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The week before spring break has arrived and as usual everybody is giddy and anxious to get through the week. I feel like people are staring at me as I walk down the hall. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. People always stare at me.
Trevor walks right by me with his boys and they all look at me up and down. One licks his lips and says, “I like your udders.” Then they all laugh and walk down the hall.
Udders?
Jessa’s face is red as she approaches my locker. I don’t know if she’s angry at me or what she just heard. We hadn’t talked all weekend so I’m guessing she’s still angry with me.
“Clove, I hate to say I told you so, but I told you.”
Doesn’t sound like she hated to say that at all. I slam my locker shut and walk right past her and into the girl’s bathroom. Just like my first day back after Mama died, I go into the biggest stall and drop my stuff on the floor. I put my hands to my face and silently scold myself for being so stupid.
Giggling voices enter the bathroom.
“Oh my gawd, I heard she’s black and white all over. A real cow!” Tisha’s voice says. “I’ll be so glad when I pass Mr. T’s test so I can stop pretending to like her.”
Mama Jourdan was right. Tisha was not only being fake with her, she was being fake with me and JJ.
“What about Jonah?” Mars asks her. “You’re not going to still go to the dance with him?”
“Nope. Just need his answers for the test. We’ll just sit next to each other. I’ll get the answers and be done.”
“That’s a shame,” Mar says. ‘He’s such a good guy. Geeky, but good.”
“Then you date him,” Tisha tells her. “He bores me. Always talking about random scientific bullcrap. Stars and animals, weather patterns and God knows what else. He’s a dork and I’m done pretending. He’s got the highest GPA and all I need is his brain.”
I cover my mouth to keep from saying anything out loud. My heart aches for him. I knew Tisha was up to something, but I just hadn’t been sure of exactly what it was.
***
TREVOR DOESN’T SIT with us at lunch, but Tisha remains at our table and sits close to JJ, borrowing his notes for today’s test. With all the faux studying she’s done, she could actually pass the test on her own without cheating. JJ reads a book and eats an apple. Xavier is studying for another test for his class.
Tisha gives me a fake smile. “OMG Clove, I love your hair today. What products do you use?”
I don’t know how to respond to her. This is my first time seeing JJ today and I don’t know if I should tell him that she’s using him while she’s sitting here. Either way, I do have to find some way to tell him before our class starts.
Trevor’s ex-girlfriend, Christa, walks by me. “Hey Clove.”
When I turn to say hi, I feel something cold on my head and it runs down my face. It smells like chocolate milk. I shiver and open my mouth in shock because not only is it cold, but she’s messing up my hair.
Tisha covers her mouth after bursting out laughing. I don’t make eye contact with anyone else. Rage courses through my body. I get up from the table and shove Trevor’s ex toward the trash can. She loses her balance and falls inside the can. I expected more of a fight but she’s stuck, so now I’m just standing here with nothing else to do with my balled-up fists.
There are some “Ohhhh’s.” and “Oh snap!” Some people curse at the scene. I go back to my table and grab my things.
Tisha finally takes her hand off of her mouth. “Gurl, you okay?”
It’s a dumb question. I glance at the tray of her uneaten food, mashed potatoes and know just what they should be mashed into.
“Would you like me to take your tray up for you?” I ask, wiping milk from eyes. I ignore the look JJ gives me that makes it seem like I’m crazy. Because right now, I just might be.
Tisha sits up straight. “Sh-sure, ain’t gonna eat it no way. Just forgot my lunch ‘cause-”
I flip the tray into her face, cutting her off. The mashed potatoes stick and it brings me satisfaction. JJ and Xavier’s jaws have dropped farther.
My hair gets pulled from behind sending shoots of pain through my scalp. I’ve never been in a fight, but it’s on now.
I reach behind me and grab a fist full of what feels like Christa’s hair and yank. To my horror, her hair is in my hands. All of it hangs from my fingers. I almost freak out until I realize it’s a lace front wig.
Christa’s head is covered with a stocking cap and cornrows showing underneath. Her mood quickly shifts from humiliation to anger. I give her back her wig. I’m mad and in the middle of a fight, but I didn’t want the girl to be all bald and stuff. Before Christa can reach for it, someone pushes me from behind and I land on top of Christa. We tumble onto the floor.
Tisha knocks me off of Christa and misses a punch to my face. With the wig still in my hands, I slap her across the face. She lands a wayward jab right where my nose ring is. I scream in pain, flail my legs, and shove her head back with the wig in her face. Kicks, punches, and hair pulling is all happening at once. I don’t know if I’m fighting one, two, or three people, but I’m in pain.
Someone blows a whistle and I’m being lifted and pulled away. I can now see that I was indeed fighting three girls: Tisha, Mars, and Christa.
***
THE DEAN SENDS ME HOME and Dad’s not happy when he picks me up. I was planning to give him the details as soon as my nose and head stopped hurting but he hasn’t given me a chance. He’s going between talking to himself, me, and God.
“What am I doing wrong here?” Dad asks, driving with two hands firmly on the steering wheel. “If you know, please tell me. I’m lost. A fight? You got in a fight with three girls? You pushed one in a trash can and then beat her with her wig, threw food in another girl’s face, and what was up with the third one? Did she just jump in for the fun of it all?”
It all sounds kind of funny when he says it like that. Christa’s wig has got to be a tangled mess. Guess she won’t be messing with those cheap synthetic wigs anymore. I start chuckling but then it goes into a full blown laugh that I can’t stop. My pain subsides for just a moment as laughter makes me fold over, holding my stomach.
“This is funny to you?”
Yes, obviously it is. My laughter subsides and I try to keep a straight face.
“This ain’t funny. You must’ve lost your mind!”
I have. I think I’ve finally come undone. I envision myself searching a field for my brain, wandering aimlessly and I burst out laughing again. It’s all I know to do right now. In my mind, I’ve created a list of all the things that have gone away from me.
Skin pigment. Check.
Mom. Check.
Dignity. Check.
Friends. Check.
Mind. Check.
Nose ring...I touch my nose and wince. It’s gone. Check.
Dad pulls into our driveway. “Start by telling me what happened. How did the fight start?”
I think about it but, I don’t know where to start. If I tell him how Tisha only wanted JJ to cheat off of his paper it would seem like I was fighting for JJ. That’ll cause a whole different conversation.
“Christa poured chocolate milk over my head so I pushed her. I didn’t mean for her to fall in the trash can. Then she got out of the trash can and pulled my hair. So I pulled her hair. I didn’t know it would come off. I thought everybody who wore lace fronts knew to use glue and or bobby pins.”
Dad rubs a hand over his mustache several times and it seems like he’s trying to cover a smile. He’s gotta admit this is pretty funny. I continue on with my story.
“Then Tisha started a rumor about me that wasn’t true so I smashed mashed potatoes into her face. She got mad at that so her and her friend came after me. I had to fight, Dad. I had to. It’s like David and Goliath.”
Dad brings his hand up. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to bring the Bible into this now. ‘Cause if you were thinking about the Bible, you’d know that anger lodges in the hearts of fools. Ecclesiastes 7:9. As for Goliath, God is bigger than any giant. You’d know that if you’d quit skippin’ church.”
“Yeah, well everybody out here doesn’t know the Bible.” I shout. “Everybody doesn’t believe in the kindness and goodness of God! Why should I? I been going to church praisin’ God for what? So some idiot can drive right into my Mama!”
I get out of the car and slam the door.
“Hey! Don’t slam my door!”
He cares way too much about his precious, classic old car. I turn and scream something that I immediately regret. The impact of my words register on his face as hurt then anger. His hand raises up to strike me and I brace myself for the impact but it doesn’t come. I open one eye and see his hand held in mid-air. It stays there for a few seconds before going to his side slowly. “Clove, you need to leave,” he says.
I don’t think I heard him correctly so I blink several times as if that helps me hear.
“You need to leave,” he says again.
“What? Why? Where am I going?”
The first words out of my mouth should’ve been “I’m sorry,” but they weren’t. In this moment I don’t feel like apologizing especially now that he’s kicking me out of the house.
“You’re not going on the college tour. If I can’t trust you in town, how am I going to trust you out of town?” My dad says through gritted teeth. “Pack a bag and get out.”