Read Scandal: Crossing Boundaries (Scandal Series #1 INTERRACIAL ROMANCE) Online
Authors: Jean St. Claire
Tags: #african american romance, #interracial romance, #white guy black girl love, #scandal tv romance, #multicultural romance
Scandal: Crossing Boundaries (Scandal Series #1 INTERRACIAL ROMANCE)
Copyright
©
2013 by Jean St. Claire
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
WARNING
: This book contains
adult
situations,
explicit sexual content
, and
profane
language that could be considered
vulgar
and
offensive
. Reader's discretion is advised.
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Chapter 1
"T
his math problem is too damn difficult!"
Looking up from grading her students' papers, Keisha Johnson held in an exasperated sigh. This damn heffa Lyneesha was giving her the breaks, always complaining about the easy math assignments being too hard when the difficulty level had already been lowered significantly.
She was fed up, but of course she knew better than to speak her mind.
"What is the problem Lyneesha?" asked Keisha in her professional voice.
"Everything," the big girl growled, the lopsided twigs on her head making her look like
all my life I had to fight
. She glared down at the paper on her desk, her cherubic face creased into a frown."You made this shit impossible to do."
Glowering at the dark-skinned
Precious
look-a-like in disapproval, Keisha sharply said, "Watch your mouth Miss Jones. I don't know how many times I've had to tell you about how cursing is inappropriate in this classroom."
Several girls around the classroom looked up and let out giggles, distracted from their exam.
Keisha could not be sure, but she thought she heard the nappy-headed girl say under her breath, "You ain't my momma hoe."
Lord Jesus, give me strength,
she prayed.
She about had it up to her neck with her job of two years. All she ever wanted to be when she grew up was a teacher. It was what drove her through school and pushed her to get her college education and degree.
But lord, she had no idea what a stressful and thankless job it would be to teach math to a bunch of underachievers.
Now with her husband's promotion coming up, Keisha began to wonder if all the stress was even worth it, dealing with bad ass kids, day in day out, with their nasty ass mouths while also having to deal with her triflin ass co-workers.
She was just turning thirty and had matured to the point where she felt like a grown woman. She did not need nobody talking crazy to her and thinking they could get away with it just because her position demanded she be polite. The stress of not being able to say what she wanted when the little heathens got out of hand with their disrespect, was driving her absolutely wild.
They just don't know,
she thought with a shake of her head.
If I could beat their asses with those big ass switches off them trees outside...I would.
Tossing her dark curls behind her and smoothing her pearly blouse, Keisha rose from her desk, making her way over to the big hussy, her black heels clicking against the glossy floor. "Just tell me what you need help with," Keisha told the girl quietly.
Lyneesha must not have been washing her head good, because Keisha could see the dandruff lining her scalp like snowflakes.
"This one right here," the big girl said, pointing at her problem.
Keisha had to hold back a shake of her head. The problem was one of the easiest ones on the quiz. The girl had no chance of passing.
Instead of learning curse words, she needs to be studying her damn study guide and learning how to clean her dirty scalp.
"May I see your pen?" Keisha asked the girl. There was no use letting her completely fail the exam. It would only end up reflecting badly on Keisha. She was sure the GPA average in her classroom was at an all-time low.
The girl looked down at her fat paws for a second before handing it to her. When Keisha wrapped her fingers around it, she almost dropped it with disgust. It felt like it was covered with grease.
And I'm going to have to wait until lunch time to wash my hands, too.
Leaning over the girl's desk, she had to hold in her breath from the ratchet smell of hair food the girl greased her scalp with. Then a fainter but more pungent smell reached her nose a second later, causing her to frown.
Oh, hell no. This heffa up here calling me a hoe, but don't know how to wash her hole? What a damn shame.
Sucking up her disgust at the fishy smell, she began working out problems for the girl, almost giving her the answers in the process.
"Do you see how to do it now?" asked Keisha hopefully when she was done writing down the examples.
Staring down at her paper with a pleased smile, Lyneesha nodded. "Yes. Thank you Mrs. Johnson."
"Alright. If you need any more assistance, I'll be happy to help." Keisha turned away, her fake smile morphing into a scowl, eager to get away from the smelly child.
"Yeah baby, why don't you come by later on? My dad ain't gone be home. We'd have the joint all to ourselves."
Keisha snapped her head around before she could get back to her desk, holding in a groan. "Dante put the cell phone away please." She had no idea who the boy could be talking to while in the middle of school. Logic dictated that the person on the other end of the line either was a school dropout or was someone much older.
Keisha did not like either possibility.
"Yea," Dante said to whoever was on the other end of the line, taking the cell away from his ear, "hold on a minute." Then he nodded at his paper that was most-likely filled with wrong answers. "I'm done with that shit."
Sucking in a deep breath, Keisha said as calmly as she could, "Just because you are done, does not give you the right to disrupt the rest of the class while they are trying to concentrate. Not to mention, cell phone usage is not allowed during class, only in case of an emergency."
"But it is an emergency," Dante protested with a smirk, the gold chain winking at his neck. "An emergency of my big, black dick."
The classroom erupted with laughter. There went their concentration for their quiz.
Why is this nigga trying me?
Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at the ornery boy, who was dressed in his usual baggy pants and too-large t-shirt, pointing a stern finger at the door. "Put the phone away Dante, or get out of my classroom."
What you really need is the black whooped off yo ass.
Dante shook his head, his smooth, chocolate face twisting into a scowl. "Dang man! Always gotta be fuckin with a nigga." Then into the phone he said, "I gotta go. I call you back when I get out this boring motha fucka."
Keisha stood there for a moment, wondering if she should further reprimand the boy for his foul language.
What good will it do?
she thought.
He's not going to listen. He'll stop for a second and be right back acting a damn fool.
Sighing, she returned to her desk, counting the seconds until lunch break. When the bell rang, the kids were all too eager to rush her desk, literally throwing their papers onto it.
Ten minutes later, in the faculty lunch room, her day worsened when she overheard the usual shady gossip.
Poised right outside the storage room door that was adjacent to the lunch room, peaking through a crack, Keisha got more than an earful.
"Girl, I can't stand her uppity ass," a social studies teacher, Shandi King, was saying to a woman Keisha could not see. She was holding a cup of steaming coffee, dressed in some slacks and yellow blouse, her facial expressions animated. "Walking around here like she bout it just because she got long hair that she wears natural."
"Mmmhmm," came the reply.
"I wanna be like, fake bitch, so? Just cause you wear it natural all the time that makes you special?" Shandi made a face that made her look uglier than she already was. "Motha fucka I been natural since ninety-one! Now what?"
"Girl, you know she probably got weave tracks in there somewhere. All that hair ain't real." This woman sounded like Janelle Goodman, an English teacher. "She just want people to think it is. She ain't foolin no damn body."
I know these two bitches ain't got the nerve to be talking about me, with they broke down looking asses.
"Yeah girl," Shandi nodded, egged on, "running around here with that internet degree. Make her ass take one of those quizzes she be giving her students and watch she fail it like a crack pipe set in front of a recovering crack whore."
Janelle laughed, her giggles sounding like a hyena sucking helium. "Umm mmm. Girl, you know it. I don't know how she wound up with such a fine ass husband. I wouldn't put up with her for two seconds if I was him."
"Girl, please," Shandi said, "you know he probably cheating on her ass like her students be cheating on their tests."
Both women started laughing like what Shandi had said was the funniest thing in the world.
The sound of the lounge door opening sent Keisha scrambling for the sink, nearly tripping on her heels along the way.
"Girl, I am so glad it is lunch time," said one of the faculty members as a slew of female teachers strolled into the room. "I was about to eat one of them damn chillrun."
The group of ladies chuckled, heartily agreeing. Then they went about grabbing their lunches out of the refrigerator and heating it up in the microwave, and in seconds, were seated at the lunch table, gossiping about the latest scandals involving their students.
Washing off her greasy hands at the sink, Keisha felt her stomach rumble at the smell of food. She was ready to eat too. But then she remembered; she had forgotten to bring lunch from home.
And ain't no way I'm bout to ask one of these gossiping hoes for any of theirs.
Nor did she think she had the time to make it to a drive-thru and back before her next period.
"Hey Keisha girl!" greeted Shandi from behind Keisha. "Girl you look good today."
You lying, two-faced ass, shady ass bitch.
Putting on a fake smile while wiping her hands off with a paper towel, Keisha turned around with, "Hey girl, and so do you."
Shandi stepped up beside her at the sink, taking a strand of Keisha's hair and rubbing it between her fingers. Keisha fought down the urge to slap her hands away and smack Shandi upside her raggedy ass head.
"You got that good hair," Shandi murmured with fake wonder, tugging on the strand as if she expected it to come out. "What do you do to it to make it grow so long?"
Holding back a nasty retort, Keisha said politely, "Nothing much. Just wash it, put some conditioner in it and go." She had told the bothersome woman this numerous times already since working at the school. Jealousy and disbelief must have kept her coming back with the same question.
Born to a seventy-percent Native American mother, all of Keisha's luscious hair was hers. She could not help it if Shandi and Janelle were mad cause they looked like
Flossy Mae's
cousins.
Before Shandi could continue with her fake questions, the door to the lunchroom swung open.
"Good afternoon ladies," said Demarion King smoothly, Hawthorne High's principal. He was dressed in his usual, a business suit and tie. His hair was brushed down with pomade, lending it shiny waves.
In his mid-forties, Demarion was just okay looking and nothing special in Keisha's eyes, but she knew the man thought he was a lady slayer.
"Good afternoon," most of the women responded cheerfully, giving the man their best smiles. They'd give up their pussy to the man too, if they thought that meant a promotion.
The sharply dressed principal swaggered over to the refrigerator and took out a large brown bag, pausing when he saw Keisha standing with Shandi at the counter.
Looking directly into her face with a grave expression, he asked, "Keisha, can I see you in my office for a minute?"
Oh lord what could he want now?
It must have been something bad because he usually sat with the ladies and chatted up the entire lunch break.
With a worried look on her face, Keisha followed the principal from the room to his office, which was just two doors down. On her way out she could've sworn she heard Janelle whispering loudly to the other women, "Her ass is in big trouble now."