Indigo Summer Page 8

  “I don’t know. But it’s definitely not Charmaine Jackson. Rumor has it that she has given it up to everybody on the football team.”

  “Really? I hadn’t heard that one.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I needed a date, and I had run out of options. The person I wanted to invite was already taken.”

  “And who was that?” I asked.

  “Just some girl I know.”

  “Do I know her?”

  “I don’t know. You might,” he said. “Can I get a dance or what? Or do you plan to just hold up the wall for the rest of the night?”

  Without another word, he pulled me out onto the dance floor, and I didn’t resist. Marcus drew me close, and I actually felt comfortable in his arms—sort of protected. I rested my head on his chest as we swayed to the sound of Jamie Foxx’s “Play a Love Song.”

  “How did a girl like you end up with a guy like Quincy?” He asked.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A simple one,” he said. “You’re much too beautiful for him. He’s a dog.”

  “You don’t even know him like that.”

  “See that’s where you’re wrong. I have known Quincy a long time, Indi. Since we were in grade school together, we both have played football in leagues all over the city together. He ain’t about jack.”

  “You’re jealous of him.”

  “Jealous?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I smiled. “Just because your date didn’t work out, now you trying to spoil mine.”

  “Right. I’m jealous of Quincy Rawlins.” He laughed. “I’ll just let you find out for yourself.”

  “Cool. You do that.”

  “But I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk,” he said. “Because I think you’re special, Indigo Summer. I think you’re very special.”

  “I admit. We got off to a bad start, Marcus. Maybe we should try and be friends. I think that’s what this is all about.”

  “That’s not what this is about, but I would be happy to be your friend, Indigo,” he said. “Does that mean we can hang out a little bit?”

  “Hang out like where?”

  “Like at the mall, or a football game…go to a movie?”

  “Maybe the mall or a football game or something.” I smiled. “But I don’t know about a movie. I do have a boyfriend, you know.”

  “That’s right. How could I forget that?” he asked.

  There was suddenly silence between us for a moment, a very uncomfortable silence. I needed to say something that would lighten the mood. “Where did Mr. Davis get that suit?”

  Marcus laughed. “Probably Goodwill.”

  We began to people-watch and laugh about some of the stuff they were wearing. We laughed at the light blue suit Mr. Davis wore; it looked as if he’d owned it back in the sixties. We cracked on Miss Goodman’s two-toned shoes that didn’t match anything she had on. I actually enjoyed the few moments I spent with Marcus. He had a sense of humor and he was fun to talk to. I was sorry that I hadn’t given him the time of day before. As Quincy’s eyes met mine, I gave him a little wave.

  “He’s looking over here.” I smiled as the look of envy flashed across Quincy’s face when he spotted me dancing with Marcus. “Hug me closer.”

  Marcus did as I asked until the song finally ended.

  “You ready to go, Indi?” Quincy asked, giving Marcus an evil eye as he approached.

  “Whenever you are.”

  “If we’re going to grab something to eat, we better get going. You know what your father said,” he said. “I wanna make sure I get you home on time.”

  He grabbed my elbow and we headed toward the door.

  “I’ll catch you later, Indi,” Marcus said.

  “Okay,” I said, and followed Quincy to his mama’s Maxima.

  As we approached the edge of the parking lot at school, Quincy turned out onto the street and then accelerated. We drove a few miles and to a nearby park. Quincy drove into the park, the gravel making a crushing noise under our tires. Although the sign read: NO ADMITTANCE AFTER HOURS, Quincy continued down the stretch of the path until we reached a parking area. He maneuvered the car into one of the spots.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Got something I wanna show you.”

  “Thought we were getting something to eat?”

  “I’m not that hungry. Are you?” He asked, and before I could answer, said, “Matter of fact, I’m not hungry at all.”

  He put a CD in, and adjusted the volume on the stereo.

  The park was dark and almost eerie. The only light shining was that from the moon and the dashboard in Quincy’s mama’s car. I could barely see the whites of his eyes as he reclined in his seat and began caressing my face with his fingertips. When he leaned over and kissed me, I relaxed and gave in to his kiss. I loved the softness of his lips and his kisses usually tasted minty and fresh.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” I whispered back. Couldn’t understand why we were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone else was around.

  As his tongue swirled to the roof of my mouth, his hand began to probe, making its way to my knee and then on up to my thigh. My heart started pounding so loudly, I wondered if he could hear it. I liked kissing, but wasn’t sure I was ready for much more than that. I thought about Mel and how she said not to let anybody in my pocketbook before I was ready. I took that to heart.

  “Just relax, baby,” Quincy said. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not ready,” I said.

  “Yes, you are. You just need to relax, Indi.”

  Who was he to tell me what I was ready for? Only I could decide that…and had.

  “I’m not ready,” I said again, pulling his hand away and straightening my dress.

  We hadn’t even been dating that long. We hadn’t even talked about sex. Hadn’t talked about the fact that I was still virgin and wanted my first time to be special. With someone that I cared about. We hadn’t talked about the consequences of sex, like HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases, or about pregnancy. I didn’t even know if he planned on using protection or if he had any.

  Quincy rested his head on the back of the leather driver’s seat and stared straight ahead. He was frustrated. “When will you be ready?” he asked.

  “I can’t say for sure,” I told him, and my heart wouldn’t stop beating at the rapid pace it was pulsating. My hands shook as I snapped my seat belt on. “Can you just take me home?”

  “Yep, I’ll take you home,” he said and snapped his seat belt on, too. Restarted the engine.

  He was mad. I could tell.

  But I didn’t care. I knew what made me comfortable and what didn’t, and this definitely did not.

  When he pulled up in front of my house, I placed my hand on the door handle.

  “Will you call me later?” I asked softly.

  “Yeah, I’ll call you later,” he said, never looking my way. His eyes remained straight ahead. I expected him to at least lean over and kiss me good-night, but he didn’t.

  I waited a few minutes, and then hopped out of the car. Made my way up my front steps and when I got to the door, I looked back at Quincy. He was watching me to make sure I got in, but pulled off the minute I stepped inside. My father was crashed out on the sofa in the family room. I tiptoed past him and made it to the stairwell. Just as my foot touched the bottom step, his voice rang out in the darkness.

  “Did you have a good time?” he asked.

  I crept back into the family room and stood in front of him.

  “Hi, Daddy. I thought you were asleep.”

  “All closed eyes aren’t sleep, baby,” he said, and peeped at his watch. “You’re home earlier than curfew. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Daddy.”

  “You don’t look fine. What’s on your mind?” He sat straight up and adjusted his position on the sofa. “Anything you wanna talk about?
”

  “No, Daddy. Everything’s fine, I’m just tired,” I said and rubbed my eyes. “Just want to go to bed.”

  This was definitely not a subject for my father. He wasn’t ready for a heavy conversation such as this. Quincy would have a hit out on him before morning if my father knew the details of my evening. Daddy wasn’t taking this whole dating thing very well as it was. After all, I was his baby girl.

  My father sighed, cocked his head to the side and peered at me with those inquisitive eyes of his. In his heart of hearts he knew that something wasn’t quite right, but he wasn’t sure what. Fathers just knew.

  “Well, I guess you should go on to bed then, baby. Got to get up for church in the morning,” he said. “I’m turning in, too.”

  Daddy hit the power on the television set, followed me up the stairs, dressed in his light blue cotton pajamas and brown leather slippers that Nana Summer had given him for Christmas two years ago.

  At the top of the stairs, I kissed his cheek and said, “Good night, Daddy.”

  “Good night, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I rushed to my room and changed into my pajamas. Sat on the edge of the bed, thinking through the choices I’d made all night. Wondering if I’d made the right ones. Part of me wanted to cry as I caught a reflection of my face in the mirror. My makeup had begun to smear. I went into my bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and wet it. Cleaned the makeup from my face, and brushed my teeth.

  Just as I was about to call it a night, I heard a light tap on my bedroom window; sounded like a small rock hitting it. And then another tap. When I opened my blinds, Marcus stood with his window wide opened and was about to throw another Skittle at my window.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, as I pulled my window opened. I was actually grateful to see him. His face was like a breath of fresh air.

  “I saw you coming home just now. That punk didn’t even walk you to the door,” he said, as his wifebeater hugged the muscles in his chest. “What took y’all so long? Where’d y’all go after the dance?”

  “Nowhere special,” I said. “Where did you and Charmaine go after the dance?”

  “I took her to McDonald’s and then dropped her behind off at home.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t take her to Mickey D’s.”

  “Naw. I took her to Applebee’s, and then took her home. Her mama was having a party and asked me if I wanted to come in and play some dominoes. I told her I would pass.” We both cracked up.

  “What did she order at Applebee’s?”

  “A Bourbon Street steak with a loaded baked potato. And the heifer had the nerve to order an appetizer, too. I told her that what she needed to order was a salad with light dressing on the side.”

  “And she cussed you out, right?”

  “No doubt.” He laughed. “Ate her steak, appetizer and part of my meal, too.”

  “That’s what you get,” I said.

  “That’s what I get for what?”

  “For taking a girl like Charmaine to the Homecoming Dance.”

  “Well, the girl that I wanted to take already had a date.”

  “And who was that?” I asked, hands on my hips.

  “Nobody special. Just some freshman.”

  “Oh,” I said, changing the subject. “You forgot to tell me what you ordered at Applebee’s.”

  “Chicken fingers. Why?” he asked.

  “Just asking.”

  “You forgot to tell me where you and Quincy went for dinner,” he said.

  “Umm…” I thought for a moment. Was Marcus a friend or foe? “I wasn’t really that hungry, so we just went somewhere to talk.”

  “Oh,” he said, his eyes staring into mine. Marcus was easy to talk to. “Did he try something?”

  “No, we just talked,” I lied.

  “Well, you need to get some sleep. I’ll holler at you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Marcus.”

  “Sleep tight,” he said, and then shut his window.

  Chapter 15

  Marcus

  I stood on the porch, ringing the bell as the hot Atlanta sun beamed down on my neck. On the other side of the door, I could hear the patter of feet rushing toward me. The door swung opened

  “Hey, Marcus. It’s about time you got here,”

  Justin said.

  “What’s up, little man?” I asked, and gave him a high five.

  “My mama’s not here,” he said.

  “You here by yourself?” I asked.

  “Nope. Sasha’s here,” he said and frowned. “She won’t let me go outside and ride my bike.”

  “Who’s at the door, Justin?” Sasha asked and then appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a low-cut pair of jeans, a red cropped shirt and matching red-and-white FILAs. Her microbraids were pulled back into a ponytail. “Oh. Hey, what’s up, Marcus?”

  “What’s up?” I asked her and smiled. “I’m here to tutor Justin. Can I come in?”

  “I guess so.” She opened the door wider, and a strong smell of burnt popcorn brushed across my nose. “His mama know you’re supposed to be here?”

  “I come every week at the same time. She’s usually home by now.”

  “She started a new part-time job and asked me if I could stay with Justin a little longer today.” She smiled. “I guess you can come in.”

  “Thank you,” I said and moved past her and into the living room. I took a seat on the sofa. Sasha’s books were scattered all over the coffee table. “Did somebody burn some popcorn?”

  “I left it in the microwave too long,” she said and looked embarrassed.

  “Oh,” I said, and held my laughter inside. “Go get your books and stuff, little man. So we can get started.”

  Justin took off down the hall and to his room.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Sasha asked.

  “Yeah. Some Kool-Aid would be nice.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Justin rushed back into the living room and hopped onto the sofa next to me, opening up his math book and laying out his homework assignment. He grinned as he held up his math test. At the top of the page was a big red A plus and a smiling face.

  “Check this out, Marcus!”

  “Is that an A plus?”

  “Yep!”

  “Man, that’s cool. Gimme some dap.” He knew exactly what dap was and balled his hand into a fist. “You alright with me.”

  “What did he do?” Sasha asked, returning with an ice-cold glass of red Kool-Aid and handing it to me.

  “He got an A plus on his exam,” I said. “Show her.”

  He showed Sasha and she leaned over and kissed his cheek, then almost squeezed the life out of him. Justin blushed and then wiped all traces of her kiss away.

  “You didn’t tell me you got an A, Justin,” she said. “Just for that, I might let you go outside and ride your bike later. That is if your mother’s not here by the time you finish your homework.”

  “Alright!” he said. “We gotta hurry up, Marcus, ’cause I got some wheelies to pop.”

  “What you know about popping a wheelie?” I asked.

  “I know a lot about it,” he said. “Now come on, quit your yappin’ and teach me some math.”

  “He’s tripping,” I said to Sasha and she started laughing.

  I started explaining a few problems to Justin and then told him to work one out on his own. Told him to let me know once he’d completed it. Sasha had taken a seat in the chair across the room and started reading a book. She wasn’t fully engaged in it, because I caught her checking me out a few times. She thought I wasn’t watching, but I was; because I was checking her out, too.

  “What you reading?” I asked her.

  “Native Son,” she said, and held up the cover of the book for me to see it.

  “Richard Wright?” I asked. “Good book.”

  “You read it?” she asked.

  “Twice,” I said. “What do you think o
f the main character, Bigger Thomas? Was he a product of his environment or a cold-blooded killer?”

  “Both,” she said. “What made you read it twice?”

  “Just trying to figure out what was going through the brother’s head. Trying to understand him better.”

  “And it took you two reads to do that?”

  “Yep.”

  “So you understand him better now?” she asked sarcastically.

  “A little better now.”

  “So do you believe that we all are products of our environment? That if we are raised in bad neighborhoods, then we will grow to be bad people?” she asked, sounding all intellectual.

  “To some degree, but not totally. I believe we have the freedom of choice. I can let my environment dictate to me who I can become, or I can become whatever I want in spite of where I live. In spite of the choices my parents made, in spite of everything.” I was sharing my inner thoughts with this girl that I didn’t even know. Stuff that I thought about all the time; stuff that had my mind racing in the middle of a geometry class when I should be paying attention.

  “Marcus, you’re a deep thinker,” she said, and it was so nice to be able to talk to a girl who actually understood my thoughts. “What else do you think about?”

  I didn’t know if it was a trick question or what, but it was then that I decided to tell her about my Master Plan.

  “I think about my Master Plan, and what I need to do to carry it out.”

  “Your Master Plan?”

  “Yep,” I said confidently. “It’s the plan for my future.”

  “Okay,” she said, and gave me a skeptical look. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I had a teacher once tell me that because I’m black, I will never do anything spectacular, like go to an Ivy League college, or receive a scholarship in anything other than sports.”

  “He really said that?” her eyes grew big.

  “In so many words.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “What can you say to someone that ignorant? You just have to prove them wrong.”

  “How will you do that?” Sasha asked, and I had her complete interest.

  “That’s what my Master Plan is all about. I absolutely have to maintain a 4.0 grade point average. I have to involve myself in my community and tutor kids like Justin here.” I smiled at Justin, who was still struggling with the math problem I had assigned him. I playfully popped him upside his head. He looked up at me and frowned. “Sowing into him is like sowing into my own future.”