Indigo Summer (5 page)

Indigo

I
actually fell asleep on the bus, and didn't wake up until the huge tires had brushed against the curb. I'd spent half the night talking to Quincy on the phone, and the other half sweating the dance team tryouts. When the bus driver opened the door, kids started knocking each other over to get off. As I stepped off, I spotted Quincy across the courtyard, and just as I was about to tell him to “wait up,” Patrice Robinson grabbed him by the arm and rested her head on his shoulder. What did she think she was doing? What's worse is he didn't seem to mind. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they walked into the building. I lagged behind, my backpack thrown across my shoulder, and my lip poked out.

“You wait until I see him,” I mumbled, as I made my way to my locker.

“Hey, Indi!” Tameka shouted, “Wait up.”

I waited for her to catch up.

“We have to go see if we made the team,” she said, and pulled me along.

She led me toward the cafeteria. A crowd of people gathered around the list that was posted on the wall. We pushed our way up to the front of the crowd, past the chatter and chaos. Tameka stood in front of the list, her finger scrolling along. I covered my eyes, too afraid to look.

“Tameka Brown.” She spotted her name and sang. “Hey…”

“I can't look,” I said, my eyes still shut.

“I don't see your name, Indi,” she said. “Hmmm…I don't know…if you made it…let me look again.”

I took my hand from my face, walked up toward the list. I had to know. Took my finger and slowly scrolled through the list of names, my heart pounding so loud I could hear it. INDIGO SUMMER. There it was again, my name in bold letters on the page. When I heard a scream, I thought it had come from my mouth, but realized it was Tameka.

“We made it!” she said, and we both started jumping up and down.

She started doing a dance in the hallway, and I followed along. Before long, the crowd started dancing, too, humming an imaginary tune until one of the teachers broke it up and told us all to go to class. Reluctantly, we did so.

“I'll see you at dance practice after school, Indi,” Tameka said, heading toward her locker, which was in the opposite direction of mine. “Congratulations, girl, we did it!”

“Yes, we did,” I said, smiling from ear to ear.

I couldn't wait to tell Jade. I had accomplished it for both of us.

Quincy was standing at my locker when I got there.

“Congratulations, boo,” he said, and kissed my cheek. When there was no spark in my eyes, he leaned back and asked, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. Didn't want to ruin my good news, by bringing up stupid stuff. Besides, there was probably nothing to Patrice's hanging all over him. Girls were always sweating the football players. And he was on the starting lineup, for crying out loud. Why wouldn't girls be hanging all over him? As long as they knew who his girlfriend was, what difference did it make? And once people saw us together at the Homecoming Dance, they would all know. “Just walk me to my class.”

“Heard you made the dance team, girl.” He smiled, and my heart melted. “I don't know if I can walk next to you, since you a star and everything.”

“Please.” I punched him in the shoulder. “You're the star. Got girls hanging all over you and stuff.”

“What girls?”

“I saw you with Patrice Robinson this morning.”

“Patrice?” He frowned. “She's just my play cousin. Her mama knows my mama.”

“Oh.”

“That's why you were acting all funny a few minutes ago?” “Something like that,” I said, pulling my math book out of my locker, and then slamming my locker shut.

“Don't start tripping, girl,” he said, and then grabbed me in a semi-headlock. “Lots of girls like me, but I'm with you. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” I said.

“Then don't start trippin'. I can have any girl I want in this school, but I chose you.”

“I know,” I said.

But that green-eyed monster, called “jealousy,” would probably rear its ugly head again. Going out with a boy like Quincy, I was sure of it.

 

Instead of practicing a routine, we did squats and exercises with our legs. I was confused; I thought this was a dance team. But we weren't dancing, we were exercising. If I wanted to exercise, I would've tried out for the basketball or volleyball team. Kristal must've been thinking the same thing, because she raised her hand and asked Miss Martin the question that was lingering on the tip of my tongue.

“What's up with the exercises? I thought this was a dance team,” she said.

“This is a dance team,” Miss Martin informed her.

“Well why are we working out like we're playing sports or something?” Kristal went on to ask.

“You don't think dancing is a sport?”

“Well…I don't know…” Kristal stumbled. “I guess it is.”

“It absolutely is,” Miss Martin said, and I was glad I hadn't asked the question, because Miss Martin suddenly got an attitude. “If you have a problem with strengthening your legs before dancing, you're free to leave.”

“I'm cool with it,” Kristal said.

“Anybody else got a problem with the way I conduct dance practice?” Miss Martin looked around at all the faces in the gym. Girls who were grateful just to be on the team. We weren't about to mess that up.

“No,” we all said in unison.

“Good,” she said. “Now give me ten more squats.”

 

After several sets of squats, we practiced our routine for the upcoming event, which happened to be halftime at the Homecoming game. It would be our first performance as a team, and we didn't have much time to practice. Miss Martin blew her whistle and we lined up in the center of the floor of the gym. When she asked us to team up with a partner, Tameka and I chose each other. Tameka was beginning to fill the void that Jade had left when she moved away. She was funny and had me laughing all through practice. And even though she lived in another part of town, and rode a different bus, we found ourselves trying to figure out how to get together that weekend.

“Ask your mama if you can spend this weekend at my house,” she said after practice, “and then we can go to the mall on Saturday and find our dresses for the dance.”

“I'll see. But my parents don't usually let me spend the night with people they don't know.”

“Well beg them, and plead with them,” she suggested. “Clean up your room first, and maybe they'll go for it.”

“Now that might work,” I said. “I'll ask and let you know.”

“Cool.”

“Who's taking you to the dance?” I asked.

“Jeff Donaldson,” she said, wiping sweat from her forehead as we both headed outside to look for our parents. “He's on the football team with Quincy. They're friends. You've seen him. He's fine, tall, dark and muscular.”

“Oh, yeah, I've seen them together,” I told her.

“We've been going together for about a year now,” she said, smiling. “He gave me this.”

She held her hand out and showed me the silver promise ring on her finger.

“Ooh, that's pretty,” I said. “What he give you that for?”

“It means that I'm his forever,” she said. “We're getting married after college. He's going to Morehouse, and I'm going to Spelman so we can be right here in Atlanta together.”

“You already know what college you're going to?”

“Yep,” she said. “We have it all planned out.”

“Girl, I haven't even thought about the college I'm going to. Senior year seems so far away, especially when you're just a freshman.”

“You should still be thinking about what you wanna do, Indi. It'll be here before you know it. And you need to start competing for scholarships and stuff as early as next year.”

“Please, I just wanna enjoy being a freshman right now, have a real boyfriend, and be on the dance team. College is definitely a goal, but I can't think about that right now. I'm struggling just to find where my classes are in this big ol' school.”

“Cool. Don't think about it, then,” she said, spotting her mother's black BMW and heading toward it. “You just think about practicing them moves we learned at practice today. And don't forget to ask your parents if you can spend the weekend.”

“I will,” I said. “I'll call you tonight and let you know.”

“Okay, but don't call until after
106th and Park
goes off, and
America's Next Top Model.
I have to see which one of them fake females is going home tonight.”

“My money is on Furonda,” I yelled. “She's the next one to go.”

“We'll see,” she said, and then climbed into her mother's car.

As my daddy's pickup pulled up next to the curb, I had to smile. I had a new friend. She wasn't Jade, but she was just as cool.

Indigo

My
mama pulled her Chevy Cavalier into the subdivision filled with beautiful brick houses and perfectly manicured lawns. I thought about asking her if we could park our car around the corner and walk the rest of the way to Tameka's house, but I knew she wouldn't go for it. Her car was making all sorts of noises that made me want to crawl into the backseat, and cover my head up. All that time at the repair shop, and it still sounded like it needed to be repaired. And no doubt it could use a new paint job. It was nothing like the BMW that Tameka's mom drove. On top of all that, I wished my mama could've chosen a better outfit than the old denim dress she had on; the one that she'd had since I was in kindergarten. I was embarrassed as Tameka's mother opened the front door.

She was tall and slender, and wore low-cut sexy jeans, and a top that showed a whole lot of cleavage. She looked too young to have a teenage daughter.

“Come on in,” she said. “I'm Melanie. But everybody just calls me Mel.”

Mama and I stepped inside. Their house was beautifully decorated, with warm colorful walls and expensive-looking African art. Although our house was nice and clean, it wasn't this new and definitely not this beautiful.

“If you don't mind, please take your shoes off,” Mel said.

Mama and I dropped our shoes at the door before sinking our feet into their snow-white carpet.

“I'm Carolyn.” Mama held her hand out to shake Mel's.

“Glad to meet you, Carolyn,” Mel said, and then turned to me. “I've heard so much about you, Indi. Tameka can't stop talking about you. Said you can dance your little fanny off. Is that true?”

“I'm alright.” I blushed.

“I heard you did your routine to 50 Cent's ‘Disco Inferno,'” she said. “Tameka said it was off the chain! You'll have to show me that routine.”

I was in awe that Mel knew enough about 50 Cent to say his name right first of all, and her slang was impeccable.

Tameka appeared, carrying two bottles of Fruitopia. She handed me one.

“Hello, Mrs. Summer. I'm Tameka.” She reached for my mother's hand.

Mama took her hand, and I could tell she was impressed with her manners. “Nice to meet you, Tameka. I've heard a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she said. “Mommy, can I show Indi my room?”

“Yes, if it's alright with Carolyn.” We all looked at my mother.

“Can I stay, Mama?” I asked.

It had already been established that her decision about me spending the night would be made after, and only after she'd met Tameka and her mother.

“I suppose so,” she said. “But you better behave and mind your manners.”

I knew what that meant and always made sure I didn't make people think I didn't have any home training. “Don't embarrass me” is what Mama's words meant.

“Come on, let's go,” Tameka said, and I followed her up a flight of stairs on the backside of the kitchen and down a long hallway to her bedroom, my tube socks making a squishing noise in the carpet.

Her room was decorated in pinks and whites, and posters of Bobby Valentino, Pretty Ricky and Omarion were plastered on the walls. Her full-sized canopy bed was neatly made, and her closet was so full of clothes and shoes that the door wouldn't even shut. She closed her bedroom door behind us and pressed the power button on her CD player.

“What you wanna hear?” she asked, and fell backwards onto her bed. “I have all the latest CDs…everything!”

“I like rap,” I said, and started looking through her stacks of CDs.

“I have everything by Snoop, Kanye West, 50…everybody…” she said. “My dad's a producer.”

“Really?”

“Yep, he's at the studio right now,” she said. “He works with a lot of local talent, and some famous people, too.”

“You have Ludacris?”

She hit a button on the remote that controlled the CD player and Ludacris's voice rang through the speakers.

“I like some stuff by Luda,” she said. “But I'm not much into rap.”

“Who do you like?”

“Usher, Omarion…Omarion is so cute!” She laughed.

“He's alright,” I said. “But what about Nelly?”

“He's definitely a hottie,” she said. “But I don't know very many girls our age who like hard-core rap, Indi. I mean, I like some rap.”

“Well, I'm not like many girls our age,” I said. “Everybody's different. That's what makes us all unique. If everybody liked the same stuff, how boring would that be?”

“I guess you're right,” she said. “I don't like all the cussin', though.”

“I don't either. I just listen to the edited versions,” I told her, and then lay across her bed. “I like dancing to rap mostly.”

“I guess.” She smiled, and walked over to the window. “Your mom's leaving.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I guess it's official that you get to spend the night,” she said. “You wanna go to the mall now?”

“Yep.”

It seemed that everybody from the south side of Atlanta had decided to visit Southlake Mall at the same time on Saturday afternoon. As we sifted through tables filled with underwear at Victoria's Secret, I suddenly missed Jade. Missed our Saturdays at the mall. From sunup to sundown, we used to shop until we dropped. Window shopped, that is, because most of the time we were broke. The money we did manage to squeeze out of our parents, was used for a bite to eat at the food court, a CD, a shirt, or occasionally, a pair of jeans, and not the designer ones. We didn't care about having money; it was fun just hanging out together. I missed Jade, but Tameka was just as fun. Even though our music tastes were different, we had lots of other things in common; like clothes, boys and a warped sense of humor.

We stopped at the nail shop for French manicures and pedicures, grabbed a bite to eat at the food court, and then hung around for a little while just checking out the crowd. We recognized many faces from school, and giggled as somebody's mama passed by with a head full of pink and green plastic rollers.

“Somebody forgot to tell her that you don't come out of the house like that.” Tameka laughed. “And especially come to the mall on a Saturday afternoon.”

“All she needs now is a pair of house slippers.”

“And a bathrobe,” Tameka said.

“Glad it ain't my mama,” I said.

“I second that,” Tameka said. “Your mom seems nice, by the way.”

“She's okay. She's really overprotective. And my daddy, too,” I said. “But your mother seems really cool. And she looks really young, too.”

“She is young,” Tameka said. “She had me when she was sixteen.”

“That is young,” I said.

“My dad is only two years older. They got married when they found out my mom was pregnant,” Tameka said. “Mommy had to drop out of school to raise me. And even though she went back for her GED, she never got to go to college. That's why I have to go…for both of us.”

“And that's why you already got your college all picked out.”

“That's right.” She smiled. “Spelman won't know what to do when Tameka Brown walks through those doors.”

“I hear you. But wouldn't you rather go away to school? Somewhere like UCLA or FAMU?”

“No, I need to be near Jeff, and he's going to Morehouse right here in Atlanta,” Tameka said, and then changed the subject. “Come on, let's go over to Macy's and find us some dresses.”

 

We shopped the Macy's clearance rack for dresses that would transform us into supermodels, like Eva, America's Next Top Model or Tyra Banks. We tried on at least ten dresses each, strutting in front of the mirror as if we were on the runway. Finally settling on the dresses that we wanted, Tameka called her mother to pick us up.

Mel pulled up in front of Sears, an Alicia Keys CD being pumped up. Tameka hopped in the backseat and I followed. Snapped our seat belts as she drove us to Applebee's for dinner.

“Order anything you want on the menu, girls,” Mel said, and then told the waitress to bring her a margarita.

“Mommy, do you have to have a drink today?” Tameka asked.

“It's just a margarita, Tameka,” she said. “I always get a margarita when I come to Applebee's. You know that.”

“But we have company today,” Tameka pleaded.

“I don't mind,” I said, not wanting to cause any problems.

“Do your parents drink, Indi?” Mel asked.

“Sometimes they have wine with dinner,” I said. “And sometimes my daddy has a beer when he's watching the football game.”

“See, Tameka, Indi's parents drink, too.”

“You're missing the point, Mommy.”

“Then what is your point, baby?”

“Never mind,” Tameka said, standing. “I have to go to the restroom. Can you just order me the chicken fingers basket?”

She slid from the booth and headed for the ladies' room. I peeled the wrapping from my straw and stuck the straw into my glass of Coke.

“Tameka gets so motherly sometimes,” Mel said. “She wants to make a good impression on you, Indi. She likes you a lot, and she doesn't have that many friends.”

“I like her, too,” I said. “And my best friend moved away at the beginning of the summer. I don't really have that many friends either.”

“Then you two should get along just fine.”

The waitress placed the margarita in front of Mel. “Here you go, ma'am.”

“You know what, sweetie? I changed my mind about the margarita,” she said to the waitress. “Can you just bring me whatever this young lady is drinking?”

“A Coke?” the waitress asked.

“A Coke sounds good,” she said, and then smiled at me. A cappuccino-colored woman, Mel was very pretty. She wore natural-colored eye shadow, and had relaxed shoulder-length hair. She and Tameka would look like twins, except Tameka's hair was longer and she had a rounder face.

I smiled back.

The waitress disappeared.

“Now tell me about this boy, Quincy,” she said.

I was shocked that she even knew about him. Tameka seemed to share everything with her mother.

“He's on the football team,” I told her. “Linebacker.”

“Hmm, linebacker. You like him?”

“I haven't spent much time with him. We just started going together last week.”

“Well, you just make sure he treats you nice, or you drop him like a bad habit,” she said. “You hear?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You don't take no crap off of him,” she said. “And he is not to touch your pocketbook until you're ready.”

“My pocketbook?”

Tameka slid into the booth, back from the restroom.

“Mommy, why are we talking about pocketbooks?”

“I told Indi that Quincy is not to touch hers until she's ready.” Mel took a sip of her Coke.

“What's a pocketbook?” I asked.

“You know…your goodies,” Tameka tried to explain, and looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

I still didn't get it.

“You're not to have sex with him until you're ready,” Mel said.

“Ohhh,” I said and then giggled.

Tameka started giggling, too, but Mel wasn't laughing.

With a serious look on her face, she leaned forward and said, “These little nappy-headed boys only want one thing, and you can't just give it to them because they ask. Just remember that.”

“Okay,” I said, afraid that if I said anything different, she might pull her belt off and rip it across my behind right there at Applebee's.

“Mommy, you're drinking Coke. What happened to your margarita?”

“They ran out of margarita mix,” Mel said, and then winked at me.

I winked back.

She was nothing like my mother, who would never carry on a conversation about boys and my pocketbook. My mother, Carolyn Summer, avoided conversations like that. But Mel was open and direct, just like my Nana Summer. And I liked her.