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Part 1: The Beginning
Chapter 1
Sisters From Another Mother
Tuskegee, Alabama: a southern region of the United States, where the scorching heat of 103 degrees is a common occurrence. This is the land that has been labeled by anyone who has lived or traveled through the area as “da blazing durty south.” The summer of 1999 was no different. As the Channel 4 noonday weatherman gave his updates, he had just one thing to say about the characteristically hot conditions. “It is hot like fire on this side of the equator!”
The warm and muggy weather adequately reflected the mood of the students in Coach Ballard’s biology class, because when the three o’clock bell rang releasing the Booker T. Washington High School students from their seven-hour prison the homework instructions that he shouted out fell on deaf ears. The students had quickly dispersed from their fourth period classes, eager to head home.
“Hey, sit back in your seats until I dismiss you!” Coach yelled out behind the students, but no one took heed to his instructions except for one shining star, Shayla Thomas.
Being the astute pupil that she was, she took the time and care to write all of the homework notes into her organizer before meticulously collecting her belongings and placing them into her book bag. The first one to arrive and the last one to leave, Shayla’s grades reflected her attentive attitude. She slowly arose from her seat and walked toward the door.
Coach Ballard placed an arm on her shoulder and said, “Hey, Shayla. I appreciate your hard work in my classroom this year, young lady. Don’t think I don’t notice that each and every assignment and test answer is well thought out, calculated, and perfected. Also, thank you for staying seated long enough to get the homework instructions today.”
“Thanks Coach. I like science a lot, so getting the answers correct is just what comes natural to me,” Shayla smiled inwardly, happy that her favorite teacher had noticed her dedication.
“Young lady, you are going places,” he said, before closing his planner and zipping up his brief case.
Nodding and smiling, Shayla exited the classroom. The sincerity in her teacher’s voice was encouraging, echoing sentiments that, even at her young age, she knew to be true. She strived for just that – to go places and do big things in her life. She knew that as long as she kept her G.P.A high enough, she was taking one step in the right direction. Making her way to her locker, she took a mental note to get all of the books that she would need for a long night of studying. The next day was going to be filled with semester exams and quizzes. She collected her text books one at a time.
Microbiology, check.
Literature, check.
Pre-Calculus, check.
Surveying the stack of books in her hand, she thought about the fact that she only had half a year’s worth of gruesome high school work to do, and then she would be off to enroll in Auburn University’s psychology program as an undergrad. Happy would be too simple a word to express how she felt about being accepted into the psychology department’s “Student Choice” program. She was beginning to feel more and more like the young woman that she was blossoming into with every thought of leaving the drudgery of teenage life behind and finally entering into college. Having collected all of the materials that she would need to complete her night’s studies, she quickened her pace. Walking briskly toward the bus stop, her mind on catching the yellow limousine ride home.
“Hey, sistah girl!” It was her best friend Gladys, one-third of the trio of group dubbed “Sisters from Another Mother.”
“Hey, girl,” Shayla slowed down to let Gladys catch up with her.
Gesturing toward Shayla’s heavy load, Gladys asked incredulously, “Did all of your teachers assign you a stack of homework or what?”
About that time, Ronnie, the final third of the trio, strolled up. She had caught Gladys’ last words and chimed in. “I told her not to take all of those hard classes, but she’s hard headed. We are supposed to be chillaxin’ in our senior year,” Ronnie chastised with a smirk.
The two always teased Shayla about the excessive amount of time she spent studying each night. Even on Fridays when it was time to hang out, Shayla stayed glued to her books, determined to keep up her four-point-zero GPA.
“I take the same honors classes as you do, but my teachers don’t give me half as much work as yours. Aye, Dios mio! Coach Ballard takes his little science class too serious,” Gladys added two more unsolicited cents to the pot.
“I know! He does give me a lot of work, but lucky for me science is one of my faves, plus I like my honors classes. They’re preparing me for college, and I need all the preparation I can get.”
Being the brightest apple in the bunch, when it came to making the grades, Shayla cut took pride in cutting no corners when it came to being number one in her class, even if it meant studying all night. Gladys wasn’t too far behind in the intelligence department. Now, Rhonda a.k.a. Ronnie the Gangsta Grezille, on the other hand, well… Suffice it to say – not so much!
Hoping to encourage her friend, Shayla said, “Ronnie, on everything, I’m getting that master’s degree in psychology, pushing that Benz, and building my three-story house, all before I turn thirty. And I am going to do it all with brainpower. You should join the bandwagon, and start working on your master plan of success.”
Ronnie stated matter-of-factly, snapping her fingers for added effect, “I’m going to find a man that will do all of the above for me before I turn 25. Please believe me.” She rolled her neck as if what she had spoken was written in the bible of truth.
“Good luck with that, chica,” Gladys added, patting Ronnie on the shoulder sarcastically. “But as your friend, I have to tell you to have a plan B while you’re at it. Not saying you won’t land that fly papi to lace you with the finest things in life, mija, but just in case you don’t, have your own plan.”
“I got this, snitches,” was Ronnie’s response, so they dropped the subject.
Walking through the dimly lit school hallway, the three girls chit-chatted about school and their other number one topic of interest – boys. When they walked outside of the building, the strokes of the hot summer heat waves quickly struck them off guard.
Shayla’s soft set brown eyes and tender high-yellow face turned i
nto a frown as she quickly threw her hand up to protect her eyes from the sunlight. Rhonda scrunched her nose up as if the heat was causing a stench too strong for her to bear. Gladys simply walked ahead of the pack as if the heat had not bothered her in the least bit. Despite the scorching heat, the friends walked onto the schoolyard in a confident strut. They were the perfect trio – one smart, one fiery, and one salsa.
A million rays of sunlight couldn't blare out the image that caught their attention next. Damn, that ride is tight, Shayla thought.
“Nice ride,” Gladys was the first to acknowledge the approaching vehicle aloud. A freshly painted, speckled-gray Cutlass Supreme with limo tint rolling on eighteen-inch McLean wheels. Clean. The car swooped around the corner in slow motion, riding slow enough for the friends to get a nice glimpse of the ride. Music thudded so loud from the speakers that the noise sent vibrations through the schools’ glass windows.
Shayla said, “I wonder if he can even hear himself think in that car.”
Ronnie ignored Shayla’s statement and said, “Forget if they can hear. Riding clean like that I bet his money is good. What I want to know is, who is up in there?”
When the car finally came to a stop and the driver’s window slowly slid down, Shayla locked eyes with the caramel brown-skinned driver, and a millisecond of eye contact seemed like hours. The brother was rocking an LL Cool J hat to the back and could have been the rapper’s twin. Skin smooth like butter, luscious lips, and thick eye lashes to boot. His right brow had a slit down the middle like he had some kind of war wound. At that precise instant, he licked his lips, and they turned up into a nice, smooth LL Cool J-style smile. All eyes were on him.
When he looked in the direction of the three friends, the full effect of his handsomeness was overbearing. All they could talk about was how fine he was. Their raging teenage hormones completely took over their minds like a hypnotists spell. It was a good thing that he couldn’t hear anything due to the wicked bass line blasting from his vehicle. His gaze could easily pierce a hole through willing skin. It was Titus Wilson.
Ronnie spoke up first, sounding like Smokey and Craig from the movie, Friday, “Daaaammmn, he is fine! I’m about to get the 411…” She started sprucing herself up, but slowed her roll when she saw Mr. Jackson walking in the car’s direction.
Gladys couldn’t help herself. “Go on and get it, Ronnie. Study long and study wrong, and papi will be my boyfriend. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Caliente!”
“All I can say is what a sistah wouldn’t give! What a sistah wouldn’t give. Umph, umph, umph!” Ronnie said as she freshened her lip gloss.
Fighting back the dreamy look that threatened to take over her face, Shayla simply said under her breath, “A brother like that could take me anywhere, but I’m sure a man that fine is taken.”
Ronnie tossed an irritated look in Shayla’s direction. “There you go trying to couple up with a nigga, Shayla. You have to get to know a dude first, and then have a little fun. You don’t have to ‘boyfriend’ every guy that you think you might like, so to me it doesn’t matter if he has a girlfriend. Let’s leave that marriage and baby carriage for the next chick.”
“Whatever, Rhonda, I don’t do the casual dating scene and screwing around, and you know that. It’s just not my thing.”
“Well, he won’t be your thing, either,” she laughed and pushed Shayla teasingly.
The bass from the Cutlass’ trunk continued to vibrate the school windows with the deafening decibels damn near cracking the glass. For that reason, the gruff assistant principal, Mr. Jackson, fumed as he walked briskly toward the car. As evidenced by his finger pointing and constant yapping, it appeared as though he was scolding the object of the girl’s affection for having his music too loud on school property.
Once the music was at a satisfactory volume, Mr. Jackson walked away from the car, but not without a final warning. “Don’t let me have to tell you about your music again, Mr. Wilson. Understand?”
“Okay, Mr. Jackson,” the young man said before he appeared to zero back in on Shayla.
After Mr. Jackson walked away, it was Michael Hightower, better known as ‘Street Justice’ because of his reputation of running the streets, who trotted up to the car next. The three friends had continued to talk about Titus and how sexy he was, not realizing that Michael had been eavesdropping on the entire interaction. Some people called him ‘Street’ for short. He got the name Street Justice, because he had a reputation of righting all wrongs when it came to matters of the street. You couldn’t break a street rule and let Michael find out about it. He even had a strong following. He practically created the code of ethics for Tuskegee’s projects. Mind you, he had done all of this while maintaining decent grades in high school.
Having gotten an earful by standing next to Gladys the entire time the girls were talking about Titus, he said something to the driver and pointed in the direction of the three girls’. Shayla looked at Ronnie and then to Gladys, shocked. She was even more dumbfounded when Michael jogged back over and addressed her directly.
What are you up to Michael? She thought, but before she could say anything, Michael filled her in.
He said, “My cousin wants you to come over and holler at him, Shay.”
“Street, what does he want with me?” Shayla played it off like she was uninterested and irritated, but all the while on the inside, she was happier than a little bit. Is my hair in place? Do I need a piece of gum? The Thousand Island dressing from my salad at lunch has probably got my breath kicking. She questioned herself frantically. A laundry list of nagging thoughts crossed her mind as she thought about approaching Titus. Rubbing her fingers over her form-fitting shirt to iron out any crinkles, the only thing she could think about was her appearance. Shayla stood taut, visibly nervous, and wished she had a mirror to do a quick check.
