Indigo Summer Page 4

  “Well, if you decide to go, who you taking?” Alicia asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I don’t have a date,” she smiled.

  My eyes found the door of the gym as they swung open and the girls trying out for the dance team rushed out. I searched for Indigo in the crowd, and spotted her walking and talking with another girl. She wore pink shorts and a white top that hugged her small breasts. Her wild hair fell softly onto her shoulders, and her skin was flawless.

  “Indigo,” I called her, walking away from Alicia and Shauna, leaving their questions and comments to dissolve into the air.

  Indigo’s eyes found mine.

  “What’s up?” She asked.

  “I been waiting on you. Wanted to tell you how good you were in there.”

  “Thanks. Hope I make the team,” she said dryly, as if she doubted her own skills.

  “You will,” I said.

  “What you doing hanging around in the girls’ gym anyway?” she asked.

  “Watching the tryouts.”

  “You stayed after school just to watch us dance? Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked, frowning. “Why aren’t you on the football team or something?”

  “Because I don’t play football…anymore,” I said. “But I watched the team practice for a while. Then I decided to come over here and see what was up with the dance team tryouts.”

  “Well, good for you,” she said and walked away from me, through the glass doors and to the outside courtyard.

  I followed.

  “You got a ride home?”

  “My father’s picking me up,” she said, searching the lineup of cars that sat at the curb; parents waiting for their children to come out.

  “…’cause I was gonna say, I could give you a ride, since you live right next door.”

  “That’s alright. He’s already here,” she said, and took off toward her father’s truck.

  Didn’t say goodbye. Just left me standing there, unaware that I thought she was the finest girl in the entire school.

  Chapter 6

  Indigo

  Pushing my way through the crowd, I made it up to where the list was plastered on the wall. My heart pounding, my mind drifting back to Miss Martin’s words, “…tomorrow morning, a list of those who made the cut will be posted outside the cafeteria.” Who would’ve thought that a list, a piece of paper taped to the wall, which held the names of fifteen girls who made the first round of dance team tryouts, would cause so much chaos? The fifteen girls whose names appeared on that list had been handpicked by Miss Martin, who had been the dance team coach for at least ten years. She had delivered an impeccable dance team year after year, one that was considered to be the best in the metro Atlanta area. Making that list meant that she thought you were good enough to come back for a second look; good enough to potentially carry on the school’s legacy. Meant that she thought you were better than the fifteen other girls whose names did not appear on the list.

  As I reached the list, my French-manicured nail scanned the names until I got about three quarters of the way down the page. There it was in bold black letters against white paper, INDIGO SUMMER. The sight of it made me want to dance through the hallway; made me want to jump and shout. Made me want to pull out my cell phone and call Jade right at the moment and tell her the good news, but I knew better than to use my parents’ daytime minutes for anything other than emergencies. I did that before and ended up getting my phone repossessed for a month. It’s hard being cut off from the rest of the world like that. My cell phone was my lifeline. To cut that off would be like cutting off my air circulation.

  I had made the first cut! I closed my eyes for a brief moment and thanked God. He’d obviously heard my prayer the night before and that morning on the bus. He was probably tired of me bugging him. But bugging him paid off, because he came through for me. Again.

  The second name from the top of the list was Tameka Brown’s. She’d made the first cut, too. The problem was, her dance partner Michelle Smith’s name was not on the list.

  Michelle’s eyes were bloodshot as she leaned up against the wall.

  “I don’t see how she picked you and not me,” Michelle was saying to Tameka. “We were a team. Did the same moves and everything. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I don’t know either,” Tameka told her, looking for words that would console her friend, but she was at a loss for them.

  “It’s not even fair. I can’t stand Miss Martin!” Michelle said and then stormed on down the hall.

  Tameka shrugged as she spotted me.

  “Congratulations,” I said.

  “Same to you,” she said. “I knew you would make it.”

  I’m glad she was so sure, because I hadn’t been. I’d tossed and turned the entire night before thinking about it. By the time I had finally drifted off, it was almost time to get up, get showered and dressed for school.

  I was more than surprised to see my name on that list. My heart pounded as I thought about the second round. Round two might not be so generous.

  “Heard you made the first cut for the dance team.” Quincy found me at my locker, pulling my world geography book out for my next class. Dressed in blue jeans and a Michael Vick jersey, he smelled so good. News sure did travel fast.

  “Yeah, the second round is after school today,” I said, slamming my locker shut and pulling my book to my chest. My heart started to flutter and the palms of my hands got all moist at the sight of him.

  “I didn’t even know you could dance,” he said with those kissable-looking lips. Jade should see these lips. She would compare them to Usher’s. I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss them, especially since I hadn’t kissed a boy since I kissed Andre in the seventh grade. And his lips weren’t nearly this kissable looking. “If I didn’t have football practice I would come and check you out.”

  I thanked God that football practice and dance team tryouts took place at the same time. His being there would make me nervous and I would probably mess up my entire routine. I was grateful.

  “Yeah, it’s too bad you got practice.”

  Before I knew it, his lips were against mine, and for at least ten seconds I stopped breathing. I closed my eyes, wanting to savor the moment that Quincy Rawlins kissed Indigo Summer for the first time. I could’ve sworn I saw sparks flying after I opened my eyes. His eyes were opened the whole time, watching me.

  “Well, I gotta get to class. I’ll check you later,” he said, walking backwards and then disappearing into a crowd of students.

  I wondered if he had felt the same butterflies in his stomach.

  The gymnasium was packed with people wanting to see who would make the second round of the dance team cuts. Five girls would be going home tonight, a swarm of emotions interrupting their sleep because they hadn’t made the team. Their egos would be crushed, their feelings hurt. They would have to face the rest of the student body knowing that they weren’t as good as the ten girls who would remain. The ten girls who made the cut would be Carver’s newest, freshest dance team.

  My palms began to sweat as I sat on the bleachers next to Tameka, awaiting my destiny. My eyes glanced across the gym and found a pair of light brown ones staring my way. Marcus Carter rested his chin in the palm of his hand. He smiled when he caught me looking. Why was he there? To humiliate me? I rolled my eyes.

  As the edited version of 50 Cent’s “Disco Inferno” rang through the gym, I started making moves that I had practiced all summer with Jade. My yellow and gray FILAs hitting the hardwoods at a consistent pace, my hips moving to a similar rhythm. When I danced, I went to another place; another world—all the faces in the gym became nonexistent as I did my thing. For two whole minutes, I allowed the music to consume my entire body. And then, something happened—the most horrible thing that would threaten to ruin my life. I tripped over my shoestring that had come untied with all the movement.

  Embarrassment rushed across my face, a
nd I wanted to cry. And as my legs began to stiffen, the music continued to play. I continued to dance, as Miss Martin made notes on her clipboard. Surely she was handing me demerits for my clumsiness. I would be one of the five sleepless girls who’d be cut from the team; my worst nightmare. My mind went to Jade, as 50 Cent’s voice rang through the speakers in the gym. I’d blown it for both of us.

  I sat through the rest of the routines, but couldn’t wait until it was over. As soon as the last girl finished performing, and Miss Martin gave her spiel, I threw my backpack across my shoulder and rushed though the glass doors. I couldn’t breathe and needed some air. Couldn’t believe I had screwed up my chance of making the team. Any mistake would be an automatic elimination, considering the talent of all the girls in there. I searched the line of cars for my father’s truck. He was nowhere in sight, and I wondered where he could be at a time like this, when I had a rush of tears that needed to be released. I pulled my cell phone out to call home.

  “Where’s Daddy?” I asked my mother.

  “Indi, he’s stuck in traffic. He left you a message on your cell phone. Didn’t you get it?”

  “No, ma’am,” I said. “I haven’t even checked my messages.”

  “He doesn’t know when he’ll get there,” she said. “I would come and get you myself, but you know my car’s in the shop.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?” I asked, my voice on the verge of cracking.

  “You’ll have to wait for your father,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine,” she said. “How did tryouts go?”

  “Okay,” I said reluctantly.

  “Did you dance to Twenty-five Cent’s song?”

  “It’s 50 Cent, Mama.”

  “Twenty-five Cents, Fifty Cents. Whatever, Indi.”

  “Yes, I danced to his song,” I said softly. “Ma, I need to go so I can wait for Daddy. I’ll tell you about tryouts when I get home.”

  “Okay, Indi. He should be there shortly.”

  I couldn’t wait to hang up as I stood in the courtyard. The leaves on the trees were blowing about, restlessly. Students stood around chatting and waiting for their parents, while the cross-country team passed by, jogging at a slow pace. In the distance, I heard a whistle from the football coach in the field behind the school.

  “You need a ride?” I heard a deep voice in my ear.

  “My daddy’s coming,” I said and kept my back to Marcus.

  “You were still good.” He laughed. “Even after you tripped over your shoestring.”

  “You think it’s funny?” I turned to face him, his light brown eyes glistening in the sunshine. His dimples were nice, too, as he smiled.

  “I don’t mean to laugh,” he said, “but if you could’ve seen your face…”

  “I hate you,” I said and stormed off.

  He caught up with me again.

  “I’m sorry, girl. I was just playing.”

  I ignored him, and did my best to keep the tears from falling. But they did anyway, and before I knew it they were burning the side of my face. I wiped them away with the back of my hand. Marcus wrapped his arms around me. I wanted to punch him in his face and tell him to get away from me, but I actually found comfort there, my face buried in his chest. His cologne pleasing to my nose.

  “Look, I was just playing, Indigo,” he said. “You’re a better dancer than all those girls put together.”

  I looked up into his light brown eyes to see if he was serious. He wasn’t smiling.

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. I pulled away from his embrace.

  “You think that just because you tripped over your shoestring, it means you can’t dance?”

  “No, it means I won’t make the team,” I told him. “I know that the competition was tough, and all Miss Martin needed was five girls to eliminate.”

  “True that,” he said, “but if she got any sense, she knows that stuff happens. And she’ll judge you based on the talent that she saw in you the first time.”

  I looked into his eyes again. He was serious.

  “Although it was crazy funny when you tripped.” He laughed again. “I wanted to bust out laughing right there in the gym.”

  “I can’t stand you!” I said, and rolled my eyes.

  “Everybody in the gym wanted to laugh,” he said. “Not just me.”

  When I saw my father’s truck pull up, I was grateful.

  “You are so stupid.” I left him standing there. “I don’t even know why I told you anything!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I kept moving.

  Even if I didn’t make the team, his words would still ring in my head forever, you’re a better dancer than all those girls put together.

  He was so right!

  Chapter 7

  Marcus

  When I pulled up in front of the house, my pop’s Dodge pickup was in the driveway, the backside of it propped up with a jack, the tire lying in the grass. My pop’s legs were stretched out from underneath the truck. He was under there doing something with tools.

  “Hey, Pop,” I said, and he slid out from underneath the truck, oil covering his face and hands.

  “Hi, son.” He pulled himself up, stood, grabbed an old rag and wiped his hands with it. “You forgot to take the trash out this morning.”

  I had been in a hurry that morning and forgot all about the fact that it was trash day.

  “I forgot, Pop. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have many chores, Marcus, but that’s one of them. And I expect you to do it,” he said. “Gloria had a hissy fit. You know how she can get.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I was just rushing to get to school.”

  “Try not to forget again. She had to pull that trash can out to the curb herself.” He almost had a smirk on his face when he said it. I wanted to crack up laughing at the thought of Princess Gloria pulling that stinking can out of the garage and setting it on the curb all by herself. That would’ve been a nice sight. I hate I missed it.

  “I won’t forget again.”

  “How was school, son?” he asked.

  “It was cool,” I said. “I’m thinking about playing football again.”

  “That’s good. I know how much you like football. And you’re good at it.”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t decided how it fits into my Master Plan yet, though.”

  “This Master Plan of yours, I really wish you would let go of it. You need to be thinking about taking over the family business after high school.”

  “Pop, I’m not trying to…”

  “Marcus, your grandfather built this business, and then passed it on to me. And I’m trying to teach you the ropes, so I can pass it on to you someday.”

  “Pop, I want to go to college, and I’m working toward a full scholarship. I’m not interested in buying, selling or managing real estate, or sitting around being somebody’s landlord,” I told him. “And you should think about hiring somebody to manage those properties for you, so you don’t have to run around town collecting rent…doing repairs…”

  “Son, I run around town collecting rent and doing repairs because I want to stay connected with my tenants. I’ve known these people for years, and it’s not just about collecting rent. It’s about building relationships. Some of them are even friends.”

  “I know, Pop. That’s real cool. I can appreciate that, but it’s just not for me.”

  “Well, it is today, because I need for you to take me over to East Point to help this young lady unclog her toilet. As you can see, my truck is not running, so I need for you to drive me.”

  “Can’t you just take the keys to my Jeep and go?”

  “No, I can’t. But I am going to take a shower, and when I get done I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Yes, sir,” I mumbled, threw my backpack across my shoulder and hustled up to my room.

  I pushed t
he play button on my CD player, as Jamie Foxx’s voice rang through my speakers, and Kanye West began rapping on his “Gold Digger” track. I pumped it up loud enough for it to bounce off the walls in my room, but not too loud. Didn’t want Gloria complaining, which was what she did best. I dropped my backpack in the middle of the floor and fell facedown onto my bed. I listened to the music, and took it all in. My cell phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans, but I ignored it. Whoever it was would have to leave a message. I needed few minutes to myself. It stopped vibrating and then started again, so I pulled it out of my pocket. Checked the number. Didn’t recognize it, and didn’t answer. After the same number flashed on the screen a third time, I figured it must be important. I answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Marcus,” the voice said. “You know who this is?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You must give a lot of girls your number, then.”

  “Not that many,” I said, and then sat up in bed. “Who is this?”

  “This is Charmaine.”

  “Charmaine who?”

  “From Mrs. Murray’s class, Marcus. Stop playing.”

  “Oh, yeah, you sit by the window.” I remembered the girl who wasn’t very cute, but she was a cheerleader. And she’d practically begged for my number, so what could I say? “What’s up?”

  “You got a date for the homecoming dance?”

  The homecoming dance. Just then, I thought about Indigo. I kept meaning to ask her, but every time I got around her, I forgot what it was I wanted to say. She had that sort of effect on me. I happened to glance out my bedroom window and peeped into hers, which was right across the yard. There she was, pacing the floor in her bedroom, yapping away on her cell phone. I wondered who she was talking to.

  “Well?” Charmaine was asking.

  “Well, what?”

  “Do you have a date or what?”

  “Yep, I’m already taking somebody.”

  “Who?” She asked.

  “Indigo Summer.”