she had calm down after that bout at the chicken spot.
“She better check herself,” Coco said.
“And don’t wreck herself,” Josephine added. Both girls laughed as they made tracks to the bus stop.
“I’m gonna take a walk over to the library next to her place. It’s real quiet in there, yo.”
“You know you’re always welcome to study at my place. Dad is never home and my mom won’t mind.” Josephine offered.
“No, that’s okay. But thanks, Jo.” Coco said.
The bus pulled up. Both girls showed passes and took seats. Coco reached for her headphones. Josephine watched as the huge tires of the bus splattered the puddle and the water-logged cigarette. With a turn of the wheel, both became nothing. Coco and Josephine watched passengers board and leave the bus. As it moved uptown, fewer suits and ties got on and more got off. Then it was Coco’s stop.
“Don’t study too hard, girlfriend. Wednesday is rehearal,” Josephine said.
She offered her fist, pointing to Coco. Coco touched fists and left the bus. Her bop came to life as she neared the brown glass doors of the gray library. She stopped to catch a smoke.
Danielle is just being a bitch, she thought. I know she ain’t even close to me in dancing, and the bitch definitely can’t sing. All she does is swing her long hair in your face. That’s the reason I had to move up to the front. Anyway, people know I’m the lead. They know. Maybe that’s the reason she hangs out with so many boys. She trying to win a popularity contest. Well, if it’s a contest she wants, she’s coming to the right one.
Coco flicked the cigarette away. Now she wished she had-n’t put off rehearsal until Wednesday. But the calculus test was tomorrow, and she wanted to score high. Coco walked into the library, still dwelling on Danielle’s petty lunchtime outburst. She thinks she’s all that. We’ll see.
“A-h-h-h,” she breathed as she sat down and pulled her calculus book out of her knapsack. Too bad I can’t study at home, she thought. I could study and just fall asleep. This place is mad quiet. Wish I could take it home.
Calculus began. She let it take over her mind, and after a couple of hours it was over. She shouldered the knapsack and headed for the bus stop. On the way, she spotted Danielle and her new boyfriend.
“Hi. What are you doing around these parts?” Danielle asked. She already knew the answer.
“Trying to set up one of these nice apartments,” Coco said.
“Be careful. There are plenty of cops around here. You don’t want to mess around and get caught,” said the boyfriend. There was lipstick all over his mouth, but he seemed alright. And he was good looking.
“Oh, Coco, this is Cory. Cory, this Coco, my ace boon,” Danielle said sounding a little giddy.
“Hi, what’s popping, Cory,” Coco said. “I gotta bounce. Here comes my bus.”
“Wait-up Coco, I’ll give you a ride. I mean, Cory’s driving, and we just gotta go get a bottle of Alize. I’m sure—”
“Nah, that’s all good, yo. You guys go ahead and do what y’all were gonna do. I’m gonna catch this bus. Nice to see ya. Peace.”
The bus came, and she got on. Now she’s gonna get real nice, like nothing happened, thought Coco. Fuck her and her ride. That’s what that nigga getting ready to do, anyway. Lipstick all over his face
Damn! She almost said it out loud. The bus lurched forward, and Coco fell back into the seat. Her thoughts switched to home. What kind of mood is Mom gonna be in? She wondered as she got off the bus and moved toward the broken glass doors of the dirty brick building. The crack-heads lurched in and out. Home, sweet home, she thought as she pushed by them and into the building.
“Hi, Coco,” they shouted.
“Peace,” she said, without turning around. She headed for the elevator, but the sign on the door read: ‘Out of Service.’
“Shit!” Coco trudged to the stairwell and up the stairs. She reached the apartment door where a sign should be posted: You’re now entering hell, Coco thought. The peephole looked as if it was made by a stray bullet. Let’s see what the devil’s gonna cook up this evening. Maybe she’ll be too drunk to deal with life. Coco’s mind tried to enter before her body. This type of mind-game prepared her for whatever came next: Think it’s worse, maybe it’ll be better.
A door squeaked open. It was Miss Katie, the widow from 3D. Her apartment was toward the entrance of the building and from her window she could see both corners of the streets below.
“Hi Coco. How are you doing?” Ms. Katie asked. “It’s been about a month now, right Coco?”
“Yes, Miss Katie,” Coco answered politely. It was not her usual style, but Katie Patterson was different from the other neighbors. She was in her fifty’s and still looked young and bright. Her husband was killed in Viet Nam, she would say during times she allowed herself to talk about him. Coco knew him only as Sgt. Patterson. Miss Katie didn’t sit around moping; she went back to college and earned her bachelor’s degree.
Coco admired her greatly for accomplishing that. Miss Katie did this while raising and sending her children, Roxy and Robert, to none other than Princeton University. Coco smiled at Miss Katie, who deserved a lot of respect and love. The teen gladly gave it up to the elderly lady.
“Well, I’m pleased to report that she didn’t go down to the dens today,” Miss Katie reported, as if she was reciting her daily orders.
“That’s good news,” Coco beamed. She’d been getting that account since her mother came out of drug rehab a month ago and was continuing counseling on an out-patient basis.
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