Drama Queens Read online

  I dropped my backpack on the living room floor and made my way into the kitchen, which was lit up with several candles and my granny’s old oil lamp. My brothers—Jalen, who was eight, and Jaheim, who was twelve—were sitting at the small kitchen table with my grandmother.

  I groaned when I saw the pork and beans with hot dogs chopped up in them. My brothers, of course, were devouring them like they were steak and potatoes. I shook off my negative thought. I was in too good a mood to let this bootleg dinner and dark, hot apartment spoil it.

  I plopped down at the kitchen table, saying, “Guess what, Granny?”

  “Chicken butt,” Jalen said, his mouth full of beans.

  I rolled my eyes. “You are so lame,” I muttered.

  He stuck his tongue out at me, causing beans to fall out of his mouth. Seeing them, Jaheim busted out laughing. My brothers were so disgusting.

  “What, baby?” my granny replied before I could get into it with my brother. “Did you win the lottery? The way you came barreling in here.” She set a bowl down in front of me and spooned some pork and beans into it.

  “Not quite . . . but I did get accepted to college,” I said, waving the acceptance letter.

  “What?” she exclaimed, snatching it from me.

  “So, colleges are slumming now?” Jaheim laughed.

  I gave him the hand and turned my attention back to my grandmother, who was holding the letter up to the oil lamp.

  She squinted as she tried to read. “My cataracts are bothering me, but I sho’ can see the word ‘Congratulations.’”

  Even in dim light I could see the proud look on her face. She reached over and squeezed my chin. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl. You’ve come such a long way.”

  She was referring to the fact that I used to have a really bad attitude. She was right. I had come a long way, and I had the Good Girlz to thank for that. I had been forced to join after getting kicked out of my third school for fighting. That’s because I was a big girl. Not fat, but over six feet tall, and some people would call me thick. So I was always having to defend myself against somebody who wanted to give me a hard time. The Good Girlz had changed that, though. I now knew how to walk away from confrontation (for the most part, anyway).

  I heard the front door open and I knew it was my mom coming home from her second job. She was the sole supporter of our family. My dad, whom I’d met for only the first time last year, was a superintendent of a nearby school district, so obviously he cared about kids. Well, he cared about kids except his own. He sometimes helped me out financially, but the amount was nothing major. And my brothers’ triflin’ daddies never did anything for them. So, my mom was always struggling to take care of us.

  I raced into the living room just as she was setting her purse down.

  “So they went ahead and cut them off,” she said, motioning to the light fixture.

  My brothers and grandmother walked in behind me. “Yep. Don’t they always?” my grandmother said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” my mother griped. “These people know I have kids. They know I’m struggling, and they know I pay the bill when I get paid on the twentieth, and they won’t even give me a one-week extension. It’s just ridiculous.” My mother’s rant was also a regular monthly occurrence.

  Seeing the weariness in her face, I felt really bad. I wished that my brother Jaquan had been here. One year behind me, he used to have dreams of going pro in basketball and making sure my mom would never have to work again. Yet he died in a gang shooting last year. The sad part was, he was trying to stay away from gangs, but he made the wrong person mad.

  Watching my mom right now made me realize that his dream was now my dream. I didn’t know how, but one of these days I was going to buy my mom a house and let her retire in peace.

  “Hey, Ma, you want me to run you some bath water?” I said, walking over to take her sweater.

  “No, baby, I’m fine,” she said, removing the sweater herself. “Do I need to take you all up to the library to get your homework done?”

  I shook my head. “I did mine on the way back from PV.”

  “Mine is done,” Jaheim chimed in.

  “Me too,” Jalen added.

  “I forgot you had that college visit today,” my mom told me. “How was it?”

  “It was great, Mom! The school is tight,” I beamed, getting excited all over again.

  A look I couldn’t read passed over her face.

  “Was it now?”

  “But here’s the best part of all.” I took a deep breath. “They accepted me in.”

  “What? Get out of here.”

  “Yep! I’m going to college.”

  My mother gave a tight, faint smile. She wasn’t as excited as I thought she would be.

  “Aren’t you happy?” I asked, feeling let down.

  She walked into the kitchen without responding.

  “Ma,” I said, following behind her. “I’ve been accepted to college. Aren’t you excited for me?”

  She silently picked the oil lamp up and moved it to the counter. She removed a bowl, set it down, then sighed heavily. “And just how, pray tell, are you going to pay for college?” she said.

  I was quiet. I hadn’t even thought about paying for school.

  “I don’t know. I-I mean, I’ll find a way,” I stammered.

  “How are you goin’ to find a way? Rachel paid your application fee. Is she goin’ to pay for you to go to college, too?” My mother shook her head as she opened up the refrigerator. “I’m going to lose all my food,” she mumbled.

  “But, Ma—”

  My mother shut the refrigerator, took a deep breath and turned to face me. “Jasmine, sweetie, I want you to go to college, I really do,” she said. “I want you to have a life much better than me. But maybe now just isn’t the time.”

  “What?” I asked, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you don’t want me to go to college.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to go to college. But maybe you can just go to Houston Community College. If you work, maybe you can pay for a class. I’m just saying you don’t have to go to Prairie View.”

  “It’s not like I’m talking about going to Howard,” I protested, “on the other side of the country. It’s Prairie View, right down the road.”

  My mother sounded weary as she told me why not. “Number one, you would need to live on campus. Who’s going to pay for that? Number two, I need you to help out, Jasmine. I’m killing myself and it’s still not enough.” Her voice cracked. “The lights get cut off dang near every month. And I found out today I was laid off from my second job. So now more than ever, I need your help.” I turned away, discouraged, and she added, “I’m not saying college is out. I’m saying, I can’t afford it right now. So just try community college, at least for the first two years, and maybe things will get better.”

  “But all my friends . . .”

  My mother sighed in frustration. “Jasmine, what have I told you about that? You can’t go somewhere just because your friends are going there.”

  “What if I get the money to go?” I had no idea how I was going to do that, but I couldn’t just let my dream of college go up in smoke.

  “How do you plan on doing that? You plan on robbing a bank, doing something illegal?” my mom said, her tone getting firm.

  “Of course not.” I knew she was remembering when me and my friends got caught up in a shoplifting scheme. We weren’t stealing the stuff, but we did take part in selling it, even though we knew it was stolen. We’d gotten in some major trouble, and I definitely didn’t want to go down that road again.

  “I’ll figure out something,” I said. I’d even ask my father if I had to. After my short stay with him last year, which ended with him putting me out, I promised myself I’d never ask him for anything again. But this was worth making an exception.

  “Jasmine, if you can find a way to go to college, then I’m all for it,” my mom said. “I
will support you one hundred and ten percent, but I have to be realistic. I just don’t have the money. I’m sorry.”

  I looked at her, tears filling my eyes. I wouldn’t disrespect her, but I was not happy. “I’m going to bed.” I headed down the dark hallway to my bedroom, trying to figure out what I had done to deserve such a miserable life.

  3

  Angel

  Camille and Alexis were dancing around the room, singing like they were on America’s Got Talent.

  “Bout it, bout it, bout it, bout it,” they sang to each other.

  I was stretched out across Alexis’s queen-sized canopy bed, fit for a princess with its plush pink-and-black satin comforter and matching pillows.

  Camille and Alexis had been watching videos since we’d gotten to Alexis’s house an hour ago. It was a lazy Saturday. Angelica had gone with her father, Marcus, on a family outing, so I was all alone today. Truthfully, it was good to just relax and hang out with my friends and not always worry about my daughter.

  “Why do you have the music up so loud?” I said, looking up from the teen magazine I was reading. “I can’t even hear myself think!”

  They kept singing, ignoring me, and turned the music up even louder.

  “You are so asking for trouble,” I shouted to Alexis as the song switched to a Lil Wayne cut. Her mom hated rap music, and even though their house was gigantic and Alexis’s room was all the way on the other end from her mom’s room, I knew it was just a matter of time before her mother showed up.

  I was just about to say something when the door swung open so hard it hit the wall.

  “Have you lost your mind?” her mother bellowed over the thumping music. “What is that garbage, and why are you blasting it like you’re insane?”

  Mrs. Lansing had a green eye mask pushed up on her forehead and wore a long cream silk robe. She walked in, stomped over and slammed her palm against the television to cut it off.

  “Mom . . .” Alexis whined.

  “Don’t ‘Mom’ me, Lexi. You know better than to have that music playing in here, number one. And secondly, you know better than to be playing it so loud.”

  “It’s just Lil Wayne,” Alexis said.

  “I don’t care if it’s Big Wayne and all his buddies. It doesn’t get played in my house.” She sighed heavily. “I have a headache and—”

  “You always have a headache,” Alexis mumbled.

  “Alexis, don’t get smart—”

  “I’m sorry,” she immediately replied. Alexis was so polite, even to her mother.

  Mrs. Lansing took a deep breath, then, as if she just realized we were in the room, said, “Hello, girls.”

  “Hi, Ms. Lansing,” we said in unison.

  “Where’s your other sidekick, Ja . . . Ja . . . ?”

  “Jasmine,” Alexis finished for her, looking like she was really irritated that her mother didn’t know her friend’s name.

  “Yes, Jasmine,” she said.

  “She’s at home,” I blurted out. “She’s a little depressed because we all got accepted to Prairie View and her mom told her they didn’t have the money for her to go.”

  I didn’t understand the look of daggers Alexis threw my way. That is, until I heard her mother say, “You got accepted where?” Her eyes were fixed on Alexis.

  “It’s nothing, Mom,” Alexis quickly said.

  I groaned as I realized that Alexis hadn’t told her mother she’d been accepted at PV.

  “Don’t ‘Nothing, Mom’ me,” she snapped. “Does this have to do with your trip this week?”

  Alexis didn’t respond.

  “I thought you told me that you all were going to do some community service at Prairie View?” Alexis just stared at the floor. “Is that what you girls were doing?” Mrs. Lansing asked me and Camille when Alexis didn’t reply. We turned and looked to our friend, not wanting to sell her out, but not about to lie to her mom either.

  “Alexis, why did you go to Prairie View?” her mother demanded.

  “We went for a college campus visit,” Alexis finally said.

  “And why would you do that? There’s no need for you to visit another campus. You’re going to Cornell.”

  We both gasped in surprise. Cornell? This was the first time we’d heard anything about that.

  “Mom, I got accepted to Prairie View,” Alexis said quietly.

  Confusion crossed her mother’s face. “When did you apply to Prairie View?”

  “A couple of months ago,” she admitted.

  “Why would you apply to Prairie View?”

  “Because I don’t want to go to Cornell.”

  Her mother wasn’t putting up with any more. “Alexis Logan Lansing, this was decided a long time ago,” she said. “You were accepted into Cornell last year. Do you know how rare it is for a junior to get accepted into college, period, let alone Cornell? And with a scholarship?” Alexis wouldn’t look at her. Mrs. Lansing threw up her hands in frustration. “You know what, I can’t deal with you. Thank God your father is coming over tonight. Maybe he can deal with that foolishness.”

  She stomped out of the room before either of us could respond.

  Alexis looked so dejected. She’d done a whole lot of begging and pleading to get her parents to allow her to transfer from her elite private school to Madison High. She’d pulled the “I need to be involved in extracurricular activities” card since her private school hadn’t had activities like dance and cheerleading. Since she’d already had a 4.0 and enough credits to graduate, her parents had agreed to let her finish her senior year with us. But I’d had no idea that she’d been accepted to an Ivy League college.

  “So, you agreed to go to Cornell?” Camille finally asked after Mrs. Lansing was gone.

  “Yeah, it’s not like I had much choice,” she moaned. “I had to agree to anything to get them to let me come to Madison. But it’s messed up. It’s my life. I should be able to choose where I want to go.” She threw herself down on her bed.

  “You have a full paid scholarship to an Ivy League university?” I said, still dumbfounded. That was unfair. I mean, her parents could afford to send her to ten colleges, so she was the last person who needed a scholarship.

  “It’s a partial scholarship,” she said nonchalantly.

  “Whatever, free money is free money. You might want to go ahead and go to Cornell then,” Camille said.

  “What part of ‘I don’t want to go there’ do you guys not get?” she snapped.

  “Dang,” Camille replied. “Don’t bite my head off.”

  Alexis sighed. “I’ve gone to school with prim and proper people all my life. I want to experience some culture. I want to go to a HBCU and be on a dance team that dances to Chris Brown, not Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.”

  We couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alexis, you know I want you to come to PV with us, but maybe your mom is right. College isn’t about a dance team,” I said, trying to be the voice of reason.

  “I’m using the dance team metaphorically,” Alexis said.

  Both Camille and I rolled our eyes. Alexis didn’t want to let on that she was super smart. Though, when she made comments like that, everyone knew how academically advanced she was.

  “It’s not that I just want to be a dancer,” she added.

  “Whatever, I’m definitely goin’ to be a dancer at PV because those Black Foxes are off the chain,” Camille interjected, referring to Prairie View’s world-renowned dance team.

  I cut my eyes at her. She definitely wasn’t helping.

  “My point is,” Alexis continued, “I want to go to Prairie View. I want to be with you guys. It’s bad enough I have to deal with this stupid divorce, but at least with you all around, it didn’t seem so bad.” Alexis had been through the wringer these last few months. After twenty years of marriage, her parents had announced they were getting a divorce and it had torn Alexis up. She’d even run away from home with the crazy idea that her parents would be so grief-stricken that they’d get back togethe
r. Of course, that hadn’t worked. It had only scared everybody to death. Mr. Lansing had moved out anyway. Now Alexis spent every other weekend with him.

  “I hate my life,” Alexis groaned.

  None of us knew what to say. Of course, we wanted all of us to go to school together, but judging from Alexis’s mom’s reaction, her chances of going to PV were now slim to none.

  4

  Angel

  My girl Camille could dance her butt off. And as we found out a few months ago when she won a citywide talent competition, she could sing as well. For a hot minute I thought singing was where her future was. But watching her right now—the way she moved effortlessly, looking like she should have been dancing on stage with Jay-Z—I knew she had skills all the way around.

  We were standing outside in the courtyard of our school. The drill team was practicing for a big competition that weekend. Since we were graduating, this would be Camille and Alexis’s last performance.

  “Look at Alexis,” Tyeesha giggled, pointing to Alexis, who was trying desperately to keep up. She’d joined the drill team because she loved dancing and singing as much as Camille. The problem was, she couldn’t really do either.

  “She’s not that bad,” I mumbled.

  “Whatever.” Jasmine laughed.

  Alexis almost tripped as she tried to do a spinning move, and I giggled. “Okay, maybe she is.”

  “You know what I think it is?” Tyeesha asked. “I think she really needs to move away from Camille. She is so good, it’s making Alexis look bad. Maybe if she went in the back by that other stiff girl.” She pointed to a skinny cocoa-brown girl in the back row who was also struggling to keep up. “Maybe if she stood next to her she wouldn’t look so off.”

  I nodded. That was definitely what Alexis needed to do.

  “All I know is I wish they’d hurry up,” Jasmine grumbled.