No Boyz Allowed Read online

  Yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... Heard that before. I rolled my eyes toward the roof of the car.

  “And unfortunately at the moment your circumstances aren’t the greatest.”

  “Whew.” I twirled my left index finger in the air and said sarcastically, “You’re really catching on.”

  “Gem, you have to want more. You have to, because I can’t want more for you than you want for yourself—”

  “And what do you want for me?!” I snapped. “For me to be taken off your caseload? Spare me.” I flicked my hand dismissively.

  “Gem, I know how you feel—”

  I chuckled in disbelief. “I’m sooooo sick of that line. Really, I am. ’Cause for-real-for-real, you don’t know nothing about me! All you know is that you want my case closed.”

  “That’s not true, Gem. I want what’s best for you. I really do and you may not see it now but you need a family.”

  “I don’t need a family!” Unwanted tears filled my eyes and no matter how I tried to hold them back, they ran down my cheeks. “I’m good by myself! I got this!”

  “Gem, I just want you to give these people a chance.”

  “I don’t have to give them anything. You pay them room and board for me, that’s enough!”

  “This family seems to really care, Gem. Do you know that they called me every hour, on the hour, to see if I had heard from you or if you’d returned?”

  “And doesn’t that sound a little freaky to you? They don’t even know me. Why would they be sweatin’ me like that?!”

  “They care.”

  “Yeah,” I rolled my eyes toward the roof again. “Everybody cares,” I held my fingers out as if I were counting on them. “Everybody wants to make a difference, everybody knows how I feel, and everybody’s been sixteen. Yada, yada, yada, what-the-heck-ever. Because from where I’m sitting, if everybody’s been in my shoes, then why hasn’t anybody told me why my mother is a crackhead? And who’s my daddy? Huh? Answer me that? How come I’ve been in three high schools and I’m only a sophomore?” I paused. “You know why nobody’s told me that? ’Cause all of these good-willed and good-hearted people are full of it! That’s why!”

  “Gem—”

  “Listen, let’s just get out of this car and get this over with.” I hopped out and slammed the door behind me.

  “All right, Gem,” Ms. Thomas said, getting out of the car. “Let’s go.”

  “Yeah, let’s.”

  I stormed up the brick stairs that led to the front door and rang the bell. A few seconds later, Cousin Crazy appeared.

  “Well, looka here, looka here.” Cousin Shake smacked his lips, and then took a long and loud suck on his toothpick. “We just finished filling out a milk carton application for you.”

  “Whatever.” I grimaced.

  “Baby-Tot-Tot,” Cousin Shake yelled over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, Cousin Shake,” Malik answered from the distance.

  “I got some good news for you!”

  “What’s that?”

  “Kunta’s back.”

  4

  I could barely eat, and not because I wasn’t hungry. But... because this whole deal pissed me off, and as everyone sat around the kitchen table enjoying breakfast and each other’s conversation, I was on edge.

  I eyed everyone at the table. Along with Ms. Grier and her husband were Ms. Minnie, Cousin Shake, and Ms. Grier’s real kids, Man-Man and Toi, who were deep in a conversation. Seated in a high chair next to Toi was a baby—I think it was hers.

  I stared at Malik and hated that he acted as if he belonged here. He looked at me and smiled and I shot him the screw face. He turned away, ate a few pieces of his dripping pancake. Then he moved on to licking the pancake syrup off of his fingers.

  “Why are you eating like that?” I eyed him.

  “’Cause it’s good.” He reached for the tray of bacon and I met his hand with a slap across his fingers.

  I spazzed. “You’ve had enough!” I pushed the tray of bacon away from him.

  “Don’t hit him again,” Ms. Grier said with an edge.

  “Lady, please.” I rolled my eyes.

  Ms. Grier hesitated. “Gem, I think you should calm down. You don’t have to be so defensive.”

  Whatever.

  Ms. Grier handed Malik back the tray of bacon and he hurriedly grabbed a few pieces.

  “Slow down, son,” Mr. Khalil said to Malik.

  “Mr. Khalil, you don’t understand. Whenever Gem starts acting like this, it’s only a matter of time before we get put out. The caseworker shows up and we gotta roll.”

  “Nobody’s rolling,” Ms. Grier said. “Now, let’s talk about something positive, please. Man-Man, what are your plans today?”

  “I’m chillin’.” He stroked the light goatee on his chin and a distant smile ran across his face. “I’ma run up to the mall real quick and see this big butt-tender-lil-cutie—” He paused and looked as if his mind had replayed what he’d just said. He snapped his fingers and pointed. “Yeah. What I meant was that I was going to fill out this job application.”

  Ms. Grier sipped her coffee. “I thought that’s what you meant. And besides, you need to do something other than chase behind those fresh lil nasty skanky girls!”

  “Why they gotta be all that, Ma?” Man-Man stuffed a forkful of pancakes in his mouth.

  “’Cause that’s what you like, birds,” Toi snapped. “Pigeons.”

  Ms. Grier sighed. “Toi, leave your brother alone. And Man-Man, I’m serious. You and all of these girls are getting out of hand.”

  “Ma, I told you I got this. And could y’all kill calling me Man-Man?” He popped an invisible collar. “I told you, it’s G-Bread, baby.”

  “What the hell is G-Bread Baby?” Cousin Shake asked.

  “Cousin Shake,” Man-Man said. “The Bread stands for Money. You know, dough, like dollars.”

  Cousin Shake shook his head. “Grier, when you gon’ get this boy some help?”

  Ms. Grier shook her head. “Listen, Man-Man, I want you to take Gem to the mall with you. She needs to get out and see some new things.”

  “Yo, this isn’t a field trip,” Man-Man said and then looked over to me. “No offense, but Blockers day was yesterday.”

  Ms. Grier shot him the evil eye.

  “It’s cool,” I snapped toward Man-Man and then turned to his Mama. “Did I say I wanted to go to the mall with him? Now back up!”

  I could tell I’d pushed Ms. Grier’s patience to the limit. “Gem, don’t speak to me like that—”

  “Then stop frontin’! And stop telling my brother what to do. You’re not his mother! I got this!”

  “I’m the mother of this house!” Ms. Grier said, and as she spoke I could see Cousin Shake’s shoulders start to bounce.

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “Gem, it’s really no need for you to be so upset,” Mr. Khalil added his two cents in.

  “And it’s really no need for you all to be phony!”

  “No one’s being phony, honey,” Ms. Grier tried to assure me.

  “And stop calling me honey! You know what? This is just too much for me! I don’t need your kids trying to babysit me. I don’t need your family trying to turn my brother against me. And I damn sure don’t need you trying to be my mama!” I rose from the table and stormed out of the kitchen. Once I made it up the stairs, I slammed my bedroom door behind me.

  5

  “Psst , Gem . . . Ge-emmm . . . wake-up. Psst, Gem . . .” Malik’s raspy voice and short, chubby shadow filled my bedroom doorway as he slowly pushed the door open. “Gem-yem-yem-yem . . .”

  I should just lay here and not say a word. Not. One. Word. I was used to Malik waking me up in the middle of the night, but dang his timing sucked. Somehow he always had a way of interrupting my dream at the exact point when Drake was down on one knee and about to ask to marry me.

  “Gem,” Malik called again.

  I sighed. “Yeah, Malik.”

  “You as
leep?”

  He can’t be serious. . . . “No, I’m skydiving.” I peeked at the clock on my nightstand, which flashed 1 A.M. in vibrant red. I pulled my hot pink sheets up to my neck and turned over.

  “You’re not skydiving, Gem. You’re in the bed, asleep.”

  Duh!

  “Gem,” Malik called. “Do you always say crazy things in your sleep? Do you talk in your dreams?”

  Kill me. . . . “Malik, do you have your pillow?” I asked, trying like heck to control the edginess of my tone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure, ’cause you’re not sleeping on mine. You slobber way too much.”

  “I have my pillow.”

  “Then stop asking questions and just come on.”

  “Come on where?”

  “Little boy, you better stop playing with me. I already know you’re scared—”

  “I’m not scared. I’m just not friends with the dark.” His bare feet slapped against the floor as he walked over and hopped in my bed. “Could you share the cover?” He tugged on my sheet and that’s when I remembered to ask him...

  “Did you go to the bathroom before you came in here?”

  He hesitated. “Yeah.”

  I flicked on the lamp next to my bed and a dull yellow light filled the room. “You better not be lying.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I did use the bathroom.”

  “Malik, if you pee on me it’s gon’ be a problem.” I flicked the light off.

  “I haven’t peed in the bed in like a whole week. And why you gotta bring that up?”

  “ ’Cause I’m tired of waking up and smelling like rotten orange juice.” I rolled my eyes at the night.

  “Could you stop talking so loud?” Malik said, agitated.

  “I’m not talking loud.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “Whatever, Malik.” I turned over. “I’m going to sleep.”

  “Wait, I need you to wake me up extra early in the morning.”

  “Why?” I frowned.

  “So everybody can think I slept all night in my bed. I don’t want anybody thinking that Baby-Tot-Tot is a punk.” He popped the collar of his Power Rangers pajamas. “Baby-Tot-Tot got heart.”

  “Baby-Tot-Tot is a mess. That whole deal is sooo whack.com.”

  “No it’s not and why you hatin’?”

  “Hatin’?” I said, surprised.

  “Hater to the fullest.”

  Oh, no he didn’t. “Oh, you getting tough?” I tickled Malik in the center of his stomach. “Don’t you ever call me a hater!”

  Malik laughed until he cried. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “I won’t call you a hater again.”

  “You better not.” I chuckled and fluffed my pillow under my head. “Now, let’s go to sleep.”

  “Okay,” Malik said as I closed my eyes and drifted into my dream world.

  I could see Drake clearly. He walked toward me and . . .

  “Hey, Gem,” Malik tapped me on the shoulder.

  My eyes popped open. “What?!” I screamed in aggravation.

  “Why are you screaming?”

  “Because I’m trying to get my dream on and you keep messing it up!”

  “Oh,” he said unfazed. “Well, I wanted to tell you that when you ran away I was so scared.”

  I hesitated. I was all set to tell Malik to shut da eff up and go to sleep, but now I couldn’t. “Why were you scared?”

  “I thought I would never see you again. I didn’t want anybody to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine, okay?”

  “Are you going to run away again?”

  “No,” I said, unsure.

  “Okay.” I could hear him smiling.

  “Now can we please go back to sleep?” I practically begged.

  “Yeah,” Malik said as he curled up against me.

  “Move over,” I said. But instead of Malik moving away, he moved closer.

  Whatever. I closed my eyes and drifted back into my lovely dream. “Yo, Gem,” I dreamed Drake saying. “You’re the love of my life.”

  “I know,” I answered back.

  “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” Drake dropped to one knee. “Will you—”

  “Gem!”

  Oh... hell... no...

  “Gem,” Malik called my name again and I could’ve strangled him.

  “What!” I screamed.

  “Calm down, you don’t have to yell at me.”

  Shoot me. . . . “What . . . do . . . you . . . want . . .?”

  “I don’t want you to be mad at me, okay?”

  “I’m not mad at you.”

  “I mean, mad at me after I tell you something.”

  “Tell me something like what?”

  “First say you won’t be mad. Promise.”

  “Malik—”

  “Promise,” he pressed.

  “All right, I won’t be mad. I promise.”

  “From now on I want you to behave and be nice.”

  “From now on? Behave? Be nice? To who?” I was caught completely off guard.

  “To Ms. Grier, Mr. Khalil, M.C. Ole-G—”

  “Who is M.C. Ole-G?”

  “Cousin Shake.”

  “You want me to be nice to Cousin Shake? Oh, you can forget that,” I said.

  “You have to be nice to Cousin Shake, Ms. Minnie, Man-Man, Toi, and baby Noah.”

  “And why do I have to be nice to them?”

  “Because I kind of like these people,” he said.

  “You don’t even know these people. And I told you about getting attached.”

  “I do know them . . .” Malik insisted.

  “We just met them the other day.”

  “Well, I know them a little bit . . .”

  “Just like you knew the people we lived with before we moved here, and the family before that. And before that. And each one of them still made us leave.” I hated to burst his bubble, but he needed to understand our circumstances.

  “That’s because you were mean to them.”

  What did he say? “I was mean? So it was my fault?” I couldn’t believe he blamed me. “Are you even serious with this?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious. The last two times we moved was your fault. You were being really mean. And I’m tired of moving. I’m always losing my friends, I’m never able to keep my video games because every foster parent makes me leave them, and I don’t like it. So I was thinking that you better be nice, because it’s time for you to listen to me!”

  I couldn’t believe this. “First of all, you don’t tell me what to do. It’s the other way around and these people aren’t exactly that nice to me.”

  “Yes they are, Gem. You’re being mean and I’m tired of it. So I’m warning you, get yo mind right.”

  “Get. My. Mind. Right?” Where did he get that from?

  “Fa’sho.”

  “You’ve been around M.C. Ole-G too long.”

  “I mean it, Gem. You better be nice.”

  “And if I’m not?!”

  Malik paused, like maybe he didn’t expect me to call his bluff. “Well,” he paused again. “If you’re not nice and they say we have to leave, I’m not going.”

  What? I sat up in bed and flicked my lamp on. “What? What do you mean you’re not going?”

  “I’m not going. I don’t like not having a home. I want to stay in the same school all year for once. And I don’t want to move anymore. So if you’re not nice then you’ll have to go by yourself.” Tears filled his eyes. “And I mean it.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Malik, go to sleep,” was all that would leave my mouth.

  “I’m serious, Gem. I mean it.”

  And I could tell that he meant it. And yeah, I wanted to remind him that we rolled together, not separately. And I wanted to tell him that it really didn’t matter either way if I was nice or not because when all was said and done we would still be asked to leave. But for some reason the words fell dead in my mouth before I co
uld spit them out. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Whatever you say, Malik.”

  “So does that mean you’re going to be nice?” he asked, excited. “Please say yes.”

  I hesitated. I hated to make promises. “Yeah. I’ll try to be nice.”

  “Try real hard!” Malik squeezed me as tight as he could. “You da truth, Gem-yem-yem. Da truth.”

  “Cool, I’m the truth,” I said sarcastically. “Now can you puhlease shut up so I can get my dream on?”

  6

  I sat Indian style in the center of my bed, surfing through cable channels, when this rude lunatic interrupted me. I looked up and stared at her like she was crazy.

  Ms. Grier slammed a hand on her hip. “All week long you’ve been sitting in this room, only coming out when it’s dinnertime, like this is jail and you’re reporting to mess hall. Constantly keeping to yourself and not talking to anyone. Well, this is a home, okay!”

  What the hell...“Okay,” I said nonchalantly, secretly hoping that me agreeing would shut her up and send her on her way. But it didn’t. Instead, she yelled, “Khalil, where are you?”

  “I’m here, Grier,” he said like he was just as sick of her as I was. He stepped through my doorway and took a deep breath. Then he placed four extra-large shopping bags from Forever 21, True Religion, Deliah’s, and Hollister on my bed. Afterward, he walked out of my room and quickly returned with three sneaker boxes, a pair of Uggs, and two pairs of four-inch stilettos.

  Inside, I felt like I was in heaven, but on the outside I maintained the game face that said I was less than impressed. I knew I should’ve said thank you, but I didn’t.

  “I helped to pick it, Gem!” Malik said, excited as I noticed his new outfit: a black pair of jeans, a football jersey, and black pair of Vans. Obviously, he’d been hanging with them at the mall. “This is yours, too, Gem!” He placed a brand new, hot pink, Spalding basketball next to me and whispered, loudly, “She made me do it.”

  Ms. Grier shot him a look out the corner of her eye.

  Malik carried on, “I had to tell her what you liked or it was gon’ be a problem.”

  “I’m sure, Malik,” I said.

  He continued his loud whisper. “All I told her is that you were a pink Nike girl, who used to shoot hoops.”