Rise and Fall of a Track Star
by
O. Keeys
Smashwords Edition
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Passionate Writer Publishing
www.passionatewriterpublishing.com
Rise and Fall of a Track Star
Copyright © 2011 by O. Keeys
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This book is a work of nonfiction. All opinions expressed therein are solely those of the author. This book is intended for informational and support only. Some names have been changed to protect parties involved. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of nonfiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
*****
Also by O. Keeys
Young Adult
Unloved
The Baby Girl (Key Rollins)
Mainstream
Under Omegia Keeys
Passionate Playmates
Seduction.com
Can You Keep a Secret?
Short Stories
Keeping Secrets
Honey
*****
Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge my father for being what a father figure should be to every little girl. My mother for always pushing me and knowing that no matter what I have always loved you. To that #1 Nurse, you are much more than family to me and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Tiffany, thank you for listening to my story and pushing me to continue. My best friend, Cherea, I can’t believe you stuck around this long but so grateful you have. You know the true meaning of friendship. Coaches Bennie Edwards, John Gartland, and John McNicholes thank you for taking a chance and seeing in me what I didn’t even see in myself. To anyone who has ever been kind to me without even knowing me, I thank you. And finally to those who have done the things you are about to read in the following pages, you no longer have power over me I released that burden a long time ago. I didn’t write this to expose you but to help others in need.
Dedication
To all my family, friends, and those who have tried to speak out but were ignored and those who have suffered in silence, may you all find the strength to rise. Become who you were meant to be and not the person they tried to steal away.
Foreword
Omegia first asked me to write this foreword about a year ago when she decided to pen her memoir. We talked in depth about the issues she planned to cover along with the importance of telling her story. I, for one, am glad that Omegia has the courage and forthrightness to tell her story to the world. This book will help to not only inspire young women under similar circumstances, but give women everywhere a springboard to discuss the issues in this book.
As a native Chicagoan and fellow mid-westerner, I was enamored by the opportunity to assist with this project. Omegia knows many authors who could have written this foreword, but I was honored she asked me to assist her with this endeavor. I promised that in doing so I would be as candid as I could about the important role of urban authors, why this book is important, and why I feel that every girl who struggles to find her voice should own a copy of this book.
Omegia’s new book Rise and Fall of a Track Star conveys the pain, hope, and experiences of a teenage girl from Indianapolis, Indiana who deals with issues of alcoholism, sexual assault, single parenthood, and social isolation. This book is written for girls who grow up in environments where they are told that ‘only the strong survive.’ This book will open up the reader’s senses and get them to understand the pain that our girls often feel behind those smiles and strong eyes. Rise and Fall of the Track Star is a must-read book for every girl in an urban area and beyond who struggles to find hope in their darkest hour.
Tiffany A. Flowers
Tiffany A. Flowers is an author, college instructor, literacy advocate, and philanthropist.
Prologue
“What the heck is wrong with you? She is a freshman and you’re a senior. A state champion senior.”
All I could do was shrug my shoulders. I was trying to catch my breath and he was stealing all my air. He couldn’t care less.
“Act like the star you are or get the hell off my track.”
I looked at him out the corner of my eye to see if he was serious. Vein popping out the middle of his forehead, nose flared—yes, he was serious. More serious than the first day I stepped on this very same track as a Red Devil and he tossed me a shovel, telling me to get to work clearing snow from the lanes of the track. It was the first day of the outdoor season and we were practicing no matter what. That was officially my first experience with him as a Coach but, although he had coached me from my elementary days. He had also been my sister’s coach. I was there at all of her home track meets, running along with her on the inside of the field. I wasn’t trying to compete with her—no, never. I just wanted to experience what she felt, why she enjoyed it so much. There seemed to be some sort of freedom in it, which I recognized at a very early age. He was there guiding her the entire way. He had become an integral part of my life, my second father. His name was Mr. Bennie Edwards.
I remained silent, fearful of my response. I was an emotional wreck. Here I was doing the one thing I loved, yet I felt an emptiness; something was missing. That something was me. Someone had stolen me. Like a thief in the middle of the night, I was stolen and what remained was just a mere shell of my former self.
Chapter One
In order for me to describe the woman I am today, I must first take you on a journey into my past. To the time before life changing events, loser boyfriends, and even my first true love—running. In order for me as a woman to be truly happy, I must accept my past, to learn from it and leave it where it is…the past.
I am number seven, the seventh child that is or the baby girl, spoiled brat, knucklehead, lump lump, Oatmeal, yellow gal, red gal, Meeg-meeg, or whatever my siblings could come up with. Where my brothers and sisters went, I went. I was a sponge absorbing everything I saw down to the scent it left behind. I used to be around my older brother PJ so much that folks began to think I was one of his kids. See there was a huge age gap between me and the older six. Eight years to be exact. PJ was the oldest and the family guy. He always had us kids doing something from helping him fix up cars to a trip to Disney World. What possessed him to pack nine kids in a station wagon and drive down to Florida, I don’t know, but it was one of the happiest memories of my childhood.
When I wasn’t around PJ, I was up under K-run trying to act cool just like him or fighting with my other brother Van about something meaningless. Ike kept to himself a lot, but I loved just knowing he was around. I was heartbroken when he joined the Navy. Being the youngest no one bothered discussing it with me. I only remember him being gone for a long period of time before anyone mentioned it to me. I used to stare at this black and white picture he took while in his high school shop class for hours on end wondering if, or when he was coming back.
I enjoyed being around my sisters, too, but the oldest, Lette, already had kids and was meaner than a rattle snake so I hung around Reese a lot more. She was the one I loved to watch run. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. Reese also had a heart of gold. She was the peacekeeper. If something happened to you, she would be there crying right along with you as if she were the victim. I can recall only having one argument with her in my entire life and that wasn’t until we were already adults. She had a way of making you feel so bad if you ever did something to her that you just never wanted to again. I didn’t want to see those crocodile tears fill up and spill over. That tore at my soul. She is the reason why I fought her twin, Van, so much. Van was unrelenting with his torment, always picking at her until she would cry, so I saw it as my duty to get him back.
Growing up in a large family it always seemed like we were having a party. With so many kids, relatives, or friends who needed a place to crash, our house stayed full of people. Our house was also the neighborhood house. My mom refused let a child go hungry, homeless, or without a decent pair of shoes. I believe she got her kind heart from her mother, my Big Ma, and why she went into the field of healthcare.
The title of the candy store also belonged to us. Penny candy, cookies, freeze cups, chips, and those cheap pops often were in more abundance than regular food in our pantry. People were always coming and going from our house for one reason or another. If you were somebody in need and couldn’t help yourself, no worries, Ma would find something for you to do. We had a huge garden on the side of our house in need of chopping and there was always some project in need of extra hands, such as building a driveway out of bricks. Ma gave you a choice, work the garden, collect bottles, or go find her some good bricks to lay down in the driveway. It was amazing to see folks just showing up with bricks for her inspection, or alongside us in the garden.
All that lasted until my middle school years. By then I was the only one left at home. Everyone else was grown. They moved out and on with their lives. I was heartbroken and lonely. It was only me, my mom, and our faithful Doberman—that is unless she was in heat. I had plenty of friends and my oldest sister, Lette, did live down the street, but it wasn’t the same. I went from a huge family to feeling like an only child. I was in shock. Besides the South Shore and the Amtrak whizzing by and shaking the house at ungodly hours, I needed the love. Ma was doing the best she could. The hospital had a huge layoff and she moved onto driving trucks and selling Avon. My 4 foot 11 inches tall mother could drive a semi. She would stack the pillows underneath her and be on her way. This left me with a lot of alone time. No need for her to worry, though. The fear of being strung up by my toes was embedded within in me. There was no way I was up to no good. Not to mention back then everyone knew my family and would snitch on me anyway.
My childhood friends knew if they were doing anything around me to stir up an old school butt whooping it would result in me disappearing from the scene. The few times I had a memory lapse didn’t work out too well for me. Such as the one time I let Tanya, a family friend, talk me into smoking. It wasn’t cigarettes, but writing paper with grass from out her front lawn rolled up inside it. We sat in her room, which was upstairs facing the main street, blowing smoke out the window. Of course someone saw the smoke and informed her parents. I felt the sting of the belt and was grounded while Tanya was back outside skipping around the neighborhood the same day.
About six months after everyone had moved out and my mother was off pushing Avon, a knock came at the door. I opened it and was instantly frozen in place. There stood my uncle Lonnie, greasy Jerri Curl and all. He asked if anyone was there with me. I said no and he left, but old memories of him lagged behind. They flooded my mind, overwhelming me. I slumped against the front door trapped back in time.
My mind drifted back to a few years earlier. I was up in my room playing with my Star Wars action figures. I had everyone you could remember from the movies and the even ones you couldn’t. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I knew it was Lonnie He was the only person living in our house who had a way of walking that made him appear over 300 pounds instead of the 170 he was. At any moment he would burst through the Ewok Village I had positioned a foot away from the top of the stairs. He would cause damage to the village that the Death Star failed to do in Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.
I ignored him, hoping he would walk past the room I shared with Reese and continue onto my brothers’ room. He was staying with us at this time and this was his normal routine. He had no choice but to pass through our room to get to the back room. Our house was very old and the architecture made zero sense to my adolescent mind. The upstairs had a staircase leading straight up to our room and there was another room positioned directly behind it. The door was on the back end of our room.
“Ain’t you getting a lil’ ol’ to play with them thangs or shouldn’t you a least play with them dolls? Why you always like them boy toys? You a pretty girl and pretty girls shouldn’t act like boys.”
I rolled my eyes and kept playing. My back was facing away from him and he couldn’t see me, but I kept making faces anyway. Everyone knew I didn’t like dolls, especially those dang Cabbage Patch Kids staring down at me from the top bunk of Reese’s bed. That was her thing, not mine. Now, she was the one too old for dolls. She was a collector of those things. I, on the other hand, preferred the Garbage Pal Kids. They were like a spoof of the Cabbage Patch Kids. While the Cabbage were cute and cuddly the Garbage were anything but. I hated the Cabbage Patch Kids so bad I scalped one and drew in black circles around the eyes with a permanent marker. When I was finished, I tossed it in my brothers’ closet and when it was found, I blamed Van. It was payback for him smashing my head down on the couch with his butt and farting on me.
“Mmmm mmmmph,” I heard Lonnie making that strange noise behind me.
I continued to ignore him. From the lack of crunching sounds, I gathered he missed the Ewoks. They had been spared until it was time for him to make his way back down stairs.
“Mmmm mmmmph,” he said again as his hand slipped down the back of my spandex shorts. My body felt paralyzed. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.
His hand was rough and hurt my underdeveloped body. I don’t know how long he fondled me with those dirty hands—hands that had just come from working on a car engine. My mind had wandered off to another place. It refused to acknowledge my uncle doing what he was doing to me. A noise from within the closet drew me back to the present. Lonnie jerked his hand from my pants and ran downstairs.
It took a few moments, but my body finally regained feeling enough for me to move around and cry. My Wonder Woman underwear felt foreign on my now swollen area. The part of my body in which he fondled had become irritated. I snapped all the way to and ran down stairs in search of my mother, but she was already talking to Lette about something. Lette was crying. I turned around and went back to my room and headed for the closet. The entire clothes rack had fallen against the door causing the loud noise. I then sat on my bed waiting for my mother to finish talking to Lette. I must have gone to sleep because I didn’t recall much after that.
The next morning I woke up prepared to tell my mother. She sat at the kitchen table looking stressed out. I could tell she had been there for a while from the drawings she sketched directly on the white table. The drawings were in pencil so they would easily wipe off when it was time to clean up the kitchen. She often sketched while on the phone.
“Lonnie is not going to be around here anymore,” she said between sips of coffee. The way she held the pencil as she drank her coffee one would have thought she had just quit smoking.
She didn’t bother looking up at me. So I know she didn’t want to talk. No need to stress her out more so I went outside to find comfort from our dog Champ. I plopped down on K-runs blue van seats, which were lying next to the garage. He always took them out when he went fishing. Champ came out her dog house and laid her head in my lap. I let all my tears out into her fur. She didn’t complain nor try to move. I vaguely remember her sighing along with me.
Come to find out later Lonnie had molested my sister as well, either the same day or the day before me. He left at his own will. It didn’t stop me from seeing him, though. Every time I went down south, I would see him and get sick to my stomach. I hated him. He would try and give me money or be nice to me. I couldn’t be bought off. At least that’s what I felt he was doing. It was because of Lonnie that I refused to wear skirts, or if forced to, I had on shorts underneath. I wanted nothing to look pretty on me.
Till this day I still despise going down south and have received plenty of flack because of it. Everyone seemed to assume I thought I was too good to visit my relatives. I have no idea how they missed how nervous I was when I was forced to go. Now I only stop by as I am passing through the state. No one questions me when I have to get back on the road only after an hour or so.
By the time I got to junior high, I became the girl who fought boys. Some unknowing boy asked me to be his girlfriend. I poured my Sprite on him and punched him in the stomach. I felt he should have known better. I beat up boys. At least that’s what I started doing after my uncle touched me. When I played basketball down at the park and someone fouled me, I would fight. The older men and my brothers thought it was hilarious. My little 5 foot 2 inches, weighing less than 100 pounds would find something to beat you with if you looked at me too long. All the boys in the neighborhood knew better. They knew to just be cool with me or it would be a fight. If you crossed me and I couldn’t get you, I would make you chase me. I had some poor soul chase me all the way into the yard of my oldest brother. I ran him straight to a good ol’ fashioned beat down.
Once puberty started I snapped out of fighting boys so much. I didn’t like them all that well either, but I didn’t want to fight them anymore. I just focused more on school and running. Funny, ’cause I was very popular and had a lot of friends, but I still liked staying to myself a lot. Plus, Ma always had things for me to do around the house.
That day Lonnie showed up at the house I was in the 8th grade. It was my first time ever seeing him alone since the day he touched me. When my mother did come home, I told her he stopped by. She asked if I let him in the house. Not a chance. I informed her I addressed him through the locked screen door. Ma made a few calls and informed me Lonnie moved back up North and was living down the street. He had moved downstairs from one of my close friends at the time, Tanya’s cousin. Needless to say our friendship fizzled after that. I went from playing on her porch to avoiding her for the fear of running into my uncle.
Chapter Two
“Just put the darn thing in and be done with it.” Nika fussed at me through the bathroom stall.
“It hurts and something don’t feel right,” I shouted back.
I was in the 10th grade getting ready for track season to start up again. My friends were trying to show me how to use a Tampon. My track shorts were too flimsy to continue wearing pads. Pads weren’t all that slender in the early 90s nor did the ones my mother buy come with wings to stay put.
“Only whores wear tampons.” That would be Gina. It didn’t matter to her that I was still a virgin. To her putting anything inside of you was having sex in her book.
“Well, you want the pad to fall out while I am running? You forget what happened last year?”
While I was running the season before, my pad had slipped out of place. I finished my race, had to sprint across the track, while trying not to kill myself once I hit the concrete or inside the building. Spikes only worked on the track. I barely made it to the bathroom before the pad made its way out and fell on the floor. I was relieved that no one saw it, but I still had two more races to go. The 200 meter and the 1600 meter relay. I grabbed some tape out the first aid kit and secured the new pad in place. Just know I was in a lot of pain when I had to pull those underwear back off.
“Whatever. I am not staying in here for this.”
I heard the door slam so I knew Gina was gone.
“Is it in yet?” Nika asked.
“Yeah, but it hurts.” I was perplexed trying to follow the diagram on the instructions. Part of the issue was because I had no clue what my body looked like down in that area. At that age the thought of examining myself was revolting.
“You’ll get used to it. Now hurry up before we miss something.”
Missing something would be us standing alongside the set of lockers across from the tunnel connecting the Gym to the Main building. It was where everyone hung out during passing periods. I was in pain. Something was pinching the crap out of me down there. I passed on hanging out and went straight to class.
Jerome poked his head in the door shortly after I found my seat, wanting to know what was wrong. I guess you could say he was my boyfriend, pure puppy love for me and lust for him. We hung out and joked around mostly. Not a lot of kissing or anything like that at the time. We had known each other a few years. I recall watching the first episode of In Living Color at his house. Everyone was at the park playing basketball. A boy shouted from a passing car that the show was getting ready to start. We all scattered like roaches trying to get to the nearest house with parents who wouldn’t kick us out. That house was his. He was the school clown and everyone loved being around him. I simply told him I didn’t feel good and he went on his way.
Days had passed before I stopped feeling discomfort. I didn’t realize you weren’t supposed to put the entire thing in you, including the applicator. I wasn’t comfortable bringing it up to my mom. Funny thing because she had no problem discussing any topic or situation with me and my friends. Most of the time her advice resulted in instant embarrassment for me. Mom would go to Planned Parent Hood and bring home a huge bag of condoms and pass them out to my friends. She didn’t condone sex but made sure you were protected if you did. The only thing I ever used the condoms for were as water balloons. My sister’s three kids were at our house most of the time and we always were into crazy things. My nephew found the bag and thought it was full of balloons so I went along with it. The look on my mom’s face when she came home and used condoms littered the yard was not a good one. I got back under her good graces when I used the next bag to hand out as samples for my safe sex speech in my communications class.
Relieved my unwanted visitor, or Aunt Flo as some called it back then, was finally gone, I sat upstairs in my room playing Mario Brothers. My mother won a 15 inch TV at some new store and gave it to me as a gift to replace my smaller black and white one. The new television came with a remote control, which put an end to my days of turning the top dial to U and adjusting the bottom dial until I found a clear Chicago station.
“May you speak to her?”
I sprinted down the stairs from my bedroom as soon as I heard my mother correcting someone on the phone. It had to be one of my friends. I silently prayed they repeated asking for me correctly, if not she would hang up on them. She was a stickler for using manners. They must have gotten it right because she handed me the phone and went back to snapping peas at the kitchen table.
For privacy I stretched the kitchen phone cord three feet to the stairs, which led up to my bedroom and closed the door. We didn’t have a cordless phone. It was okay with me because I was happy the phone was actually working. Depending on the time of the month it was subject to being disconnected for a few days, or weeks.
“Hello,” I said, grinning at the phone.
“Wassup, girl?”
“Who is this?” I asked making myself comfortable on the stairs by pushing the worn shoes that occupied them off to the side.
“Who is this? Who the heck it supposed to be? It better be your man. What other dudes you got calling you?”
“Jerome. Dang, boy, stop getting all crazy. You know I am just playing with you.”
“Better be.”
“J, your ma said to ask if you hungry.” I heard a female say in the background.
“Who is that?”
“Dang, girl, you and that supersonic hearing. Ain’t nobody but Mel.”
“Oh, okay. Tell her I said hey.”
“Megia said hey.” He must have set the phone down because his voice sounded muffled as he spoke to her.
“Sup, girl. You not coming over today?” Melinda asked. He had given her the phone or she took it from him.
“Nah. I am trying to finish up this book I was reading. I got it from my English teacher and it’s kind of good. When you going to drop that load?”
“Two more months.”
Melinda was actually pregnant by Jerome and it didn’t bother me one bit. She was a very nice girl and we got along great. Besides it was before me, and he and I were not having sex. His mom used to think I was nuts for being nice to the girl, but she didn’t do anything to me for me to hate her. Her sisters, on the other hand, were an entire other issue. In the beginning they were always talking crazy as if I had stolen Jerome away from the girl. They taunted me for almost a month until I saved Melinda from getting attacked by a dog outside of Jerome’s house. I just happened to show up at the nick of time, saw the Doberman charging her, and picked up a huge stick, knocking the dog upside his head.
Melinda being pregnant wasn’t really the issue. The real issue was her age. She was only thirteen and Jerome was seventeen. I didn’t find out her age until the next year when she actually made it up to the high school. Technically, as I was only fifteen, he should not have been my boyfriend either. It was high school and looking back I guess as kids we really didn’t think much about it.
“Oh, so he kicking real good now, huh?”
“Yep. I gotta go. He looking at me like I am taking up all y’all time.”
“You happy now? Now get out my face, girl.” He paused. Once I heard the door shut, I knew she had left his room. “So you going to be there tomorrow or not?”
“Tomorrow?”
“The senior skip party. Quit acting like you forgot. I know you didn’t. You just scared. Stacey already said she going so I know you gonna to find a way to be there. You two act like you’re joined at the hip.”
“I aint’ scared. You just don’t have my momma. Your momma don’t care about nothing. But if Stacey going, then I guess I can stop by for a little bit.” Man, oh, man was I nervous just thinking out it. My mom would kill me for sure if she knew I was even thinking about skipping school.
“Well, then, I will see you tomorrow. Bye.” He disconnected the call without me saying goodbye back to him. He had a habit of doing that.
I decided to call Stacey.
“House of beauty, this is cutie,” Stacey said answering the phone.
“You so dang silly, girl,” I laughed.
“Oh, so you pulled your nose out that book long enough to call me back?” Stacey knew my voice without asking who it was. Caller ID may have been invented during this time, but no one we knew had the service.
“You jealous now?”
“What, girl, naw. I am just saying because I need you to be at the Lighthouse Mall in an hour to help me with inventory and to get us some outfits.”
“Say no more. You know I am there.”
I hung up the phone and squeezed in one more chapter of reading before asking my mother if I could head over to the Lighthouse Mall. She had no problem with it. The Lighthouse Mall, now called Prime Outlet, had only been around for about six months at this time. I remember when the land it sat on used to be a huge wooded area. We used to ride through it along self-made bike trails. You had to be a skilled rider to make it through because of the drop-offs, small streams, and low branches. Over the years I obtained a few battle wounds from being smacked in the face by a few trees as I tried my best to keep up with Reese on the trails.
I didn’t mind helping with inventory. I got paid less than minimum wage for it, but walking out with new clothes from Gitano was a plus. Whenever Stacey and I did inventory we would set what we wanted in a trash bag. Her sister was the manager and was the one giving us the instructions. At the time I never considered it stealing. Now I know for sure her older sister was training me to be a criminal. Okay, a little dramatic, but it was stealing.
After doing inventory and getting some new clothes, I went back home to get ready for the big party. I was so nervous I don’t recall getting much sleep, if any. I had never skipped school, nor even wanted to. It seemed like if you missed a day of school, then you missed everything going on. High school was my living soap opera and I enjoyed every moment of it.
The following morning I made my way across town to the skip party destination. Many thoughts plagued my adolescent mind. Did the adults passing by in those cars know I was skipping school? Did they know my mother? I was a nervous wreck the entire trip.
“What you doing here so early?” Nika asked, snatching open the back door to her house. Her brother was the senior and the master mind of the skip party. Their parents were out of town.
“I thought this was the time.”
“Girl, you clueless. You were supposed to go to school for home period to get marked present.” She was looking at me like I had a huge mass growing out the side of my head.
“I didn’t know.” Heck, I didn’t. No one bothered to tell me how these things worked.
“Come on in and help me set up then.”
I followed her inside and we were having a good conversation until it switched back to my virginity.
“So when you gonna give Jerome some of that?” she asked as she stocked the refrigerator with Private Stock Beer.
“Some of what?”
“Damn, girl, quit acting like your coochie is this golden prize. You need to quit holding out on that boy before somebody else come along and give him some.”
“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes at her. Nika was a very pretty girl, but she was a whore. Everyone knew it. I still considered her one of my close friends, though. “I am not ready for all of that.”
“Then you are not ready to be a woman.”
“Guess I will never be one then. Let me get one of those wine coolers.” I wanted to calm my nerves.
“You sure?”
“I asked for it, didn’t I?” Nika had begun to work on my last nerves.
“Guess you told me.” She pulled one out and handed it to me. “Now since this your first time drinking, I need you to take it slow. It taste like grape Kool-Aid so don’t drink it all fast.”
I took a sip. I wanted to spit it out. It didn’t taste like any grape Kool-Aid I ever had. I gave it another shot. Okay, it was getting a little bit better. While we were in the kitchen, more kids had started to show up and music began playing.
“What’s up, Dream Girls!” Stacey screamed as she entered the kitchen. I am not sure who made up the name for us, but that was what we were called. Me, Stacey, Gina, Nika, Kia, and Leslie. We even had dumb sayings to go along with our names. Mine was O-So-Nice.
“S-sup,” I said. I tried to say more, but my tongue felt too big for my mouth and the room was spinning a little bit.
“What the…” Stacey pointed to the drink on the table and floated towards me. In reality she walked, but it looked like floating to me. “Oh, so you grown today? Got you skipping school and now you drinking?”
“It’s cool I feel fine,” I slurred.
“Nika, how many of those did she drink?”
“That’s the first one.”
Stacey snatched the drink off the table. “What the hell is in this bottle?”
“Issa wine cooler, Stacey,” I said.
Nika looked at us both with a smile on her face before speaking, “Everclear.”
“Are you serious? Why would you let her drink that?”
“Nobody put a gun to her head. She wanted it and I gave it to her. I even asked was she sure and she got snappy with me.”
“What y’all in here doing?” Jerome said walking into the kitchen. “Where the drinks at?”
Nika pointed to the refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out a few beers. “Dang, baby, you can’t say hi to your man?”
“Hey, baby,” I said a little too perky. I slid out the stool and went over to him giving him a big sloppy kiss. “I think I’m drunk.”
“Me, too, but it’s good for you. That’s the first time you gave me a real kiss. No more pecks on the cheek. Come on.”
Jerome grabbed my hand and I did a staggered walk alongside him. He led me into a room with the rest of the party. I had no idea this many people had showed up. The house was packed. Not only was it wall to wall with kids from our school but the high school across town. We found a spot in the corner. I sat back, observing the room as best I could while fighting with the effects of the alcohol and finishing the little I had left in the bottle. People were dancing, making jokes, and couples had no problem tonguing each other down in front of everyone. Jerome was enjoying talking to his friends while rubbing on my leg.
“I’m going to get another drink.” Jerome got up and headed towards the kitchen. While he was gone, Keith came over to talk to me. We had homeroom and a history class together. He was a really cool guy.
“Hey, Megia, surprised to see you here and with a drink.”
“Why you say that?”
“Because I never see you at house parties. I dunno. You seem like a good girl.”
“Good girls need fun too.”
“Yeah, but you seemed different, though.”
We sat around talking a little while longer, and then I noticed Jerome heading back in our direction. I began half-listening to Keith as I tried to decipher the look on Jerome’s face. He seemed upset about something.
“Baby, you…” Before I could say ‘ok,’ he raised his hand and slapped me. My face began stinging. I stumbled as I tried getting up out the chair. The darn room was spinning. At this point it was less from the alcohol and more from the slap.
I heard Keith ask what the hell his problem was as I managed to get my bearings in an effort to leave the room. I stumbled into the hallway. More drunk students. There was a door to my right. I opened it and went inside. So many thoughts were swirling through my mind. I didn’t get a chance to process any of them because Stacey burst in the room right behind me. She, too, had been drinking.
“What the hell happened?”
“He walked up and slapped me,” I cried. My face was on fire and I am sure it was bright red.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. He is drunk. He didn’t mean it.”
I wanted to ask her if she was nuts. As hard as he hit me, I was sure he meant it.
“You mind if I come in?” Jerome poked his head in the door.
I didn’t bother looking at him. I adjusted myself on the bed Stacey and I were sitting on so my back would be to him.
“Stacey, I don’t know what was wrong with me. I thought she and Keith…man I don’t know. Can you give us a minute?”
I felt Stacey’s weight shift off the bed. I should have stopped her, but I didn’t. Something in me wanted to hear what he had to say. I heard the door open and close behind me. He sat on the bed next to me and turned my face towards his.
“Megia, I am sorry.”
I remained silent.
“You know I love you, right?”
“You do?” Funny I never felt he did. Maybe I just didn’t know how it was supposed to feel.
“Yeah, girl.”
I was in a state of confusion. I was just slapped by someone who then professed his love to me. I thought back to all the other examples I had of relationships. There weren’t many to choose from. My brother Ike had moved back to town and he and his long term girlfriend fought like trained professionals. K-run watched women fight over him and would laugh. My mom was single, and that only left girls my age. Those I saw being brutally beaten by their so called boyfriends. I saw one get beaten right in front of the corner store. The boy ripped out her hair and knocked out her front tooth. None of the adults around bothered to step in and help. I reasoned a slap wasn’t so bad compared to any of that. My gut was screaming otherwise, but the more Jerome talked, the more I drowned it out.
He sweet talked me a little bit more and then began kissing on me. My body relaxed, becoming less tense. As we kissed he leaned me back on the bed and rubbed my thigh. He moved my hand between his legs and I snatched it back. I didn’t want him to touch that.
“What? Don’t you want to feel it?”
“No. I am not ready for that.”
“Come on, baby. You know I love you.”
“I said I am not ready.”
I rose up off the bed and headed for the door. He followed, kissing the back of my neck.
“Leave me alone.”
“Baby, come on.”
I ignored him and opened the door. Nika and Kia were on the other side.
“Where you going?” Nika asked, not letting me pass.
“Get back in there and give that man some,” Kia added.
“No.”
“You not coming out until you do,” Kia said. They pushed me back in the room. I tried pulling the door back open, but something or someone was not allowing the knob to turn.
“If you loved me, you would do this,” he said.
I wave of emotion hit me. I wasn’t ready, but he was my boyfriend. We had been together for almost the entire school year, plus the past summer. I was scared to lose him. Regretfully, I made my way back onto bed. Jerome kissed on me again.
Everyone else is doing it. I am the last virgin alive.
He pushed his hand down my pants. Visions of Uncle Lonnie popped in my head. I fought the urge to vomit. He managed to get my pants down to my knees. He rubbed my vagina. It felt awful.
“Relax, baby, it’s okay.”
I just lay there mute, bracing myself for whatever was to come. All the other girls talked about it like it was the best thing in the world. I was having regrets. Nothing about what he was doing felt right. I should not have been there with him. When he tried to enter me, I let out a cry.
“Dang, girl, it’s just the head.”
He forced himself inside me a little more.
“It hurts.” I started to pray I would zone out and my mind would drift off to a happier time. I felt something pop, a burn, then liquid oozing out of me. My mind, body, and soul were not into any of the actions going on in the room.
“No shit, you are a virgin! I am your first,” he said proudly.
Yes, he was my first. Uncle Lonnie only fondled me. No matter. I was just as disgusted at that moment as I was then. He made some movements on top of me. I hoped he finished up soon. He did. He kissed me again and got up. Now not only was my face on fire, but so was in-between my legs. I felt like a swarm of bees attacked me down there. He pulled up his pants and went to the door. I couldn’t hear who he was talking to, but Gina came in a few moments later and handed me a wash cloth. I took it from her and used it. It didn’t help with the burning.
“You a woman now,” she said.
I cried.
“Oh, it hurts the first time, but it will get better.”
What, oh, hell no I was not doing this ever again. No way no how! I screamed inside my head. I pulled myself together and managed to get my pants back up. Jerome had left the room as I cleaned myself off. I looked at the towel and noticed the blood on it. I broke down.
“It’s okay, Megia. You supposed to bleed the first time. It’s just the way it is.”
I had enough of this madness and this party. I wanted out of here. I snuck out the back door without saying goodbye to anyone and made my way back to the Westside of town. Mom wasn’t due back home until the next day so I wouldn’t have to explain anything. I was glad track didn’t start for another day. There was no way I could have made it through practice.
Chapter Three
Back at school the next day everyone was talking about the party. It was a huge success. I listened in for information regarding me and Jerome. Not once did it come up. It seems as if everyone there was drunk and in their own worlds. I did hear something hilarious about Nika, though. Some of the kids had brought marijuana and she decided to smoke it with them. Afterwards she was on the second floor standing at the top of the stairs. The next thing everyone saw was her lunging into the air yelling she was Super Girl and could fly. Lucky for her there were other people on the stairs and they stopped her from flipping down the stairs once gravity took hold of her.
“So how you feel?” Stacey asked, meeting me at my locker for our daily walk to McDevil’s. McDevil’s was like a mini McDonald’s inside of our school. The vocational students ran it in the morning. They had all types of breakfast sandwiches during the morning and way better food than the cafeteria at lunch. I always picked up a turkey bacon, egg, and cheese McMuffin.
“Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yeah, how am I supposed to feel?”
“I dunno. Just asking. You know Troy had his leather coat stolen from the party.”
“Man, for real? Didn’t he just get that?”
Troy was Stacey’s boyfriend at the time. Well, when she was not dealing with Nika’s brother that is. Nika’s brother and Stacey had been on and off again since junior high.
“Yes, and he won’t shut up about it.”
“That is messed up. Folks always stealing.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Sup, baby,” Jerome said, interrupting us.
“Hey, I will holla at you later,” Stacey said.
I glared at her. I really didn’t want to talk to Jerome.
“Hi,” I said dryly.
Jerome placed his arm over my shoulder and walked me the rest of the way to McDevil’s. I gave into his warm body next to mine. Maybe I was just overreacting and that was how things were supposed to be.
“Ain’t y'all just the happy couple?” Nika said walking up on us. She stopped in front of us with Kia in tow.
“Shut up, Nika,” Jerome said.
Nika rolled her eyes at him and pushed past us. Kia waved at me before taking off to keep up with Nika.
“Why the heck you hang around her? She ain’t nothing but a whore.” Jerome said once they left us alone.
“She cool, though.”
“Naw, that bitch is jealous. That’s what she is.”
I never heard him talk about her like this. I didn’t bother saying anything back. The girl did get around. He finished walking me to McDevil’s and then on to my next class. He even met me at my locker for each passing period after that. I was feeling more special as the day went on. I grew a little anxious as we got to my history class. I knew Keith would be in there. He always beat me to class. To my surprise Jerome spoke to him and gave me a kiss on the forehead before heading on his way.
“You can do better,” Keith said to me once Jerome had gone.
“What? Why you say that?”
“’Cause you can.”
We didn’t have time for anymore conversation. Class was starting and I needed to focus. I learned better by listening in class, never by reading the dry stuff between the pages of my ten-year-old history book. I knew it was so old because students always signed and dated the front of the book when they received it. This book used to be my brother Ike’s.
After school I didn’t wait around for Jerome. It was the first day of track practice and I was not going to be late. I knew the routine: get dressed and be waiting out in the hall before Coach. I stood in the hallway, stretching and talking to some of the older girls. Rose, Tasha, and Janet were all seniors and made up the other legs of the relay team along with me. I was thrust into the arms of the ‘A team’ as soon as I stepped foot on the track. I had already made a name for myself in junior high. The other girls could hold their own, but I was faster. When the starting gun went off, something would just overtake me and I would run my heart out. Too bad it wasn’t a meet this day. This day was the first day of conditioning, otherwise known as hell.
“Up and overs and the rest of you newbies follow,” Coach said, coming out his office.
Up and overs meant running up and down each set of stairs in the gymnasium from one side to the other and then back again. One time around would not have been so bad, but we had to do a set of ten. Tasha, Rose, Janet and I took lead and the rest of the team fell in behind us, including the girls who only did field events. As I ran, all my negative thoughts fell by the wayside. Running always did this for me. I focused on my breathing and not tripping on the stairs. No matter how tired I was I dared not fall out the lead of the pack. Leaders lead the way is what Coach made clear. You fell behind, then you were not a leader and your spot would be taken by another eagerly waiting girl.
By the time I got to the tenth one I had lapped over half of the team. My lungs were ready to explode, but I didn’t stop. I embraced the torture, reminding myself that my sister never stopped or quit, therefore neither would I. I used to imagine her running alongside me when I got tired. She was always one step ahead, pulling me along.
Finally I made it. Practice was over and I headed home. The brisk winter air soothed my sore limbs as I made my way back to the red house on the corner of 10th Street. My mother was home when I got there. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed to the bathroom to wash up.
“Stacey called,” my mom said as I came out the bathroom. She was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. She drank coffee all day long.
“Okay.”
I went upstairs and finished my homework before calling her. If I didn’t, I knew by the time we would get off the phone I would be too tired to think straight. Muscle fatigue would have surely set in on me.
“What took you so dang long to call me back?”