nawl!”
“Baby, I love you.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. ’Cause I have standards. Now what you can do is check my Facebook status in three more days, fifteen hours, twenty-five minutes, and a few seconds, and if it reads ‘Booed Up’ then we’re back together again.” Pop swung around and looked at me. “Remember what I told you, Poo.”
“I will,” I said.
“Pop—” Man-Man called her but she ignored him and instead said to me, “See you tomorrow, meet you at my locker.”
“Bye, Pop.”
“Bye.”
“Pop,” Man-Man said, still getting his royal beg on. “Don’t do this, Pop. Let me hollah at you for a minute.”
Pop clicked her heels out of the room and Man-Man followed behind her. “Don’t be like that, Pop,” he said as they walked down the stairs. “Pop!” he called her as the front door slammed.
All I could do was shake my head and just as I was convinced that they were the most insane couple on Earth, Man-Man appeared in my doorway wearing an extra-large grin on his face; and I realized that my thoughts were wrong—they were even crazier. Hella strange.
I looked at Man-Man and for a moment I was convinced he was an alien. “What. Are. You. Grinning. About?” I asked him.
“ ’Cause I can bounce in peace and don’t have to worry about Pop calling my phone half the night and cussing me out.” He revved invisible handlebars.
“Huh?” I blinked in disbelief. “Maybe it’s just me but I could’ve sworn that you just begged her to get back together and then you topped it off by stalking her down the stairs, and practically out the door.”
“I had to do that.”
“Huh?”
“Look, Pop is my baby and breaking up and getting back together is how we do our thang. Which means that I know Pop well enough to know that if I didn’t beg her back she would’ve stayed here extra long and tortured me with all kind of questions. ‘ Why you do this G? Why you do that? ’ I’m allergic to questions like that.”
“And what does that have to do with you begging for forgiveness?”
“Check it, if I beg her forgiveness, she’ll think she has the upper hand, and that I’m over here losing it. Never in a million years would she think she was hitting me off with some peace.”
“So you just played my girl? I don’t appreciate that.”
“Nah,” Man-Man shook his head. “I love my boo, I just had wild oats to attend to and I didn’t want her steppin’ on my neck. Now look, my man, Ny’eem, is having a pickup game and I’m ’bout to get to it. You know a party ain’t a party til G-Bread slide through. Now you wanna roll or tryna stay here and be in the lineup with Malik and the homework police?”
“I can’t be with them alone. Oh, no.”
“Thought so.”
“But wait,” I paused. “Did you say Ny’eem’s game? Like the Ny’eem we know or another one.”
“I only know one Ny’eem and yeah, he’s having a pickup game. Now wassup, ’cause I’m ’bout to be out.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I took a deep breath, and raced over to my full-length mirror. “Do I look okay?”
“Oh, here we go with that again.” Man-Man shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you to watch Jersey Shore if you looking for support? But I mean, you look a’ight. Just change those heels and put on some kicks.”
“For what, it’s his game not mine.”
“’Cause heels in the park at a basketball game makes you look all desperate. Like a watered-down stripper ready to bust out.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“A’ight, chance if you want to, but don’t get mad when dudes start calling you Candy-freak.”
I hesitated and wondered for a moment if he was right. I didn’t know, but something told me not to risk it. The last thing I wanted to look like was a watered-down stripper ready to make it happen.
I stood silent for a moment and then it hit me: it’s eighty-five degrees outside and the perfect time for me to rock a pair of denim shorts, a hot pink
“Baby, I love you.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. ’Cause I have standards. Now what you can do is check my Facebook status in three more days, fifteen hours, twenty-five minutes, and a few seconds, and if it reads ‘Booed Up’ then we’re back together again.” Pop swung around and looked at me. “Remember what I told you, Poo.”
“I will,” I said.
“Pop—” Man-Man called her but she ignored him and instead said to me, “See you tomorrow, meet you at my locker.”
“Bye, Pop.”
“Bye.”
“Pop,” Man-Man said, still getting his royal beg on. “Don’t do this, Pop. Let me hollah at you for a minute.”
Pop clicked her heels out of the room and Man-Man followed behind her. “Don’t be like that, Pop,” he said as they walked down the stairs. “Pop!” he called her as the front door slammed.
All I could do was shake my head and just as I was convinced that they were the most insane couple on Earth, Man-Man appeared in my doorway wearing an extra-large grin on his face; and I realized that my thoughts were wrong—they were even crazier. Hella strange.
I looked at Man-Man and for a moment I was convinced he was an alien. “What. Are. You. Grinning. About?” I asked him.
“ ’Cause I can bounce in peace and don’t have to worry about Pop calling my phone half the night and cussing me out.” He revved invisible handlebars.
“Huh?” I blinked in disbelief. “Maybe it’s just me but I could’ve sworn that you just begged her to get back together and then you topped it off by stalking her down the stairs, and practically out the door.”
“I had to do that.”
“Huh?”
“Look, Pop is my baby and breaking up and getting back together is how we do our thang. Which means that I know Pop well enough to know that if I didn’t beg her back she would’ve stayed here extra long and tortured me with all kind of questions. ‘ Why you do this G? Why you do that? ’ I’m allergic to questions like that.”
“And what does that have to do with you begging for forgiveness?”
“Check it, if I beg her forgiveness, she’ll think she has the upper hand, and that I’m over here losing it. Never in a million years would she think she was hitting me off with some peace.”
“So you just played my girl? I don’t appreciate that.”
“Nah,” Man-Man shook his head. “I love my boo, I just had wild oats to attend to and I didn’t want her steppin’ on my neck. Now look, my man, Ny’eem, is having a pickup game and I’m ’bout to get to it. You know a party ain’t a party til G-Bread slide through. Now you wanna roll or tryna stay here and be in the lineup with Malik and the homework police?”
“I can’t be with them alone. Oh, no.”
“Thought so.”
“But wait,” I paused. “Did you say Ny’eem’s game? Like the Ny’eem we know or another one.”
“I only know one Ny’eem and yeah, he’s having a pickup game. Now wassup, ’cause I’m ’bout to be out.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I took a deep breath, and raced over to my full-length mirror. “Do I look okay?”
“Oh, here we go with that again.” Man-Man shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you to watch Jersey Shore if you looking for support? But I mean, you look a’ight. Just change those heels and put on some kicks.”
“For what, it’s his game not mine.”
“’Cause heels in the park at a basketball game makes you look all desperate. Like a watered-down stripper ready to bust out.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“A’ight, chance if you want to, but don’t get mad when dudes start calling you Candy-freak.”
I hesitated and wondered for a moment if he was right. I didn’t know, but something told me not to risk it. The last thing I wanted to look like was a watered-down stripper ready to make it happen.
I stood silent for a moment and then it hit me: it’s eighty-five degrees outside and the perfect time for me to rock a pair of denim shorts, a hot pink
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