Cold As Ice (5 page)

“So how do I protect myself when anyone could be a potential enemy?” This is too much to deal with tonight. “Why can't a friend just be a friend?”

“Jayd, that's like asking why do people die. The world's a cold, harsh place at times, and that is why you need to always protect yourself in every way possible, even from the people who claim they love you.” Mama's right on point with that one. I've been feeling down all day because two of my closest friends think I've betrayed them, when in actuality it's my trust that's been betrayed.

“You're right, and I'm going to change this madness sooner rather than later,” I say, feeling more confident than I have all day. My headache has even lessened. Mama and Netta can make the most difficult problems seem so simple.

“If nothing else, I know you're a fighter for justice, and assassinating our mother's character is the same as attacking us personally. Don't let that little fool get away with that, especially if he's a true devotee like he claims to be. Emilio had better recognize he's fighting a losing battle talking bad about you and your lineage,” Mama says, spraying Netta's finished do with hair sheen. Damn, Mama's got skills.

“That's right, little queen,” Netta says, smacking on her Big Red gum louder than usual, she's so excited about her fresh hair. Mama gives Netta a look in the mirror, and she slows her roll a little bit. They smile at each other, both satisfied with the reflection in the large lighted mirror at the station.

“Your visions are here to help you, even if they do hurt sometimes,” Mama says, alluding to my head injury and other battle wounds from past dreams. “You stand on the shoulders of all the women who came before you, and you have all your ancestors' and Orisha's love and support. Never doubt yourself or your power.”

They're both right. There's no way Emilio can beat me in a presidential campaign for ASU or in a character debate about Oshune. Who the hell does he think he is telling me about myself? Like Oshune, I can be as giving to my friends as a lake full of fish is to a fisherman on a spring morning and as dangerous as that same lake on an ice-cold winter's night. Which side of my personality surfaces is contingent upon what's necessary, and, right now, self-preservation calls for a cool head. That starts with me doing my work—absolutely no distractions allowed.

“K
eep staring into his eyes, that's it. Don't let anything distract you, not for a second,” Mama whispers over my shoulder, watching my eyes as I stare into my father's sleepy browns. “Now think what you want him to think, say what you want him to say.” I look into my father's eyes, now sharing his thoughts.

“It's cold in here, Mama,” I say, but I don't sound like myself. I have my mother's voice, which can only mean that I'm dreaming as her again. Oh hell no, this isn't good. The last time I saw with my mom's powers, I went blind—yet another side effect from Misty's unfortunate claim over my dreams. That was a cold night, and I don't want to go back there again.

“Yes, the mind is naturally a cool place. It is the world around us that makes it hot.” Mama touches my shoulders with both her hands and leans in closer, moving my body to align perfectly with my father's. He's across the small backyard, eating corn on the cob and talking with his friends. And from the feel of it, my mom likes what she sees, sort of how I feel when I see Jeremy walk, run, or do anything else. Oh, this is too weird.

“Okay, Mama, now what do I do?” Mama presses firmly
on my mother's shoulders and jumps into my mom's thoughts, now seeing as she sees. With both powers in my head, I can see everything my father's thinking, from how the food he's eating is too salty to how good my mom looks in her formfitting, emerald sweater dress that sets off her eyes perfectly. “I'm glad I wore this,” I say, smiling at my own taste. I see my mother hasn't changed one bit.

“Yes, chile, but you're missing the lesson as usual. Look and learn, Lynn Marie,” Mama says, now speaking into my father's mind, all the while keeping his eyes locked on my mom's.

“Carter, you're going to ask me to the senior prom,” Mama says, voicing what my mother has wanted for a while now, according to her eighteen-year-old memory. This must be right before my mom and dad were engaged and she abruptly moved out, leaving her powers behind because Esmeralda—our evil neighbor, Mama's nemesis, and Misty's spiritual godmother—stripped her of them out of jealousy. Esmeralda's an old-school hater of Mama's. They were best friends back in the days when they lived in New Orleans, but that all changed when they moved to Compton, and there's been a constant battle between them ever since. No wonder Mama's so happy to have Netta in her life. She knows the other side of friendship, and it's not a comfortable place.

“Carter, you are going to ask me to the senior prom,” my mom repeats. I can feel my father's thoughts forming the same words, completely unaware that he's being mentally coerced into reaching a conclusion he was already thinking but not quite ready to act on. My mom basically made up his mind for him while my dad's thoughts are still cool—without the intrusion of other opinions from his friends or family. I'm sure my mom regrets that action now because he had a pregnant wife at home, and had she done her re-
search through his family, she would have been forewarned. But that's not the point of this lesson.

“And here he comes.” Mama leads the way out of my father's mind, unlocking her visual hold on him first, and then my mother lets go, allowing my dad to follow through with his action. It's nice to know my parents once liked each other, before all the drama got in the way. As he makes his way over to where we're standing by a tree near the barbecue grill, Esmeralda walks in through the gate. But when she gets closer I see that it's actually Misty's spirit who has entered my dream. Her cold blue eyes are glowing, and she directs them straight toward my mother, knowing her icy gaze has no effect on Mama.

“My head,” my mom moans, the pounding in her head mimicking the rush of cold blood surging through her veins. My mom's head feels like a brain freeze times a million, and Misty's loving every moment of it.

“Let go of my daughter, Esmeralda,” Mama says, reclaiming my mom's powers and marching right into Misty's head. Mama quickly jumps into my father's head and sends him to get something to drink from the cooler near the table he was eating at. Mama's got the coldest powers I've encountered yet, able to borrow anyone's sight she needs at the time. Now she fully focuses her attention on my mom, and thank God, because my head can't take much more.

“Lynn Marie, she can't hurt you if you don't let her,” Mama says, whispering into my ear, but I can barely hear her because the noise in my head is so loud. “Remember what you just felt in Carter's mind. That cool, calm feeling is your power. Hold on to it, and Esmeralda's sight will have no hold on you.” So that's how Esmeralda got into my mom's head when my mom left during a heated argument with Mama. My mother was so pissed she literally couldn't
see straight, and Esmeralda was there to seize the moment, breaking my mom down completely.

My mom thinks of the moment that just passed with my father and how easy it felt thinking his thoughts, redirecting that power to use on Esmeralda. Instead of attempting to close her eyes from Esmeralda's lethal stare, she returns the look like a mirror. My mom's eyes glaze over, no longer penetrable by Esmeralda's eyes via Misty, causing the cold blue stare to bounce back on its owner.

“That's it, Lynn Marie. You've got it. Don't be afraid of her,” Mama says, letting go of my mother's shoulders and smiling at her progress. Misty's head is the one pounding now. Completely unaware of everything, my father drinks his water and decides to finish what he started a few moments ago.

“I love this,” my mom says. Misty shivers at the boomerang effect of her cold blow. That's what happens when you throw energy out, whether good or bad—it's bound to come right back at you.

“Well, hello there, ladies,” my dad says, unknowingly distracting my mom's attention and freeing her mental captive. Mama returns the greeting and chooses to leave my parents alone.

With Mama's telepathic departure from my mother's walk down memory lane, I sit up in my bed and turn off my alarm before it sounds. When it's this early, it's so quiet I can actually hear people on the next block performing their early morning tasks, and I can gather my thoughts. My mind is still cool from my mother's powers, and it's a good feeling. Too bad I can't stay this chill all day, but, hopefully, I can remember how good this place feels if Emilio, Misty, or anyone else gets on my nerves today. Mama says the most powerful thing a human being can possess is a calm, cool mind, and after the dream I just experienced, I feel her.

 

So far it's been an easy morning, as South Bay High goes. Mr. Adewale gave us a term-paper assignment in Spanish, due after spring break. I thought it was supposed to be a break, and the other twenty-five students in the class felt the same way. These teachers are serious about keeping their title of being a California Distinguished School. They crack the academic whip all the time, vacations be damned. And I'm so unprepared for our practice English AP exam during second period in a few minutes that if I could find some way out of it, I would. Unlike Jeremy and Mickey—the king and queen of ditching school—I have a mama who would kick my ass if I ever made a habit out of not only missing school but running away from a challenge.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I flip it open. I don't wear a watch, so I use the pink cell as a clock between periods. I quickly read another text from Nellie that says she's going to meet me at Chance's house instead of riding there with me as we originally planned. I'm already regretting agreeing to go with her to Chance's house after school. Nellie sure does know how to get her way. Last night while I attempted to study after work, she texted me repeatedly until I agreed to be her personal cheerleader at the family dinner. If it weren't for Chance also requesting my presence, I probably wouldn't go. I had to give in if I wanted to get any studying done, which wasn't much by the time I got off the phone with her. I'll have to make up for my lack of proper studying tonight after dinner. I already requested this afternoon off from work and can't give up too much of my time for Nellie or anyone else.

Charlotte and her rich-bitch crew are already seated in the row of desks across from mine, ready for the exam. Even Alia looks content seated at the desk next to me. I take my seat and a deep breath, ready to deal with whatever comes of this test. I just want it to be over. The sooner Mrs. Malone gets in here, the better.

“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Malone says, Mrs. Bennett walking in behind her. Doesn't she have her own class to teach? Every time I look up, the broad has got her hands up in someone else's mix. Then I see Jeremy walk in, and the rest of his class follows. I guess the Honors and Advanced Placement classes are joining forces today. Lucky me.

“Good morning, boys and girls,” Mrs. Bennett says, sounding like she's hosting an episode of
Sesame Street
instead of an eleventh-grade English class. She's so fake a blind person could see straight through her.

“We're going to make space for Mrs. Bennett's class to take the exam with us. We will start in exactly one minute, so get comfy,” Mrs. Malone says, directing the students to fill in the twenty or so empty seats in the room while Mrs. Bennett passes out the papers. The AP courses have about half the enrollment of other classes. Jeremy sits across the room, winking at me as he takes his seat. He opted out of the AP track last year, but it's not like he needs the extra stress. Jeremy's had straight As since elementary school and one of the highest grade point averages in the entire school. He can get into almost any college he wants to, as long as he does well on the SAT exams next year.

“And we'll stay through break to grade the exams,” Mrs. Bennett says, being the bearer of bad news that she usually is. “Let's begin.” Mrs. Bennett closes the door and looks at the clock. Like I said before, whatever the outcome, I just want it to be over.

Exactly fifty-five minutes from our start time, Mrs. Malone softly says, “Time,” and we all put our pencils down. That was the most grueling exam I've ever experienced. Some of the words were completely foreign to me, and the concepts in the three short-essay questions were unfamiliar. I consider myself to be pretty intelligent when it comes to the English language, but this was definitely some strange shit.

“Please switch papers with the person to your right and pass your essay questions up to the front,” Mrs. Malone says, turning on the projector near her desk, displaying the answers and grading scale to the multiple-choice questions. Mrs. Bennett collects the essays to start grading. After several minutes of quiet grading, we get to see our papers. I don't even want to know my grade.

“So, Miss Jackson, do you see why I didn't want you on the AP track?” Mrs. Bennett asks, returning my essay exam to me. “Quite honestly, I think it's very selfish of you to take another, more suitable student's place on the track, knowing all along you aren't worthy.” Mrs. Bennett is smiling from ear to ear, which can only mean I didn't do too well on the practice exam—no surprise, but I really wanted to show her ass up.

“A two,” I say, reading my grade aloud. I need at least a three to pass, and I'm sure I did better than this, but Scantrons don't lie, I guess. The grades for the essay questions are another thing altogether, and, knowing Mrs. Bennett, she didn't cut me any slack. Good thing she's not grading the real thing, or I'd really be screwed.

“Yes, a two. And to think, because of your financial dilemma, you don't even have to pay for the three exams you're scheduled to take, yet I'm sure you'll fail them all. What a pity,” Mrs. Bennett says, walking out of the room as the final warning bell for third period rings, signaling the other students to leave as well. Talk about a hit and run. As I gather my backpack and purse to head to government class, I notice that everyone else seems real cool about their grades. Am I the only one who didn't get it?

“Don't worry, Jayd,” Mrs. Malone says, propping herself up on the corner of my desk before I can make my escape. I feel so humiliated. The last thing I want is counseling from the hippie teacher. “There are still several weeks left to prepare for the exams, and you're not far from passing at all. You should also consider linking up with Alia and Charlotte to attend as many study groups as you can between now and then.”

“Study groups?” I ask, rising from my seat. This is the first I've heard of any study groups. They must have wanted them to remain private, but if it'll help, I'll gladly crash that party.

“Yes, they meet at least once a week after school, off campus. And trust me, it helps. I have complete faith in your abilities no matter what, and believe in the No Child Left Behind Act fully.” I know she's trying to help, but her public-service announcement isn't making me feel any better. But I will ask Alia about her study crew during fifth period.

“Thanks, Mrs. Malone. I appreciate the information,” I say, meeting Jeremy by the door. He stuffed his exam into his backpack without a second thought. Must be nice to be so confident.

“Bye, kids,” Mrs. Malone says to our backs as we walk out. It's a good thing our government class is in the hall around the corner. The warning bell for third period rang almost three minutes ago, and Mrs. Peterson would take great pleasure in marking us both late.

“So how did my girl do?” Jeremy asks, pulling me into his embrace as we walk together. I put my arm around his waist and allow myself to breathe in his soothing scent. Jeremy's just what I need to make it through the long days up here.

“Not good at all. Mrs. Bennett's wicked ass made sure I failed,” I say, even though I know it's not all her fault. “I still don't understand how you could like that bitch.”