Read Online Indigo Summer by Monica McKayhan - Free Book Online Page A

She handed me one.
    â€œHello, Mrs. Summer. I’m Tameka.” She reached for my mother’s hand.
    Mama took her hand, and I could tell she was impressed with her manners. “Nice to meet you, Tameka. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
    â€œNice to meet you, too,” she said. “Mommy, can I show Indi my room?”
    â€œYes, if it’s alright with Carolyn.” We all looked at my mother.
    â€œCan I stay, Mama?” I asked.
    It had already been established that her decision about me spending the night would be made after, and only after she’d met Tameka and her mother.
    â€œI suppose so,” she said. “But you better behave and mind your manners.”
    I knew what that meant and always made sure I didn’t make people think I didn’t have any home training. “Don’t embarrass me” is what Mama’s words meant.
    â€œCome on, let’s go,” Tameka said, and I followed her up a flight of stairs on the backside of the kitchen and down a long hallway to her bedroom, my tube socks making a squishing noise in the carpet.
    Her room was decorated in pinks and whites, and posters of Bobby Valentino, Pretty Ricky and Omarion were plastered on the walls. Her full-sized canopy bed was neatly made, and her closet was so full of clothes and shoes that the door wouldn’t even shut. She closed her bedroom door behind us and pressed the power button on her CD player.
    â€œWhat you wanna hear?” she asked, and fell backwards onto her bed. “I have all the latest CDs…everything!”
    â€œI like rap,” I said, and started looking through her stacks of CDs.
    â€œI have everything by Snoop, Kanye West, 50…everybody…” she said. “My dad’s a producer.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYep, he’s at the studio right now,” she said. “He works with a lot of local talent, and some famous people, too.”
    â€œYou have Ludacris?”
    She hit a button on the remote that controlled the CD player and Ludacris’s voice rang through the speakers.
    â€œI like some stuff by Luda,” she said. “But I’m not much into rap.”
    â€œWho do you like?”
    â€œUsher, Omarion…Omarion is so cute!” She laughed.
    â€œHe’s alright,” I said. “But what about Nelly?”
    â€œHe’s definitely a hottie,” she said. “But I don’t know very many girls our age who like hard-core rap, Indi. I mean, I like some rap.”
    â€œWell, I’m not like many girls our age,” I said. “Everybody’s different. That’s what makes us all unique. If everybody liked the same stuff, how boring would that be?”
    â€œI guess you’re right,” she said. “I don’t like all the cussin’, though.”
    â€œI don’t either. I just listen to the edited versions,” I told her, and then lay across her bed. “I like dancing to rap mostly.”
    â€œI guess.” She smiled, and walked over to the window. “Your mom’s leaving.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYep. I guess it’s official that you get to spend the night,” she said. “You wanna go to the mall now?”
    â€œYep.”
    It seemed that everybody from the south side of Atlanta had decided to visit Southlake Mall at the same time on Saturday afternoon. As we sifted through tables filled with underwear at Victoria’s Secret, I suddenly missed Jade. Missed our Saturdays at the mall. From sunup to sundown, we used to shop until we dropped. Window shopped, that is, because most of the time we were broke. The money we did manage to squeeze out of our parents, was used for a bite to eat at the food court, a CD, a shirt, or occasionally, a pair of jeans, and not the designer ones. We didn’t care about having money; it was fun just hanging out together. I missed Jade, but Tameka was just as fun. Even though our music tastes were