Read Online Ex-girl to the Next Girl by Daaimah S. Poole - Free Book Online Page A

phone.
    â€œExcuse me. No, I did not put my hands on your child. Your son disrupted the class and then he said he was going to bang me.”
    â€œWhat did you do to him?” she asked, like there was a reason that could justify him for threatening his teacher. I was not going to bother rationalizing with the woman. I told her I was conducting a class, and if she wanted to speak to me she could make an appointment.
    At lunch I went to the office, where there were phones ringing and students sitting, waiting to be disciplined. There were blue mints sitting on the counter, and I grabbed one and waited for Mr. Mitchell. Most days he was usually very understanding. I hope today he would understand that I could not tolerate Tyreek Freeman anymore.
    â€œMs. Clark, are you waiting for me?” he asked, grabbing papers out of the holder outside his door.
    â€œYes,” I said as I stood up. He instructed me to come in. The moment he closed the door, I said, “Mr. Mitchell, I can’t take it. Get him out of my class!”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œTyreek Freeman—he said he is going to bang me. The mother? She doesn’t think he does anything wrong. And I’m not going to be disrespected.”
    â€œCan you just deal with it for the rest of the school year? I really don’t want to move him. I’ll give him a three-day and get Mom in here and we will see what we can do and we will talk. Okay?” he asked as he took his eyeglasses off and scratched his head. I didn’t agree or disagree. I guess that was good enough for now. Nothing was really accomplished by our conversation. Mr. Mitchell better do something, I thought. I walked out of the office, grabbing another mint before I left.
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    Toya asked me to go out with her on a Wednesday night to this reggae club. I hate reggae music. I don’t know what the hell they saying. To me, reggae is just fast-talking noise with a good beat.
    We went to Olde City. It’s a part of town where all races and ethnicities hang out. There are rows of restaurant bars and taverns. We entered the bar and had a seat. I noticed Toya’s stomach and told her she better start doing some sit-ups. She had a little gut sticking out of her skinny frame.
    â€œI know,” she said while acknowledging her stomach. She ordered a drink and gestured for me to come over where she was standing. She handed me another drink.
    I noticed there were a few all-right-looking brothers. The first one who made eye contact with me was smiling super-extra hard. I wanted to walk up to him and ask him, “Do you know me? Why you keep looking at me? You don’t know me, so turn around.”
    â€œHey, beautiful.” A brown-complexioned brother approached and attempted to grab my hand. His teeth were crooked and his lips were chapped. I walked away like I didn’t know he was talking to me. The next guy who approached looked okay, but then he opened his mouth. His voice was weak and squeaky like a little girl. He asked, “Is this seat taken?”
    I looked him right in his face and said, “Yes, it is. K-I-M. Keep it moving.”
    I was tired of the men that I didn’t want coming up and saying something. I decided I was going to go up to someone I was interested in and say hello. There he was: Mr. Dark Chocolate with Caramel in the Middle. His face was clean-shaven and he had a mustache. I accidentally brushed against him, letting my firm breast rub against his back. He turned around. His smile looked even better up close. About two inches separated our bodies.
    â€œSorry about that,” I said as I smiled and tried to conceal my intentions.
    â€œIt’s okay.”
    â€œNo, sorry. I’m going to have to make it up to you. What are you drinking?”
    â€œOh, so you’re going to buy me a drink?” He took a long look around the bar. “Really? I’m Quentin, and you?”
    â€œNadine. Here is my number. Call me