Gettin' Hooked Page 4

  And I was hearing ’bout it every chance they got, between classes, during lunch, after school, texts on my cell. It was gravity, though, because I was straight digging the attention. Cool with being the one all the Howard fellas went to when they wanted to know about my cousin and her friends.

  GettinHooked.com was bubbling and Kayla and I were in the middle of it.

  The talk about our hook-up system was constant. Even now, during my American Government class library time, I could hear some girls whispering a few tables over. Their voices carried in the hushed quiet of study.

  Not my friends really, but a couple of beezies who gave up their goodies way too easy. Not that I really had a problem with these girls. Nah, we were cool. I just don’t get down to the nasty the way they do.

  Creekside boys were going to be thankin’ me, I thought, biting my bottom lip to keep from laughing. Yanking up my hoodie, I focused on the book spread-eagle on the table in front of me. But even in the bright overhead lighting, the words mingled and fuzzed, my thoughts drifting ahead toward prom, and wondering if GettinHooked would work out the way I’d planned it to.

  Like everyone else, I was obsessed with the Web site.

  “Dayum,” one girl said, her voice squealing as she drew out the m. “Did you peep the new guys’ profiles?”

  There was some muffled laughter. “Hella fine.”

  I wasn’t really listening, but I could still hear most of their hushed words. Knew exactly what they were talking about.

  “I’ma get me some of that one boy.”

  “Who?”

  Yeah, who? I wondered, adjusting my hoodie so I could angle my eyes toward Chelsea and Brie, the two girls talking, though I wasn’t sure which of them had commented on wanting one of the Creekside hotties.

  But right as I looked over, Brie glanced my way and caught my eye. And smiled, kind of faulty, but whatever. I’ve known Brie since second grade when we ended up in the same class. Chelsea moved here a couple years back, from L. A., and brought some Southern Cali snob attitude with her, up here near The Bay.

  Though we were cool, we weren’t exactly friends, either, as we never hung at the same places, and I know these chicks wouldn’t have given a damn about me if it weren’t for my Web site.

  Brie broke eye contact first, glancing to Chelsea and whispering something. A few seconds later, they were gathering their stuff and grabbing their backpacks to move over to the table where I was sitting.

  “Hey girl, that shit you hooked up is hella clean,” Brie said, sliding into the plastic chair next to mine.

  Chelsea snapped her fingers before jabbing her hands to her popped-out hip. “Off the heezy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know all those dudes?”

  I shook my head. “The Creekside guys?” After they both nodded, I went on. “Nah, only some of ’em. They’re mostly Kayla’s peeps.”

  “Fo sheedo?” Chelsea mumbled.

  There was some sarcasm in her tone and I straight wanted to call her on it, but decided it best to let it go. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at her for sec, until the beotch backed down and plopped her ass into another chair.

  For real? Like I was holding some info back. Totally wasn’t feeling her attitude. If I’d known all those fellas the way I wanted to know one, they’d never even be asking. I’d have found another way to be with my boo.

  “You know some, though, right?” Brie must have been the one who’d been wanting to get her some of. She was crazy insistent.

  “I guess.”

  “There’s a new guy. You know ’im?”

  Shrugging, I thought over the guys who’d added last night. I’d gotten up late this morning, sleeping through my alarm until Gram had finally come in and shook my ass awake. That happens sometimes when I stay up till the A. M.s texting and marinatin’. And oversleeping had cost me a quick check of the site this morning.

  GettinHooked.com now had more than two hundred users and profiles. And more adding all the damn time. No way was I going to know what boy she was talking ’bout.

  “How new?” I asked, because at least that’d help narrow it down.

  “This morning.”

  Fricking figures.

  Chelsea smacked Brie’s upper arm. “He is fiiinnne! My girl wants him bad.”

  We all laughed, attracting glances from other students in the library. Brie did seem a little desperate. He must be hexa sexi. Pulling my cell from my pocket right quick, I glanced at the time just to see how much longer until I could blow this joint and get online. Check out who they were talking about for myself.

  About twenty minutes. “I haven’t looked at the new profiles yet. What’s his name?”

  “Maurice something. I can’t remember brotha’s last name.”

  A loud pounding started behind my ears and it took me a minute to figure out that it was my pulse bumping like bass drums. Maurice. My Maurice. Doing everything I could to look like I was chill, I struggled to breathe, but my lungs were all seized up and burning.

  If they meant my Maurice, not that he was really mine—yet—that’d mean that he’d gone ahead and set up his profile like he said he was going to. Or maybe I was tripping. Last I checked he didn’t have a page yet, and there could be more than one Maurice at Creekside. Shit, as far as I know there could be a dozen.

  “Simms?” My voice cracked. I could hear it, but hoped like mad neither Chelsea nor Brie noticed. And hoped like hell she said no.

  Brie licked her lips. “Simms. Yeah, that him. Maurice Simms.” Fanning her face, she lounged back in her stiff plastic seat. “That boy smokin’ enough to get some of my treats.”

  Behind my eyes started to sting, and I knew that meant the possibility of tears. Blinking, I pushed the liquid away. Hell no, I wasn’t crying over a boy.

  Not even Maurice Simms.

  When my I was little, I used to cry over not having a momma. Gram would hold me, my cheek pressed against her shoulder as she stroked my soft, kinky hair. “You can cry over your momma, Imani,” she’d whispered, “but don’t never, ever cry ’bout a boy.” Gram’s words rang loudly in my conscience now.

  Swallowing twice, I tried to clear the lump in my dry throat, to shove away the nausea churning in my gut. I’d done this all for him; sold Kayla on the idea, spent enough homework hours building our site that my grades could suffer, dismissed checking out other boys. I’d done this all for the chance to have a prom night to remember.

  For the chance to be with Maurice.

  Now I could lose the chance because some trick offering up easily opened thighs was stalking his fine ass. Bopper, the girl was fo sho a bopper. Only a ho would be offering up sex before she’d even met the guy.

  “…him a message. See if he wants to hook up.”

  Getting my tripping behind together, I pulled my attention back to the conversation. I’d missed what Brie had been saying, only catching the tail end.

  “Girl, shoot, if he don’t want none of you, I’ll take ’im,” Chelsea said, making a show of licking her lips.

  Lawdy, I wanted out of here now. Away from the table, away from the leg-spreading bendas, out of the library. Done with the school day. I needed to check Maurice’s profile, and I needed to straight get ahold of Kayla and find out…I paused and took a deep breath as reality seeped in.

  Find out what from Kayla? She didn’t even know I had it bad for the brotha who lived across the street. And even though he’d driven me home and put his number in my phone didn’t mean anything more than he was a nice guy. Sure didn’t mean he was into me.

  I had no claim, so if he wanted to respond to the GettinHooked messages that were sure to flood his box, that was on him.

  “Imani, did you hear Mikey Harper and that one Creekside girl, Shay Kline, hooked up already?” Chelsea asked.

  “I knew they were messaging. Whatcha mean by hooked up?”

  Brie giggled. “Doing the do.”

  “How do you know?” I’d lost it, really. What was I doing
sitting here gossiping with a couple of beezies? What I needed to do was get my American Government done right quick so I could spend the rest of the night matching up my profile to Maurice’s, just on the slight chance he’d pass up the offer of easy booty for me.

  “Saw ’em at Walgreens buying condoms.”

  My eyes got all wide in surprise. “Really?” Dayum…I guess GettinHooked was no joke. I laughed, even as I shook my head. “Guess my site works.”

  Through broken giggles, Brie said, “Fa’ sheezy, girl.”

  “How come you don’t have a page?” Chelsea was watching me all close, her mouth twisted into a smirk.

  Something was up with the girl today, the attitude brimming right up to her eyeballs. She could be downright nasty to folks she didn’t like, and I knew this. Still, I wasn’t having it. She came to my table and she wanted on my site, then she best come at me with some respect.

  Glaring back at her, I waited for her to ask again or make something of it. All bluster, I guess, because for the second time in ten minutes, she dropped the tone and checked her attitude.

  She shrugged, then asked again a little more nicely. “You going to do a page, Imani?”

  Um, yeah, tonight…or, shoot, right after school. “I’m getting around to it.” Some shuffling across the room caught my attention and I realized that other students were gathering their things and zipping up their packs. That had to mean the clock was ’bout to spring us from school. “I’m gravy, though, and not worried about it,” I said casually, closing the book and leaning over to get my bag.

  “Who you want to go to prom with?” Brie asked. “You had to have some dude in mind when you started this mess, didn’t you?”

  Shiieet, this chick was smarter than I gave her ho ass credit for. Damn straight, I knew who I wanted—always had, but no way was I going to tell her that she wanted the same hottie I did. No way was I going to let her think we were in competition.

  My heart had started thumping again, along with a tingle of apprehension that was working its way down my spine. “Don’t know.” A lie. Standing and shrugging my pack over my shoulder, I reached into the side pocket, then fit my stunnas over my eyes. “Haven’t checked all the profiles yet.” The truth, but I intended to as soon as I got my butt in front of my computer.

  The bell rang. Voices rose around us, and the flow of movement went eagerly toward the door as the rest of the students hustled out.

  “I’m out,” I said, flashing Chelsea and Brie a peace sign, then turned and quit the library before they said anything else.

  Hard to believe it was Friday already, nearly a week since my dad had come and gone again, and a few more days before he was landing in The Bay again. At least that meant that I’d be free tonight and tomorrow, unlike last weekend.

  I walked along beneath the building overhang, but then reached for my umbrella and snapped it open as I moved on, away from school and toward home. The steady drizzle still hadn’t let up none, but at least it wasn’t all that cold.

  A few other kids walked along around me, some drifting off in directions, giving a quick wave or shout-out goodbye. I returned the see-ya’s, but didn’t slow, too dang eager to get home and see the profile fine-ass Maurice put up.

  Time to do what I could to make my own appealing, more appealing than the flood of other pigeons he was no doubt about to get. I knew Maurice was hot. Knew he was fun postin’ with. Knew he was hella nice. Time now to see what kind of guy he really was. Guess I’d soon find out.

  CHAPTER 6

  I thumbed into my cell, ? up 4 2nite, then hit the button to send the text to Kayla. I’d been home a few hours, but pretty much hadn’t done much besides stare at Maurice’s profile on GettinHooked.com. Damn—the boy is fine. It was cool looking through the profile lists of his likes and dislikes, and I found myself smiling a few times, really digging this guy.

  It was kind of weird having looked at him all this time, passing by the cutie on my way to Kayla’s, peeping him every chance I got, and knowing he was hot, knowing that I was down with what I saw. But it was totally different now, reading about him and realizing this was a dude I could like. I mean hella like. A lot.

  I’d changed out of my damp jeans when I landed in the condo, and pulled on some warm sweats, then yanked my mad curls into a band at the back of my head, knowing they were going to frizz since they’d gotten wet. If I was going out with Kayla tonight I’d have to totally redo my hair.

  Shoving the cell into my pocket while I waited for her to respond, I headed to Gram’s room. I hadn’t talked to her much since I’d gotten home and wanted to make sure she had everything she needed before I went out for the night.

  Pale light seeped out her half-opened door, not just from the TV but from a small table lamp. That was kind of weird, considering I hardly ever saw the light on because it bothers her eyes. Leaning around the door, I looked inside and saw her sitting her favorite recliner, rocking slowly before the news.

  “Hi, Gram,” I said, moving into her room.

  She swiveled the chair, turning toward me, shifting something on her lap, then sliding it beneath an oversize book. “What is it, baby?”

  My attention was fixed on the fact that she seemed to be hiding whatever it was that she’d been looking at. And I couldn’t help wondering why. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing, Gram.” Though I answered, I couldn’t get my thoughts from lingering on what was now covered by the pages of her book.

  “I’m good, girl. Don’t you be worrying yourself about me, child.”

  But her voice sounded sad, a little more distant than usual. Maybe she was looking at pictures of my granddad. I’ve seen her doing that a bunch before, and it always seemed to bring on this mood. Must be it, I decided, not wanting to press her much about it.

  Moving farther into her room, I sat down on the edge of her bed so we could talk for a bit before I hit the town. Okay, not so much the town, but maybe a party or movie or something other than staying home on a Friday night. “Has daddy called?”

  She glanced slowly at the phone, the look of sadness somehow overshadowed by the darker image of guilt. What she had to feel guilty about, I couldn’t guess. She couldn’t change the fact that my dad worked for the airlines and spent most of his time in the sky. Gram sure as hell wasn’t responsible for the fact that my momma couldn’t deal with being a momma and skipped out on me before I’d formed any real memories of her.

  Gram shifted her gaze back to me, looking me straight in the face. “No, Imani, he hasn’t. Not since Wednesday night.”

  “He must be busy.” I knew he was, because I knew deep in my heart if he wasn’t he’d have called me. But even knowing it doesn’t help ease the ache sometimes. “He’ll be home this week, still?”

  “Baby, I’m sure he will.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and the strange mix of sadness and guilt clouded the sweetness of her words. Gram shifted forward, reaching to take my hand. She squeezed gently, the touch soft but firm, always the way of her loving.

  Clamping my lids closed, I willed away the flow of tears, something about Gram’s mood dragging on me. Swiping my free hand across my cheek to catch the lone escapee droplet that seeped past my lashes, I took a couple of breaths, then opened my eyes to see Gram looking me in the face.

  “Is it something else, Imani?” she asked.

  “Nah, just miss him, is all.” Reassuring her nothing else was popping off in my life, I leaned toward her to give her a hug right quick, but when I put my arms around her the book shifted on her lap and I caught the corner of a picture.

  Of me. My most recent school photo, the corner tucked into an envelope, a handwritten address mostly still hidden beneath the hardcover of the book. My gram’s handwriting, telling me she was sending it out.

  Oh, lawdy, my chest hurt bad, as my heart stopped beating for a sec. And my breath caught in my lungs as some strange pressure tightened around my stomach. Who was Gram sending a picture of me to? Some long hidden place in my soul gave
a shout-out, that maybe—just maybe—she was sending a picture to my momma.

  I had to bounce. Had to step out of her room, step the hell out of our condo before I pressed her about it. Gram wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t. I had to keep on believing that, and even with the little nagging doubt, I sure wasn’t ready to look for an answer right now. Maybe not ever. My momma left me, I told myself. I didn’t need to be fussing ’bout it at all. It was her loss.

  Straightening away from Gram, I smoothed my damp palms across my thighs just as my cell vibrated in my pocket. “I’m going out tonight, Gram. You all right if I stay at Kayla’s?”

  “I’m grown, Imani. I know how to take care of myself.” The resentment I always heard from her when I spent time with my momma’s family was back, replacing the other weirdness.

  “I know.” I kissed her cheek, then looked at the door so I wouldn’t stare at the corner of my picture poking out of its hiding place on her lap.

  “You be careful, girl.”

  “I will.”

  “Don’t be getting in no trouble, you hear?”

  “Fo’ sho’, Gram, I’m not about trouble,” I teased by adding a wink, then scooted right quick out of the way as she swatted playfully at my butt. Nope, I wasn’t looking for trouble tonight, unless you called hooking up with Maurice trouble. I called it fun.

  Assuming, of course, that Kayla and I ended up marinating at the same place he was chillin’ tonight. Hopefully my girl had the inside track of where we’d find him tonight, though I’d have to be on the down low about peeping the info since she didn’t know I was feelin’ the boy.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m out.”

  “All right, baby.”

  Forcing a smile, I left her room, closing the door all the way this time, then fiddling in my pocket for my cell.

  Dwn 4 a prty?, glared at me from the small, dark screen. Hell, yeah, I could be down for a party, and if it was Kayla’s crew, there was a good chance my boy would be there, too. Grinning, I thumbed in my yep, then headed to my room to pick out something hella bangin’ to wear.