dang, I almost forgot.”
“You volunteer with them. I’m shocked.”
“Whatever.”
“A lady named Ms. Williams—”
“Ms. Wilson,” he corrects me.
“Yeah, well, she said the dogs aren’t leaving tomorrow for Washington, D.C. It’ll be in two days.”
“That’s what’s up. Them dogs is my dawgs!” We both laugh. “I hope they all find homes up there in Chocolate City,” he adds, looking as sincere as I’ve ever seen him.
“Why you didn’t tell me you do volunteer work?”
“I didn’t tell you I can recite the Declaration of Independence, either.”
“You can?”
“No, silly. Be safe, I’m outta here.”
“Yeah, you too, Omar Smalls.”
Get in the car, Claudia. I’m standing in the middle of the street, still wearing his letterman’s jacket. The easy thing to do is to get in the car, go home, work on my physics homework, and eat ice cream. Get in the car, Claudia. Omar Smalls is a player and a playa. A below average student, and as shallow as dirty pond.
And he rescues dogs.
Omar starts the car and flashes his lights at me. He pulls up beside me.
“You miss me already, don’t you?”
“Whatever!” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, thanks for helping me.”
“T-Diddy knows how to treat a special lady. Have a good night.” He starts rolling up the window.
The easy thing to do is to let him drive off, go back with his boys, let some freaky freshman girl do the splits for him.
“Wait! Omar, wait!”
I’m afraid to really say what I am thinking. I don’t want to become another box for him to check off. It’s not like I like him. I don’t, really. I’m sure it would feel great in his arms. To walk hand in hand under the moon, yadda yadda yadda. Yes, we might have a connection. A thing. But I really don’t have time for any nonsense. Get in your car, Claudia.
“What is it, Claudia?” Nothing, never mind. “Well, it’s getting cold, homegirl. So just keep the jacket. I’ll pick it up when you get back to town.” He does the whole curly upper lip thing. Very smooth, Omar. Very frickin’ smooth.
“So now you’re just going to leave me by myself,” I say. “I thought we were going to the beach.”