Can't Stop the Shine Page 4

  “I think you’re gonna have to fumigate this car,” said Dewayne to Kalia.

  “Whatever, man,” said Mari. “You know you love my natural fragrance.”

  “If that’s natural, then you need to visit a doctor because that’s the worst body odor I’ve ever smelled,” said Dewayne.

  “Cut it out, you two,” said Kalia. “I’m serious. I think we should ask Elaine and Ronald for another vehicle.”

  “Now you know Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson are not going to get me a car,” said Mari. “They hardly let me drive with them. It so sucks that I’ve got to have like a kazillion hours of driving with them before I can drive by myself.”

  “I had to do it, and you certainly need the practice,” said Kalia. “I’ve seen your skills. Daddy is still trying to get the grass to grow back from where you ripped it up. Remember when you almost backed into the bushes? Ooh, he was hot!”

  Dewayne and Kalia burst out laughing.

  “Shut up,” Mari said.

  “If you get better, they might get you a car.” Kalia chuckled.

  “You ask Daddy and see what he says,” Mari said, twisting up her face. “That old cheapskate is going to launch into that story about how he didn’t have a car at this age and how he was able to do everything he had to do on public transportation,” said Mari.

  “And how we should be grateful that we have one car to share…yeah, yeah, yeah…I know the speech…but we might as well ask,” said Kalia. “Nothing beats a failure but a try.”

  “You are so corny,” said Dewayne to Kalia.

  “You can walk, ya know?” said Kalia.

  “Yeah, put his skinny butt out,” encouraged Mari.

  “I’ll put both of you out of this car, then you’ll both be walking,” said Dewayne.

  “I’d like to see that,” said Mari, thumping him in the back of the head.

  “Stop playing, girl,” said Dewayne, catching Mari’s arm. “See, you just can’t leave well enough alone.”

  “You better quit before I put my stank on you,” Mari said, threatening him with an armpit.

  “You win,” said Dewayne, letting go. “That skunk funk has the power to kill, but the Chosen One knows how to avoid smelly evil.”

  “Ahh, shad up. Hey, did y’all hear about that talent contest?” asked Mari.

  “Yeah, I heard something about Fire Records doing some type of show,” said Dewayne.

  “It’s supposed to be open to anybody in high school in the metro area. They’re going to have the preliminary contest in October when they’ll pick twenty people to compete again in December, where they’ll narrow it down to eight. Then the last eight will be in one more contest in March and that’s who they’ll pick the winner from,” said Mari.

  “You sound like you work at Fire Records,” said Dewayne.

  “I don’t, but that would be cool,” said Mari. “Hey, Kalia, you should enter.”

  “Umm, yeah. I’ll enter, right,” said Kalia.

  “That would be tight,” said Dewayne. “I could be your manager. That would be a perfect alter ego for the Chosen One.”

  “Shut up, Dewayne,” said Kalia. “I’m not entering any singing contest. They probably don’t even have a good prize.”

  “How did you know it was singing?” asked Mari. “I said it was a talent contest.”

  “So you heard about it, too, huh?” said Dewayne to Kalia.

  “I didn’t hear what you get for winning,” said Kalia.

  “Well, I think I heard something about a record contract,” said Mari.

  “That settles it. We’re entering,” declared Dewayne.

  “What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Kalia.

  “So you do want to enter,” said Mari.

  “I didn’t say that,” said Kalia. “Contests are stupid anyway. I’ve got more important things to do with my time. I’ve got to write a song for my music theory class and the chorale is doing Handel’s Messiah again this year. We’re going to be practicing like crazy. Plus, I just found out that a large part of my grade in my piano class this year will be based on me being able to play some really complicated pieces. I’m not entering a dumb singing competition, just to get all stressed out about it. Nope. Not me.”

  “Umm, hmm,” said Dewayne and Mari, both eyeing Kalia.

  “For real. I’m not doing it,” Kalia insisted.

  “Well, you’ll be the dumb one if you don’t,” said Mari. “A record contract? Do you know how great that would be? I’d be the sister of the new Beyoncé. Just call me Solange.”

  “Now see, that’s why I’m not going to enter right there. You won’t catch me shaking my behind like that,” said Kalia.

  “Shake, bake, whatever. Every time I see her she’s strutting like she’s on a catwalk or something, in Dolce & Gabbana, Armani or Gucci. And look who she’s with. Jigga is the ultimate baller.”

  “I thought you were a Lil Jon-T.I.-Ying Yang Twins girl,” said Dewayne.

  “I am, but ain’t none of them rollin’ like Jay-Z, okay?”

  “Right, right,” agreed Dewayne.

  “I can’t wait for you to win,” said Mari, returning her attention to her sister.

  “I can’t believe we agree on something, Mari,” said Dewayne, “but I think you’re right. I think Kalia could win.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Kalia, “but you’re wasting your breath.”

  “That is shocking that we agree on something, but we do,” said Mari. “Kalia, if you don’t enter this contest, you’ll be making a mistake.”

  “Good thing I’m old enough to make my own decisions, ain’t it?” Kalia said, huffing.

  “You don’t have to get all snotty about it,” said Mari.

  “Well, I told y’all I wasn’t doing it, and you’re still talking about it. Give it a rest, okay?” snapped Kalia.

  Mari and Dewayne got the picture. Dewayne turned up the radio, and the rest of the ride home was spent in silence, each one thinking of how they’d be affected if Kalia entered the contest.

  The next day at cross-country practice, Mari ended up being the pacesetter for the team. As she was leading them through a winding path in the lush green forests around the campus of East Moreland, she noticed someone gaining on her. Looking sideways, she realized it was, of all people, Asha Wright, the only other black sophomore at her school. When she reached Mari, Asha began keeping Mari’s exact pace and breathing. This had never happened to Mari before. It was kinda weird, and she tried to speed up and change her breathing a few times, but that was weird, too, because it wasn’t natural.

  “So what? You’re running cross-country now?” Mari breathed heavily to Asha.

  “I just thought I’d give you a little competition,” said Asha, quickening her pace. Mari noticed that Asha was not nearly as winded as she.

  “Whatever,” said Mari, speeding up as well.

  They almost killed themselves running the final half mile, trying to outdo each other. Both came flying down the last hill, arms flapping and legs looking like spinning spokes on a ten-speed. Instead of tapering off into a warm-down, each flopped out on the front of the gym steps, spent. Mari hoped it would go unmentioned that, if they were racing, she didn’t come in first place.

  “That’s quite a stride you’ve got there, Miss Thing,” said Mari, resting on her hands.

  “I’ve been running all summer,” said Asha, flipping her nearly waist-length braid back over her shoulder as she bent over stretching.

  “So you like these long distances? It’s just not my thing.”

  “They’re not too bad if you know how to run them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, get your breathing right, your stride right. My trainer, Pierce, used to work with Jackie Joyner Kersee, and he said the three most important things in track are being strategic, becoming one with your body and you’ve gotta have a lot of heart.”

  “Oh yeah. I’ve heard that before,” lied Mari.

  “Re
ally?” Asha smirked. “He told me he got that from Jackie’s personal coach, so I don’t know how you would have heard it.”

  “Well, you know I watch a lot of ESPN,” said Mari, lengthening the lie. She wasn’t going to let Asha think she didn’t understand what she was talking about. She’d already beat her at her thing. Knowing more about it would be unbearable.

  “Umm, hmm,” said Asha, rising to her full five foot ten. “I hear we’re running the horse trails tomorrow. I hate them. You never know what kind of smelly, unpleasant surprises those beasts will leave behind.”

  “That’s why you can have this cross-country mess,” said Mari, getting up, too.

  “Oh, I’m just doing this so I can run track in the spring,” said Asha, walking into the gym.

  Mari didn’t know what to say. Track was her thing. Only one person in the whole school—a senior—could run as fast as her. Why was Asha running track? she wondered.

  Following Asha into the locker room, Mari felt her anger rising.

  “So I thought you did plays and stuff in the fall,” she said. “Aren’t you going to join that theater group this year?”

  “Well, yes, I am. They have auditions this week,” said Asha, grabbing her shower caddy. “I know I’m going to make it, too. Professor Ritchie said he wanted to cast me as Eponine in Les Miserables, which is great because you know I speak French, and I went to a theater camp this summer where I boned up on my projection in A Raisin in the Sun playing Beneatha. I was great—got a standing ovation.”

  “That’s lovely and everything, but how are you gonna do cross-country and theater?”

  “Coach Little said he’d work it out with Professor Ritchie. When he called me this summer, he told me he really needed some more speed on his team.”

  But I’m the speed, Mari thought. Coach called her this summer? He’s never called me at home.

  “Oh well, I guess I’ll have to show you the ropes,” Mari tried to say nonchalantly, realizing that Asha was recruited for the track team while she’d had to try out last year.

  “I think Pierce knows what he’s doing. He’s had me doing aerobics and weight training to prepare, and Coach told me that I needed to run cross-country as well,” said Asha. “Thanks anyway. I’ll let you know if I need some of your help. If I keep beating you like I did today, you might need my help. I’m hitting the showers.”

  “Be careful,” Mari yelled after her. “Wouldn’t want you to fall in there and break a leg or anything.”

  Her spoken wishes didn’t make her feel any better, especially since Asha didn’t respond. She didn’t even know if Asha heard her. Sitting on the bench in front of her locker, Mari daydreamed about an ambulance pulling up to the gym and hauling off an injured Asha, who’d slipped in the shower and fractured her leg. A grin spread across her face.

  Walking outside to wait for her father to pick her up, Mari spotted Randall Davidson, a guy from her Early World Literature class. She wasn’t normally the intimidated type, but Randy was different. He and his family were entrenched in East Moreland. His parents and grandparents had attended the school, at least one relative sat on the board, and the fine arts building was named after his great-uncle, who’d been a huge benefactor forever. But that wasn’t what really got Mari about Randy.

  What bothered her was that Randy had been getting the best of her in class lately. He had a good answer to every question their teacher, Mr. Wills, asked and all of his comments were insightful. Mari had liked the class immediately. It had most of the elements to engage her competitive nature. The subject matter they were going to cover was interesting. She’d always liked Greek mythology and stories set in faraway places, and she was ecstatic when she found out the grade for the class would be heavily based on papers and participation in class discussions as opposed to pop quizzes and tests. This was just the type of class she not only enjoyed, but in which she knew she could perform well.

  Looking around the classroom one day as class was nearly over, she wondered if any of the other students felt the same way—that Randy was just taking over the class. But unlike Mari, no one else looked or acted like they felt overly competitive with him. The class was having a deep discussion about the myth of Hades and Persephone. Randy was intensely defending his interpretation of the myth. Mari told Mr. Wills that she had a different understanding.

  After being corrected by her teacher, who sided with Randy, Mari sulked through the rest of the class. She didn’t even speak up to answer questions to which she knew the answers. Randy ran away with the discussion.

  Walking out of Early World Literature and toward her locker, she was so wrapped up in how to dispose of Randy that she almost knocked Asha over in the hallway.

  “You need to watch where you’re going,” said Asha, avoiding their collision.

  “Oh yeah. Sorry,” said Mari.

  “Hey, I think you’ve got some visitors here.”

  “What?”

  “There were these two black girls up here asking for you.”

  “Who were they?”

  “I don’t know,” said Asha. “I do know that one of them was really loud and her clothes were a lot on the eyes.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Mari, scanning her brain for who could be at East Moreland looking for her.

  “They were down by the boys’ school. The one with the plastic pink stilettos and the pink Tar-zhay jeans was talking to Derrick. He’s such a nerd. I don’t even think he noticed how skanky she looked.”

  Mari realized that Asha was most likely talking about Shauntae and Colby. She knew she had to find them before Shauntae caused a problem.

  “Where did you say you saw them?” asked Mari.

  “On the steps in front of Royal Hall. You better get down there if you know those girls. They were driving some kind of hooptie-looking thing and blasting some hip-hop. They won’t last long around here with security.”

  Mari ran down the covered steps from the girls’ school through the administration building and out the side door. She was right. There was Shauntae leaning against a beat-up white Caprice Classic, which Mari thought would be perfect for MTV’s Pimp My Ride. Derrick Travis, a black junior at East Moreland, was standing right up against her. Mari knew that half the campus could hear Lil Jon and the East Side Boys. At least thirty students, mostly white, were milling around in the courtyard and outside the sliding glass doors of the lunchroom. Everybody’s attention was directed at Shauntae’s display. Glenn and Ed, two other black male juniors, were making their way to the car where Colby was sitting in the driver’s seat.

  She was just about to head toward Shauntae when she saw Mrs. Reeves, the black senior adviser, step out of the lunchroom. Oh Lord, Mari thought, jogging down the hill.

  “Girl, what are you doing up here?” she yelled, running up on Shauntae.

  “I tried to call you on your cell, but you weren’t answering, then Derrick here rolled by and, well, you know,” said Shauntae, touching Derrick’s face.

  “You know I keep my phone off when I’m at school.”

  “That’s your problem right there—ever heard of vibrate? And what? I can’t come up here?” she asked as Mari shoved Derrick out of the way. “Hey, don’t push him. He’s a cutie.”

  “Yeah, don’t push me,” said Derrick, moving back toward Shauntae.

  “Colby! Turn that down,” shouted Mari, turning toward the car. “Y’all can’t play music like that up here.”

  “What do you mean ‘music like that’?” asked Shauntae, raising her right penciled eyebrow. She had grabbed Derrick back by his belt loops. “Black music? Hip-hop? You know all these white kids listen to is Eminem. They need to hear some of this crunk.”

  “That’s n-not what I meant, Shauntae,” stuttered Mari, wondering what she really did mean. “I meant that you can’t play music loud like that on this campus.”

  “Umm, hmm, whatever,” said Shauntae, reaching in through the passenger-side window and bumping down the volume. Derri
ck’s eyes widened as her pink thong peeked out at all of East Moreland. “Why didn’t you ever tell me y’all had such fine men up in here?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mari, annoyed, watching Glenn and Ed on the other side of the car talking to Colby.

  “So can I get your number?” asked Derrick, touching Shauntae’s waist.

  “I was looking for a pen, baby,” purred Shauntae.

  “Look, what’s up? Y’all got a holiday or something? Why aren’t you at school?” asked Mari.

  “I didn’t feel like going,” said Shauntae, not taking her eyes off Derrick.

  “Yo, G,” Derrick called to Glenn, “you got a pen, man? I need to get this girl’s number.”

  “Hold up, man,” said Glenn. “I’m trying to talk to this honey right here. What’s your name again, slim?” To Mari’s dismay, Colby smiled as Glenn took her hand.

  “Ooh. That’s my part,” said Shauntae, all of the sudden shaking her hips. “Crank that up, Colby.”

  “No, Colby, don’t crank that up,” Mari ordered.

  “Girl, you know how we do. When Lil Jon says ‘Ohhhkaaaaay,’ you know we gotta let the masses know,” said Shauntae, grinding against Derrick. “I said crank it up, Colby.”

  Colby obeyed, and no one but Mari paid any attention to the growing crowd of white kids watching them and the two Mercedes and one Jaguar that were stopped behind them.

  “Hey, you gotta move. There’s people behind you,” Mari screamed. She thought she would die of embarrassment.

  “Shiiii…they can go around,” said Shauntae, dancing around Derrick.

  Fed up, Mari pushed Shauntae and Derrick aside, reached in the car and turned the radio off, ripping her new Baby Phat blouse on a jagged lock that was not pushed down.

  “Hey! Why you trippin’?” said Shauntae.

  “Yeah, Mari,” said Derrick. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I told you you need to move. People are trying to get around you,” said Mari.

  “Damn, girl,” said Shauntae. “Colby, pull over.”

  “You’re not about to leave, are you?” asked Derrick, following Shauntae over to the steps.