Free No Boyz Allowed by Ni-Ni Simone Page B

Ny’eem is a cool dude. And if he wasn’t feeling you he wouldn’t have even kicked it to you. So he must like you.”
    “Really?” I couldn’t stop smiling.
    “Close your mouth. And yeah, really. If Ny’eem gave you his number then he’s diggin’ you.”
    “Maybe I’ll just talk to him when I see him this morning.”
    “You won’t. He doesn’t go to school here, he lives on the block but he goes to a private school. They recruited him to play ball.”
    “Word?”
    “Yup. And you know they tried to recruit me, too.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah, I tried out to be a center and they gon’ recruit me to be the mascot. What I look like running around with a hot-and-played bear costume on?”
    All I could do was laugh. Actually, I laughed so hard I cried.
    “I don’t find that funny,” Man-Man said. “I’m a little sensitive about that.”
    “Oh, okay. I’m sorry.” I did my best to stop giggling. “My fault.”
    “Anyway,” Man-Man said quickly changing the subject, “while Ny’eem’s over at his school running thangs I’m here in Brick City High handling my lane—the mac game.” He took the key from the ignition. “So what you gon’ do? You gon’ call him or what?”
    “I—”
    “Excuse me, Gem,” Man-Man cut me off as a group of girls walked past the car. “Hold that thought for a few hours.” He got out of the car, dipped across the lot, and walked over to the group of girls who quickly enveloped him. No good-bye. No see you later. Nothing. Just a cloud of dust left behind.
    I eased out the car and leaned against the door. I turned my head and looked around the school’s parking lot. It was a sea of color, varying fashion, and teens of all shapes and sizes. There were cackles of laughter, buzzing conversations filled the air, and teachers patrolled the parking lot.
    I walked over to the school—an enormous, three-story, beige brick building—and walked in through the glass door. There were pockets of cliques everywhere, which caused me to be hesitant once I stood at the top of the hallway.
    I hated starting all over again.
    New friends.
    New teachers.
    Ugh, I was so not beat for this.

12
    M y stilettos clapped against the tile floor as I put one four-inch heel in front of the other, and did my all to ease to my locker. My intention was to keep a low profile and peep things out. Find out who was real, who was phony, and whose mouth was always in somebody’s business. This way I’d know when to keep my distance. It’s not that I was an angel. I mean, sometimes I liked to watch ish unfold—a little—I just didn’t like drama sneaking up on me. I preferred a warning.
    Feel me?
    Exactly. So I decided to creep to my locker while nobody noticed me.
    “Geeeeeem!” Pop shrieked my name like a bolt of lightning. Everyone turned and looked dead in my face.
    So much for incognito . . .
    Pop carried on. “Over here, girl! Over here!” She blew a pink bubble and popped it while placing one hand on her hip and the other in the air. “That’s my girl right there!” she broadcasted to the crowd in the hallway. “Yup, that’s right! My best-bestie in the whole world. Okay!” She paused, took a breath, and continued, “Let me tell y’all something, you may think these lil freaks, and frenemies, and so called homies are your friends, but none of them are like this chick right here. ’Cause this chick is totally different. She knows the meaning of having her girl’s back fa’ sho.” Pop parked her hips one way and her neck another. “Now don’t hate, appreciate and get ya clap on for my homegirl, Gem!”
    And as if that speech itself wasn’t embarrassing enough some folks really clapped their hands. I didn’t know if they were being anti-hatin’, sarcastic, or if Pop had enough popularity and pull to make me a rock star. But whatever it was I had to live up to my rep at the moment so I kicked things up to a red carpet notch and hit ’em with a Beyoncé strut down the