Cameo (2 page)

“Now that I can complete my thought. … You can create an article intended to be used as a reference on an economic event. In layman's terms, for the breezies and homies, the article must contain facts from a book as well as an analysis, meaning some thought on the event and its effects on the past and on the future. Seeing as how we require some real content, teeny-bopper magazines could never be a source of inspiration.” He threw Carolina a smile.

Craig leaned against the lockers in the popular corridor. He was nervous. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his letterman's jacket. Michelle clanked her $200 Jimmy Choo–inspired knock-offs all the way up to Craig. He started to breathe faster. He looked Michelle up and down, wondering if he had made the right choice, though she did dress better than Nia—at least that's what the football groupies said.
That should count for something
, he thought. Craig was really feeling her
skin-tight denim shorts and her form-fitted, hot-pink Undercover Starlet™ hoodie. Of course, he hadn't noticed her matching shoes, handbag, and hat. What dateable guy would? Oddly enough, that logic eluded Michelle. She expected him to remember everything she had worn for the past three weeks. She went through painstaking lengths never to wear the same thing twice in one month, not even the same shoes.

“What did you page me for?” Michelle asked.

Craig shrugged his shoulders.

“This,” Michelle said as she pointed to her and Craig, “is a luxury
not to be abused
.”

“I wanted to holla at you. 'Cuz when we're together, you barely even look at me. Are you mad?” Craig grabbed Michelle by the waist and pulled her to him. She jumped back.

“Are you brain dead? This is an arrangement. Get that straight! I want prom queen, and you're the key to it. If you were listening when I do speak to you, then maybe you would know this,” she said. Craig's football teammate approached. Michelle quickly kissed Craig and slipped her hand in his pants' pocket.

“What up, Craig?” the teammate asked.

Craig had to momentarily disengage himself from Michelle's abrupt expression of lust to come up for air. “What up?”

The teammate stepped into his classroom. Michelle immediately pulled away from Craig and shivered slightly in disgust. “DO NOT do this again. Otherwise … it's over!” Michelle said. She wiggled her French-manicured fingertip in Craig's face like the wand of a wicked witch.

“You think I need you?” he asked

“Right, like you have options.” Michelle walked away.

He followed her. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he had a burning question eating at him inside. Why did she hate him? He grabbed her arm to get her to stop walking. It only angered her more. He could tell from her stare. Her eyes were laced with disapproval. She looked at him as if he were crowding her space.

“Why do you say I don't have options? I had a girl when I got you,” he said.

“What? Are you going to run back to Nia, the wholesome, popular misfit? That's a real good look. Besides, after me, she'll feel like a downgrade from first class to the cargo compartment!” Michelle walked away from Craig feeling like she had just trumped the senior king, especially since she walked away with his cell. Why use her own daytime minutes? She had to get something out of the arrangement, right?

Nia's mobile vibrated vigorously as Mr. Sui stood at his desk sorting papers with only moments to spare before his next class. Mr. Sui raised an eyebrow in Nia's direction. Embarrassed by the apparent disruption, Nia quickly took her cell out of her minuscule Undercover Starlet™ purse and hid it underneath her desk to turn it down.

“Students?” Mr. Sui said in an effort to test the class's attention, as he believed it belonged to only him. He waited until the class was completely quiet. “Pack up the sheets and go to the back of the room to get your partner's name,” he continued. The class moved toward the back of the room like a herd of wild elephants that had just spotted a watering hole. All except Nia. She sat there in her seat wearing an Audrey Hepburn–style boatneck white top and sleek, dark, low-rise, slim-fit jeans coupled with Undercover Starlet™ customized logo boots to match her purse. It had never upset her that Craig never noticed her outfits. There were many guys in class whose eyes glanced her way every so often to
catch a glimpse of her brushing her long dark hair over her shoulder or smiling at a funny text message.

Nia's best friend, Cindy, was a boy-crazed sexy mama dressed in black leggings one size too small for her curvy, size four frame and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that barely covered her derriere. Her long brown hair was flat-ironed super straight. Cindy was prettier than most airbrushed magazine models, considering her flawless skin, her large eyes, and her high cheekbones. Although she enjoyed pushing and leaning against some of the school's cutest boys in the senior-only crowd at the back of the room, Cindy made her way back to Nia's seat to convince her to join in the fun.

Nia checked the text in her inbox. It read: CCCALL ME!

Peering over Nia's shoulder, Cindy asked, “Who's that?”

“No clue,” Nia replied. She searched through the options in her inbox. The sender's number was private.

“It could be, like, a wrong number. This is why we should focus our attention on the cuties standing in the back of the room. Is it possible I am paired with someone as cute as me?” Cindy asked. Cindy grabbed Nia by the arm and dragged her to the back of the room.

“Oh … my … God! Nia and Jason? What has this world come to?” Carolina yelled. Nia and Cindy looked at each other. Carolina was their arch nemesis.

“That's what I think every time I see you,” Cindy said to Carolina, all the while confident she might've been lucky with the draw as well. Jason, the six-foot-four star basketball player who looked like a young Michael Jordan with a little bit of Dwayne Wade, quickly left the room.

Cindy rushed to the back of the room with a slight bop for cool factor; she always did things she thought were cool to impress the male population that adored her body. The crowd had dispersed by the time she reached the posted list.

Steaming mad, she whispered sternly, “Who is Roger?”

In the absence of a reply, she yelled, “Roger? Raise your hand now.”
You should only be so lucky to be paired with me
, she thought.

“Never fails,” Nia said under her breath with a smirk. She was relieved that Cindy faced as terrible a fate as her with this partner stuff.

A short boy, dressed in a red and black plaid lumberjack shirt with thick bifocals that made his eyes look like black-eyed peas, walked toward Cindy. To top things off, he was pulling a backpack on wheels. He waved at Cindy with a warm smile on his face.

“Cindy,” Roger said. He was excited to meet his new partner.

Cindy gasped. She threw her hand to her forehead and turned to Nia. “I think I might vomit. Am I flushed?” Cindy began to fan herself. The school bell rang.

“You look fine. Plus, I could never really tell if you were flushed. Your orange-peach blush overpowers any visible increase in blood circulation,” Nia said with a smile. She loved to tease Cindy.

Jason stood with the popular students at the basketball lockers discussing the basketball game they had played the night before. Nia and Cindy walked past to go to their lockers located two social classes down the hallway.

Jason tapped Nia on the shoulder. “Where should I meet you to start the project?” Jason asked, looking directly into Nia's eyes. Nia stared at him, surprised his kind could even make eye contact. But, to ease her disbelief, she resolved that his interest was purely to see if she dug him. After all, every other girl in school did. Even Cindy would've dated him in a heartbeat—if he asked her out, that is. Cindy only dated guys who liked her first.

“Why don't we meet at the library?” Nia said.

“Which one?” Jason asked.

“I don't know.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“We can meet at my house. My little brother might get in the way a little, though. He bounces off the walls,” Jason said.

“Uh … I guess we could meet …” Nia said.

“You a have suggestion.” Jason was surprised.

“We can meet at my house,” Nia said reluctantly.

“Where do you live?” Jason asked anxiously.

Nia shot him a concerned gaze. She was one of the prettiest girls in school. He was sure. “You better not be some type of stalker or anything,” she said in a semi-serious, semi-cute voice, so as not to come off as a narcissist. Narcissism annoyed Nia to the core. How could someone really be consumed with just themselves when there were so many other things in the world to be concerned with that could actually benefit people, animals, or the environment? Jason opened his five-subject spiral notebook to pages completely filled with actual notes and diagrams. He quickly flipped to a blank page in the back.

“Write it down here. I can be there at 3:30 after the team meeting,” he said.

Too much information
, Nia thought to herself. “Okay,” she said.

Jason and his basketball buddies watched Nia walk away.

“She's so stuck up, yo,” said Derek, a tall, blond jock in a basketball team anorak.

“You're just hatin' cause she's not checkin' you,” Jason said.

Derek's glamorous girlfriend and her junior class clique walked up to the basketball players. These girls were fiercely exotic.

“I know what you're thinkin'. It's not worth it,” Derek said.

“Oh, you work for the psychic network now?” Jason said.

“Yo, wasn't she Craig's girl like a minute ago?” Derek asked.

Jason shrugged, wondering how Nia could've dated Craig. He wasn't sure if it was just him or what, but it seemed like Craig could only string together one thought per conversation. “And?”

“Word was that she thought she was all that and then, boom! He dumped her for Michelle.” Derek and Craig looked at each other and cringed. Seemed like every dude knew Michelle was mean as hell—except Craig.

“Aye, you start the game on Saturday?” Vala, Derek's girlfriend's friend, asked Jason in a British accent. Jason turned slowly at the sound of her foreign-sounding voice to find a petite, curly-haired female beauty standing in his personal space.

“Yeah,” he said casually.

“Then I'll be there.” Vala smiled.

“Word. Where are you going to sit?” Jason asked.

“Behind you, of course! Do you want to know what I'm going to wear?”

There was that accent again, reeling him in. Vala whispered her under attire in Jason's ear.

“So, that's what's up?”

Vala nodded. “Might you find out what I can do in those?” Vala asked.

Derek pulled away from the public makeout session with his girlfriend. “Let's grab grub y'all.” The basketball team cheered. They moved down the hall in one large herd, like hyenas—insecure and degradingly silly, yet, underneath it all, somehow fierce on the social scene.

Vala grabbed Jason's hand, looking for a little lunch play.

“Let's skip lunch,” she said as she led him down the hall toward the girl's bathroom.

Vala jumped on Jason, and kissed him in the middle of the hallway. Jason's etched muscles contracted to hold her up. He was a fine specimen of a senior indeed.

“What is this I see?” Mr. Sui yelled from the east side of the hallway. Jason immediately stopped kissing Vala. Mr. Sui moved like a king cobra down the hall in his polished, black-leather shoes. Jason dropped Vala. She quickly landed on her feet.

“Stop right there!” Mr. Sui sternly said as he approached. “This is not proper conduct for students in or out of school. This may be a time when hormones are raging, but you must conduct yourselves with discretion at the least. You should act with reservation and respect yourself!” Mr. Sui said in shock over Jason's behavior and unaware of Vala, which made the situation even worse because that meant she was an underclassman. “What happened to respect?”

“Technology,” Vala replied smartly. Jason rolled his eyes at the embarrassing speech from his current teacher and Vala's antagonizing behavior. He directed his focus to the wall.

“In the Internet age, anything goes.” Vala stared Mr. Sui in the eyes, unafraid of his whole parental control act.

“I will see to it that you both break this up and walk in different directions. You walk down this hall and you down this other way. Get to class.” Jason and Vala looked at each other, unsure of what to do or say. In the midst of their awkward moment, Mr. Sui shouted, “Now!”

Damaged would describe the way I feel, literally and figuratively. By weeding out all the loser guys and waiting for the right one to really love, you think you're avoiding becoming one of those jaded girls—the girls who are cynical about love. They can't trust anyone. They think every move the opposite sex makes is just for the purpose of humiliating or hurting them for sport. Yet, somehow, I ended up becoming wreckage. I'm just what is left of a girl who used to believe in love.

Forever,

Nia

The doorbell rang. I could feel my heart start beating in double time.
I need to get a life!
The entertainment was here. I looked at him through the peephole. He appropriately had a swelled head through the tiny looking glass. I was hasty with opening the door. God, every bone in my body wanted to hate him.

“Hey,” Jason said. I tilted my head all until I caught myself gawking at him like he was a science project. “Going to invite me in?” he asked.

“The door is open … isn't it?” I said. He stared at me blankly. “Come in,” I said.

Duh! This guy definitely has some screws loose.
“I've been thinking about the project,” I continued. He turned and looked at me in shock. “No, really, I've been thinking about the school project,” I said. He nodded his head like he understood me. Girls usually spoke in code to boys like Jason. When they said “doing” a project they usually meant “doing” him. Kind of gross in a feminist kind of way. I guess he thought I was lying. Women are smart, not sex objects. We're not like guys,
who think about sex every five minutes. Of course, at times it seemed that no one had clued in the girls at my school about such characteristics.