Free Upgrade U by Ni-Ni Simone Page A

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    —S OULJA S LIM , “U B OOTIN’ U P”
    B zzzzz …!
“Oh, heck to da nawl, bey-be!” Khya said groggily as she sat up in bed with her silk scarf hanging halfway off of her head and loosely covering her left eye like a hood pirate. “Which one of y’all took an early-morning class?” She squinted her free eye and wildly looked around the room, until she spotted me slamming the palm of my hand on top of my buzzing alarm clock.
    “Have you lost your mind, round?” she spat at me. “Oh, this ‘bout to be a situation.”
    “It surely is,” came out of nowhere. “So unless you want to be handled, you better heed to my public service announcement: Don’t nobody say nothin’ to me until after I have had my coffee and turned on my Aretha Franklin CD.”
    What’da …
“Coffee?” I frowned. “Aretha Franklin? Shae, are you delusional?” I said as I fell back onto my pillow.
    True story: We’d been able to rise and shine easily al-most every morning with glee last week. And that was because … well … every day felt like we were headed to a party. But today was the first day of classes and it seemed that all of our energy had suddenly fled from our bodies and left us for dead.
    I lay in complete silence for at least ten more minutes. My eyes were heavy and I wanted nothing more than to drift peacefully back to sleep, but I knew I needed to get up early—to put my gear together if for no other reason. After all, this may have been college, but the silent fashion show never ceased. Don’t trip.
    Suddenly a smile loomed on my face and I knew right away what I’d be throwing on today: tight-and-glove-fitted, destroyed-and-distressed-washed jeans with splashes of multicolored paint all over them, a black midriff halter, and four-inch strappy stilettos. For my accessories I would rock hoop earrings and multicolored jelly bracelets.
    Can you say ka’yute?
    I turned my head and looked at the clock: 6 A.M.
Maybe I could steal ten more minutes of sleep—
    “Come on, divas, time to get up, wash the night funk from ya butts, wipe the brown crust out ya eyes, get the phlegm out ya throat, and puhlease handle them wedgies, ‘cause you had a big one the other day, Khya—”
    “Shae,” Khya snapped, “I don’t need you calling me out about my wedgie. I told you my thong was twisted.”
    “Ill,” I said as I shook my head. “Just gross.”
    “Hmph,” Khya grunted. “Nothing is worse than that music you’re playing. What happened to your Soulja Slim CD?”
    “Y’all better learn to appreciate Ree-Ree” dropped into the air.
    “Who, Shae?” Khya frowned.
    “Why do y’all keep calling me out of my sleep?” Shae said, sounding as if she’d been in a coma for a million years. She rolled over on her back and placed her pillow over her face. “I need at least five more minutes of sleep before I’m able to move. Now stop calling me.”
    I was completely confused. “Weren’t you just talking about Aretha—”
    “That was me!” A series of pounds beat against the wall with every word, rattling my Trey Songz poster. “Courtney!”
    Instantly I was pissed, especially since I almost fell out the bed from being scared to death. The last thing I expected this morning was a talking wall. I took my fist and beat against it like crazy.
    “Owwwwl!” Courtney screamed, and the sound of a glass falling and rolling across the floor roared from behind the wall. “I’ma pray for you, Seven, because I know that was you. All I’ve been is nice to you and you over here tryna cut me! Banging on the wall and you know I got a glass to it! Keep it up and I’ma—”
    “Courtney—”
    “Wait a minute, Seven, hold that argument, ‘cause I think …” His voice started to fade. “I smell something! Oh … I’m ‘bout to mess … him … up. You better come get your lil cousin, Seven!” And the next thing I heard was Courtney and Lil Bootsy threatening to beat down one another.
    “We need to change