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“What you gone do?”
“No! Y’all will not be fighting in here!” Hell, they weren’t even paying me for this. I was missing out on money to be here. I was not about to play security. I tried to ignore it, but I had a heart. I wasn’t going to let it go too far. I went to approach them, and Sam shocked me when she threw the first punch and knocked Queandra on her ass. Sammy created a perfect storm of blows and rained down on Queandra before I could get between them. Not that I was rushing to do so. Oohs rang out from all over the classroom. I couldn’t separate them quickly enough and hit the call button for security. As soon as security walked in, I walked out. This couldn’t be it. I don’t know what other options I had for community service, but I was going to find out. There had to be something else I could do because these little hellions were going to be the death of me.
I marched directly into the director’s office. I opened the door without as much as a warning, and the flush red color on Ms. Donohue’s face told me she did not appreciate my presence. Well, that was just fine with me because I didn’t appreciate her ass, either. I could tell she was just here for the check and didn’t care about these students. She was giving out the bare minimum to keep her own pockets lined. All this damn program did was feed the kids and give them a warm place to stay off the block until seven p.m. There was no skill building and no structure. No wonder it was a complete shit show.
“Aleisha—"
“Look, Ms. Donohue.” I pinched the bridge of my nose to calm myself as her face deepened from beet red to crimson. She rose from her seat and smoothed down her flowered dress thatcould have doubled as a drape. No sense of style could be traced. She was a healthy woman with blond hair falling to the middle of her back. I was all for women's empowerment no matter the size, but I hated that she didn’t dress herself up more. She was a miserable woman. I flopped down in the chair, hoping to hold on to some semblance of decorum. I had to push to the back of my mind that she rubbed me the wrong way since the day I met her. I needed her help. “I can’t do this. These kids. I’m not qualified.” My words came out as choppy sentences.
“No one here is qualified outside of me. You only have another week. I’m sure you can make it,” she said smugly, and I wanted to knock the smirk right off her white ass face.
“Well, give me something else to do besides sitting in a classroom with a bunch of kids and nothing to entertain them with. Isn't there some programming here? The point is to keep kids off the street, but now that they are here, what the hell are we supposed to do with them? They should have something to focus on.”
“For someone who isn’t qualified you sure do have a lot of ideas.”
“Excuse me?” I sat up.
“Your assignment is your assignment. If you weren’t so busy spending your nights doing God knows what, maybe you could devise a lesson plan.”
I popped my head back and looked at this bitch like she was crazy. Maybe one of her male friends had the pleasure of seeing my brown ass and she couldn’t take it. Instead of being mad, she could ask me for tips. It hurt that I had to button my lips to this pompous ass bitch, but she had my freedom in her hands. As bad as this was, it wasn’t worse than jail. All I had to do was get through the next week, and I was going to be donewith it, but I still wasn’t leaving this office without telling her how I felt.
“You know what. It’s a damn shame you're more worried about my ass than these kids. If you were nice enough, I could’ve shown you something. Then again you would probably be too damn lazy to take pleasure in it anyway.” I walked straight out not waiting for her to say another word. I couldn’t take it. The day I received that stamp on my community service papers, I was going to double back and go the hell off on this bitch just on principle. I stalked down the hallway, hearing my heels clack on the tile floors. I stopped and rested my head against the lockers. I checked my phone, and I got a text from Devin.
Don’t trip on that shit. You know I would have been there if I could have.
That was a situation I did not have the energy for in the current state. Instead of a smart reply, I just left him on read, determined to get through the last twenty minutes of my day. Seven was around the corner, and I was looking for that ass in the daytime with a flashlight.
“Alesha!” I took a deep breath when I heard that voice. Mrs. Ramos was cool as far as I knew. She didn’t say too much, but for the most part, she tried to help. When I turned around, even after the type of day I had, I put a smile on my face. Mrs. Ramos was just warm like that. She reminded me of one of those old church ladies who called you sweetie and baby all the time. Not the faking ones but those who meant what they said down to the core.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Rough day baby?” She rested her hand on my shoulder, and I felt some weight lift off.
“I just don’t understand what’s going on. They put me in this class with over thirty kids and didn’t give me any guidance. I go into the office, and that bi—" I cut my words short. I was the type to say anything around anyone, but Mrs. Ramos was old enough to be someone’s grandmother.
“I know what you mean. These walls are so thin I overheard it all anyway. I was thinking maybe you need a change. Why don’t we switch classes? I think you would do better with the teenagers. Kids can be harder. So fickle.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t see how that would help.”
“Most of them come and are self-sufficient. Either on their phones or trying to sneak off somewhere humpin' around.”
“What?” I squealed through a laugh. I hadn’t heard anybody call it humping in a long, long time.
“Girl yeah. One of the 14-year-olds is pregnant right now. It’s a shame. Babies are raising babies, but somebody gotta be here for them. As you can see, not too many around here care. It may have been a tragic situation that landed you here, but try to get some good out of it. These kids need somebody.” She shoved her keys in my hand and walked toward the class I first left.
Fourteen and pregnant? How the hell does that even happen? I mean, I knew exactly how it happened, but where the hell were her parents? Probably the same damn place mine were at that age. God knows where. It wasn’t the first- or last time parents were dropping the ball because I knew about it all too well. My sister and I were the product of an affair. My father was a minister from what I know and had kids all over the damn place with a woman committed to covering up his wrongdoings as much as he was. My mother ran after him stealing any moment she could even if it meant leaving us to our own devicesto feign for ourselves. Everything happens for a reason because when it really became time for us to go through that path we knew how to navigate it expertly. It was sad, and a lot of the kids had to be going through the same thing, but now my ducks were just as fucking scattered as anyone else. While Mrs. Ramos was a person who saw the silver lining in everything, I wasn’t on the same wavelength.
I refused to go back to the clubs after this. I would never regret the paths that I had to go down to survive, but stripping did not come with a retirement plan. Once this stint was up I had to get a real job. My savings were depleted, and I couldn’t hide under a rock forever. Devin gave me money, and I couldn’t lie. It was much needed since my income had been zero since I started serving this community service. I wouldn't say I liked that feeling though. I wanted to depend on myself.
The bell sounded and the kids filed out of the room before I could walk in. They must have known I couldn’t take another thing. I had a tall glass of wine at my house with my name on it. My girls were coming over, and today, more than ever, I needed them.
***
“Ooh, see hell, nah! Them kids are bad as hell!” Nesha said as she sipped the red wine. Her taupe dress blended with the sectional couch she sat on in my living room. Satisa coughed, and tears rushed to my lips as she choked on her juice. She was over there fighting for her life like Nesha told the funniest joke while my arms were folded across my chest.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Don’t be like that, boo. I told you. You gotta stop fighting like that. Don’t worry about what these people say. Everywhere I go, they have always been jealous of you two. Even at thesalon, I had to check them because they swear I always do y’all hair better,” Satisa, my best friend, finished. She earned that title quickly because she was the only one we felt comfortable allowing in our circle. She was more like a third sister.
