The Queen Bee of Bridgeton (6 page)

"I don't like myself very much," he began suddenly. I would've asked why, but my mouth was full of food. Thankfully, he kept talking. "That day I knocked you over with the closet door…the way you looked at me…it was like you could see through me.
Like you could see the real me.
That's something
I
can't even see anymore."

I swallowed and said, "The door just probably knocked something loose in my head. It was nothing."

"And then you said I had sad eyes," he said, ignoring my response. "And…and you're exactly right." He sighed and stared at his still tightly wrapped food. "So I wanted to know how is it that someone I'd never spoken to or even seen before could know me with just one look. So, yes, I
kinda
started stalking you."

My eyes expanded and I nearly choked on a new bite of food.

"Don't worry, I haven't been watching you undress or anything. I mean the only place you go is to that dance studio. So, I've watched you dance. Sometimes on Sundays you're in the studio for hours and I'll stand across the street and watch you through the window. The way you close your eyes and let the music move you, you seem so free, so at peace. And it makes me feel the kind of peace I haven't been able to feel in years."

Will took out his sandwich and carefully cut it into three pieces. Then he separated his fries into three piles.

"Here, eat this," he said, handing me a French fry.

"Why?"

"There are sixteen."

"So?"

"Sixteen isn't divisible by three."

I didn't know why that mattered but I took the fry anyway and ate it.

"What I'm trying to say is that," he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think you're unique, talented, beautiful, kind, and even a little weird sometimes."

"Weird?"

"Yes, weird. I like weird."

"I'll tell you what's weird. This date is weird."

"Oh, so you admit this is a date?" He smiled. Wow, he had a gorgeous smile. No wonder he easily got what he wanted from women. I barely knew him, but one glimpse of his smile made my stomach pirouette.

"I have to go now," I said, glancing at my watch.

"You still have ten minutes. Just sit and eat with me and then I'll walk you back."

Already nearly done with my food I sat back and watched him devour his. He seemed to eat with some sort of calculated method. He started with the center pile of food, ate the sandwich then the middle French fry then one to the right, then one to the left, then right, then left. Then he repeated the process with the right pile of food. Before he started on the last pile I said, "Why are you telling me all this? You don't even know me, but you're telling me that you have a psychiatrist, you're sad, and you're part stalker. What if I tell other people? Wouldn't that ruin your basketball superhero status?"

He swallowed and said, "First of all, I've played basketball my entire life. It's the only thing that keeps me from going completely insane. I never asked for 'superhero status' as you call it. I'll play no matter what people think of me. Second of all, I know you won't tell people. You're not like that."

He was right about that much. This boy obviously had problems and I wasn't the type of person to go proclaiming them to anyone who would listen. I felt his pain. I couldn't imagine what kind of agonizing secrets lay hidden under his popular boy façade.

We walked back to the studio in silence. It was such an awkward date, that is, if I wanted to call it a date. It only lasted a few minutes, but I felt so connected to him already. And I had to admit I felt pretty special still holding my roses. I had never gotten flowers from a boy before. He was so different from what I imagined him to be. Deep down I knew I really wanted to know him about as much he wanted to know me.

"Can I give you a ride home when you finish here tonight?" he asked once we stood in front of the studio.

Crap. He wanted to take me home. I couldn't let him do that. Sasha would kill me. Hopefully, he hadn't stalked me enough to already know where I live. Plus, I had just met this guy. For all I knew he could be a serial killer.
A cute serial killer, but a serial killer nonetheless.
I didn't want him knowing where I lived so soon.

"No, that's alright. I'll be fine."

"Can I call you tonight?"

"I don't have a cell phone and my home phone is…" I didn't want him to know my phone was disconnected because we couldn't pay the bill. Not having enough money for a snack is one thing; not being able to pay your phone bill is just plain embarrassing. "My home phone is broken," I said simply, hoping he wouldn't press the issue further.

"Can I give you a ride to school in the morning?"

I sighed. I felt bad saying no to all of his polite requests. He suddenly looked like a wounded little boy. I decided on a compromise. "How about you meet me here in the morning and we can ride to school together?"

"That'll work," he said with a brightness entering his eyes. "I'll see you at a quarter to seven." He turned toward his car, but then stopped, turned and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Good bye, Sonya."

I stayed at the studio so late that night that I missed the last bus.
Which meant I had to walk home to
Venton
Heights.
Alone.
I hated that.  I literally feared for my life.  That was not the way it should be.  No one should be terrified of where they lived. Sasha wasn't afraid.  She fit in so well, she knew no one would mess with her.

"Hey, white girl," I heard
LaPorscha
Bennett call as I walked through
Venton
Heights after midnight.  That was her nickname for me.  Ever since my first day in
Venton
Heights she thought I acted like a stuck up white girl and she took it upon herself to give me daily reminders of who I was and where I came from.  Things got worse when I became skilled in ballet.  She would take my dance bag and ruin my leotards and shoes.

LaPorscha's
daily reminders became more physical in the fifth grade after Boo Man gave me a Valentine's Day card.  Tyrell
Fitts
earned the nickname Boo Man because of his uncanny ability to just appear when people least expected it and scare them half to death.

Unbeknownst to me, Tyrell was
LaPorscha's
man.  I was naively unaware that a fifth grader could stake claims on men or that a fifth grade boy could even be considered a man.  In any case, I had committed an unforgivable grievance against
LaPorscha
.  Six years later she was still seeking revenge over a fifth grade romance. 
LaPorscha
had a two-year-old son from Tyrell, but for some reason she still saw me as a threat.

"White girl, I'm talking to you."  I could hear the animosity in her voice.  I quickened my pace and focused on my apartment building.  Just a few more paces and I would be there.

I actually found myself wishing Tyrell would mysteriously appear as he often times did.  Underneath his hard gang banger exterior loomed a really nice guy.  Over the years, he'd developed into one of the most powerful gang members in the neighborhood, but not by physically fighting his enemies.  He used other methods of intimidation to keep control of his area and somehow he always knew what went on with everyone everywhere. When he was around, all he had to do was look at a person to put them in their place.  When he was around,
LaPorscha
paid no attention to me.  Unfortunately, he wasn't around tonight.

"I said
,
I'm talking to you.  Don't ignore me."  I could see her out of the corner of my eye.  Even if I started running, she could catch me.  I felt the inevitability of a fight creep up my spine and tense my neck.  It had been about six or seven months since my last run in with her, I guess I was due for another brawl.  It came with the territory, one of the requirements of living in
Venton
Heights.  I stopped walking, sighed and turned to her.

"You think you're too good to talk to me now that you go to that rich white school?"  There was no right answer to a question like that.  If I said yes, well, that was a beat down.  And if I said no, well, she wouldn't believe me anyway, and that was still a beat down.

"Why don't you go take care of your son, Saturn, or Mitsubishi or whatever the hell his name is?"  I tried to sound brave even though tears welled behind my eyes just waiting to gush forth. Her son's name was
Tercel
, like the car.  I thought it was ridiculous for people to name their children after automobiles, but I guess she wanted to carry on the tradition.

LaPorscha
swung at me and I dodged it.  I had gotten into so many fights with that girl that I basically knew all of her moves.  I could honestly say I even had a few victories under my belt.

As always,
LaPorscha
grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground.  She climbed on top of me and started punching me in the face.  I reached through her arms, grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled so hard I thought I might have ripped out her weave.  She screamed in agony as I kicked her off of me with both legs.  I scrambled to my feet and ran home.

"What happened?"  Sasha asked as I burst into our bedroom.  I was shaking so hard I couldn't even respond.  "Was it
LaPorscha
?" she asked as she sat me down on the bed and hugged me.  I nodded.  "It's okay, sweetie.  Sasha's here."

"Oh no…my bag!"
I suddenly realized I'd entered the apartment empty handed.  "I have a brand new pair of
pointe
shoes in there.  They cost me seventy-five dollars. I can't afford a new pair.  I need my shoes."

"Don't worry, I'll get them."  Sasha stood up and started changing out of her nightclothes.

"But she could still be out there," I said fearing what
LaPorscha
would do to her.  Sasha gave me a 'so what if she is' kind of look and continued changing. 

"It's about
time that bitch
learned to leave my sister alone," she said as she quickly wound her hair into a bun and dashed out the door. 

Two hours later Sasha plopped my dance bag on my bed and said, "
LaPorscha
will never bother you again." 

And she didn't.

Will showed up at the studio the next morning right after I'd finished vacuuming the lobby. He carried a bagel, a vanilla latte, and more flowers. This time white calla lilies. "Good lord, Will. More flowers? Did you rob a florist?" I asked when I let him in the studio.

He smiled.
"Nope.
No need for violence. They respond kindly to cash."

I let him have a seat while I went to find a vase. "You don't have to bring me flowers every time you see me," I said when I returned.