Chapter Four

Seniors

“Summer came and went so quickly. I can’t wait. We’re finally seniors! I hope we have a few new teachers, maybe someone to teach English or math.” London was going on and on for what seemed like forever. She loved school, even if it was Central High.

“New teachers, forget all that! Girl, we’re seniors now, queens of the school! It’s our turn to be running thangs up in there. It’s gonna be a new sheriff in that motherfucker!” Kenya was too excited also as she thought about her impending spot as HBIC of the school. She was spinning around with her hands in the air. “I can’t wait!” Kenya was cheesin’ from ear to ear.

The girls had become a lot closer during the summer months. Gran had suffered a mild heart attack while she was at work and had to stay in the hospital for almost two weeks straight. The twins had to rely on each other much more for everything from moral support to sharing the responsibility of the household. It was then, even more than before, that they learned of the special bond the two shared. A little bit of maturity on both their behalves had settled in. If they ran into a problem, London figured out the solution and Kenya executed the plan, putting it in motion. They now woke up daily on their own and instead of Gran making them breakfast they in turn would cook for her. While the twins still hung out with their old friends at school, for the first time in three years they walked to Central together. Sometimes it was Linwood Avenue, and others it would be the side streets.

As the months started to go by and the seasons changed, so did Kenya. She just couldn’t help herself. As much as she was fighting her alter ego, she’d unfortunately slipped back into her old, wild, carefree ways she was so infamous for. School and turning in homework assignments on time had once again become a second priority in her young, reckless life. All of Kenya’s grades she struggled so feverishly to get up to par were rapidly falling, and lastly she returned to skipping class most of the time. She was heading downhill rapidly and nothing anyone said or did could seem to slow her intentions of being “not shit” down.

London, disgusted at what she was watching take place and couldn’t stop, blamed her sister’s spiral on that stupid foolish-oriented boyfriend of Kenya’s. London knew Ty was nothing more than a car thief clown who had dropped out of school in tenth grade and ran the streets of Detroit on a nickel-and-dime adventure trying to sell drugs for the next man when he could get put on. Like most young dudes in their neighborhood, he wasn’t smart enough or had enough game to have his own sack to risk getting knocked and going to jail for; he hustled to make the next nigga’s pockets fat. Ty, in all his ill-witted wisdom, was always busy putting different kinds of dumb, idiotic ideas in Kenya’s gullible mind. Kenya always had delusions of grandeur and escaping hood life no matter how she could do it, hook or crook. Engulfed by nothing but getting off Glendale Street and out of Gran’s strict and spiritual household, Kenya was starting to cut off everyone in her small circle of friends, even Allan and Carmen. At night she was either on the phone plotting the demise of her current lifestyle situation or sneaking out of the house to meet up with Ty.

“Hey, boo, it’s me, baby,” whispered Kenya as quietly as she could. “I can’t talk long. My sister is bugging out on me about my grades so I gotta at least do some of my homework.”

“Why she be all actin’ like a book gonna help you eat out in these streets? She needs to be trying to hook up with my boy. You know for some reason he dig her plain-Jane ass! Plus he’s paid, I ain’t bullshitting!” Ty cleared his throat after choking on some Kush. “He be pulling in major ends almost every day with these hot box cars we been getting off this lot and he got a sack of this good shit I’m blowing on.” He coughed once more. “For real, Kenya, seriously your sister needs to wise the fuck up and get some of this bread from ol’ boy!”

Kenya was beginning to get irritated and annoyed with his conversation and the disrespectful direction it was taking. After it was all done and said, that was her twin sister he was badmouthing and tripping on. Since she had an emotional attachment to him, Kenya didn’t pay much attention when he talked shit about her—she could overlook that for the sake of young puppy love—but fuck him dogging London just because he thought he could. He was going too far with his comments and suggestions and she wasn’t trying to hear any more of it.

“Listen, Ty, I already done told you I was on the clock with talking to you in the first damn place! Now I got a bright idea for your dropout-ass to process: why don’t you stop riding your boy’s nut sack so hard, leave my sister’s name out your mouth, and show me some fucking attention? How about that, nigga?” Kenya twisted her face up as she spoke each word like she meant it, and of course she did.

Ty, who always thought much more of himself than anyone else ever did, immediately got caught in his feelings, wasting no time going ham. “You know what? Fuck you, Kenya, and your stuck-up-ass ugly sister. I was trying to turn both you bitches on to some real game, but I see once again your ho ass ain’t trying to respect my gangster!”

Before Kenya had a chance to respond to that lame-ass bullshit knowledge he was kicking, he’d already slammed the phone down, hanging up on her. She couldn’t help but laugh. True enough Ty was her so-called man, so to speak, but he also was a little punk and just about everyone on the west side knew it. He was scared of his own shadow and here he was trying to go for bad.

Whenever they were at the mall or out to the park, he would always stand mute when this guy or that guy tried to push up on Kenya. Later on when she would ask him how come he ain’t say shit, he would make up excuses and try to play that shit off like he wasn’t low-key terrified of getting his ass handed to him on a platter. Kenya started to think, Why isn’t he just honest with me and himself and speak the truth? He could have just simply said, “Damn, baby, you know I ain’t say shit back to them cats ’cause I’m a coward and was scared that nigga was gonna chin check me.”

She almost fell on the floor from laughing so hard at the sheer thought. Tears were rolling down her cheeks from thinking about that entire crazy scenario playing itself out. He’d call back tomorrow, begging as usual. He always did. “Different day, same idiot,” she said out loud. When she finally looked up, Kenya saw her sister looking at her, shaking her head.

“I hope that you’re still laughing when you get your grades at the end of this semester,” nagged London in a maternal tone.

Kenya opted not to let her sister in on the joke she found so hilarious. “Yes, Mom, I got you. I’m about to hit the books now.”

The school year seemed to drag on for what seemed like forever and a day. Ironically both girls were growing bored with school and what it had to offer. London, the smartest book-wise, had received the highest GPA semester after semester. She was top of her class in every honor class they offered and that still was not enough to challenge her brain. The devoted scholar often let her mind roam about what the next year would be about and how college campus life would be. London was more than ready to graduate and leave for the university of her choice on a full scholarship. Most of her teachers were incompetent in her eyes and were going to be happy to see her cross that stage. London had this thing for correcting the teachers so much they should have paid her to teach the class. There was no question, hands down, as to who the valedictorian would be that school year: Ms. Amia London Roberts.

Meanwhile, on the other hand, Ms. Amoya Kenya Roberts was also making a name for herself at Central High School. Of course, the self-proclaimed diva was named both homecoming queen and prom queen. That was expected because she was always fly and sociable with her peers. Not to mention after all the flirting she did, every boy at school voted for her, hoping for a date or at least the attention she gave them during the election process. Kenya was also voted “class smile,” “class legs,” “class body,” and what shocked even Kenya was that she, not her academically industrious twin London, was voted most likely to succeed! However, the question that swam in London’s mind was, Succeed at what?