back to his mellow schedule.
âHey, lady,â Jeremy says, putting his right arm around my shoulders as I step into stride with him. He bends down, meeting my lips for a proper good morning hello.
âHey, baby,â I say, returning the affection as we head toward our government class. Mrs. Petersonâs probably already there, with her perpetually grumpy ass. Sheâs been more stoic than ever lately, only speaking to us to grunt out her orders for the day. I guess sheâs ready for summer to get here just like the rest of us.
âDid I just see you in the cheer line?â Jeremy asks. The idea still sounds so foreign. We never talked about it, but I think Jeremyâs secretly hoping I donât become a member of the pep squad.
âYes, you did, and before you say anything, yes, I really am.â
Jeremy looks down at me like he doesnât recognize his girlfriend, but then softens his face into a smile. âHey, I didnât say a word. And you know Iâm down for you no matter what, Lady J,â Jeremy says, taking my backpack from my right shoulder and carrying it to my desk. Who says chivalry is dead?
âI appreciate that, Mr. Weiner,â I say, kissing him again before entering the grim room. It smells like Bengay and coffee in here, and itâs colder than necessary if you ask me. âHave you spoken to Chance this morning?â I ask, taking my seat before Jeremy sits down next to me in our assigned row.
âNo, and I called to check on him. Iâm sure heâs just taking a day off, but you wouldnât know anything about that now would you, Miss Jackson?â Jeremyâs right. I never rest, but I donât feel like thatâs whatâs going on with our boy. I guess Iâll have to do some extra footwork on this one myself. If Chance doesnât show up to Mr. Adewaleâs class next period, Iâm going to take more drastic measures to share my dream with him. After all, his mother called me and I have to answer before itâs too late.
Â
Chance still hasnât returned any of my messages from this morning and because Jeremy and Nellie also havenât heard from him, Iâm more worried than before. I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Sinclair if it was okay for me to be a little late to fifth period to see about her favorite student, and she was more than cool with it. I bet if it had been me in need, my ass would have been out of luck.
I pull up to Chanceâs mini Palos Verdes mansion and notice the flawless Chevy Nova parked in the driveway. The mere sight of the crimson classic makes my heart jump. It feels so good driving that thing, but thatâs not why Iâm here. I step out of my car and walk toward the house. Itâs too still around here for me. No matter how nice the neighborhood is, white folks have their fair share of family drama, too. I stopped by Taco Bell and grabbed Chance some lunch, mainly because Iâm hungry and it is lunchtime. We both have to eat, and what better way to talk than by breaking tacos together?
I ring the doorbell on the massive oak-and-stained-glass front door. Without asking who it is, Chance opens the door looking like he just rolled out of bed.
âI decided to come and check on you since you canât return a sistahâs calls and you decided to play hooky today,â I say, stepping into the foyer and handing him his lunch. I can hear his mom on the phone in the living room and she doesnât sound happy.
âYeah, sorry about that. Iâve had a lot on my mind,â Chance says, closing the door behind us and smelling his lunch. He looks like heâs been through hell and back. âCome on in,â he says, ushering us into the dining room where we can eat and chill for a minute. We sit across from each other, both emptying the contents of our feast onto the marble table, ready to dig in. I can hear Mrs. Carmichael on the phone saying the words
âHey, lady,â Jeremy says, putting his right arm around my shoulders as I step into stride with him. He bends down, meeting my lips for a proper good morning hello.
âHey, baby,â I say, returning the affection as we head toward our government class. Mrs. Petersonâs probably already there, with her perpetually grumpy ass. Sheâs been more stoic than ever lately, only speaking to us to grunt out her orders for the day. I guess sheâs ready for summer to get here just like the rest of us.
âDid I just see you in the cheer line?â Jeremy asks. The idea still sounds so foreign. We never talked about it, but I think Jeremyâs secretly hoping I donât become a member of the pep squad.
âYes, you did, and before you say anything, yes, I really am.â
Jeremy looks down at me like he doesnât recognize his girlfriend, but then softens his face into a smile. âHey, I didnât say a word. And you know Iâm down for you no matter what, Lady J,â Jeremy says, taking my backpack from my right shoulder and carrying it to my desk. Who says chivalry is dead?
âI appreciate that, Mr. Weiner,â I say, kissing him again before entering the grim room. It smells like Bengay and coffee in here, and itâs colder than necessary if you ask me. âHave you spoken to Chance this morning?â I ask, taking my seat before Jeremy sits down next to me in our assigned row.
âNo, and I called to check on him. Iâm sure heâs just taking a day off, but you wouldnât know anything about that now would you, Miss Jackson?â Jeremyâs right. I never rest, but I donât feel like thatâs whatâs going on with our boy. I guess Iâll have to do some extra footwork on this one myself. If Chance doesnât show up to Mr. Adewaleâs class next period, Iâm going to take more drastic measures to share my dream with him. After all, his mother called me and I have to answer before itâs too late.
Â
Chance still hasnât returned any of my messages from this morning and because Jeremy and Nellie also havenât heard from him, Iâm more worried than before. I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Sinclair if it was okay for me to be a little late to fifth period to see about her favorite student, and she was more than cool with it. I bet if it had been me in need, my ass would have been out of luck.
I pull up to Chanceâs mini Palos Verdes mansion and notice the flawless Chevy Nova parked in the driveway. The mere sight of the crimson classic makes my heart jump. It feels so good driving that thing, but thatâs not why Iâm here. I step out of my car and walk toward the house. Itâs too still around here for me. No matter how nice the neighborhood is, white folks have their fair share of family drama, too. I stopped by Taco Bell and grabbed Chance some lunch, mainly because Iâm hungry and it is lunchtime. We both have to eat, and what better way to talk than by breaking tacos together?
I ring the doorbell on the massive oak-and-stained-glass front door. Without asking who it is, Chance opens the door looking like he just rolled out of bed.
âI decided to come and check on you since you canât return a sistahâs calls and you decided to play hooky today,â I say, stepping into the foyer and handing him his lunch. I can hear his mom on the phone in the living room and she doesnât sound happy.
âYeah, sorry about that. Iâve had a lot on my mind,â Chance says, closing the door behind us and smelling his lunch. He looks like heâs been through hell and back. âCome on in,â he says, ushering us into the dining room where we can eat and chill for a minute. We sit across from each other, both emptying the contents of our feast onto the marble table, ready to dig in. I can hear Mrs. Carmichael on the phone saying the words
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