I was sitting on my bed reading Dreamcatcher on a Monday evening at the end of January. We’d gotten the next day off for teacher development. Most people wouldn’t have come to school anyway, because we’d just finished exams that day, and a lot of us were worn out. I know I was. My last two exams were both of my AP classes. AP Government was a breeze, but AP Statistics tripped me a little. I was sure I’d pulled off at least an eighty-five.
     As I turned the page to the last chapter of the novel, my bedroom door flew open. I knew who it was before I looked up, because Marcus never knocks.
      “What do you want?” I asked as I continued to read my book.
      “Why you can’t look at me?” Marcus asked me. I smirked.
      “For the same reason you don’t speak properly.”
      “Ma said come down to dinner.”
     “I’m not hungry.”
      “Fine,” he said with a hint of arrogance in his voice, “more for me and ‘Shaad.”
     My eyes jetted from the page of the book to Marcus, who was grinning.
     Rashaad had been sent to jail at the end of my sophomore year. He received twenty months on a minor charge. I got up, pushed Marcus out of my room, closed, and locked my door.
     I started going through my dresser, frantically trying to find something flattering to wear to dinner. I am not the type of female (or “chicken,” if you seek technicality) who constantly feels the need to impress a man. Nor am I the type of girl (or “ho” to which they are commonly referred) who cheats on her man at every given opportunity. My relationship with Malik was perfect, and I had no cause for complaint.
     The reason for my wardrobe change was simple, really. Rashaad hadn’t seen me in almost two years. The last time he had seen me, I wore glasses and had braces, and I was a tad on the chubby side. I remember the day before he left he’d been teasing me about everything. Things I didn’t do, aliments I wasn’t victim of, and flaws I didn’t possess. Since then, I’d had my braces taken off, I’d gotten contacts and all that “chub,” as he so affectionately referred to my extra meat, had beneficially dispersed to different parts of my body. I wondered what he would think this time around. I’d been wearing my pajamas all afternoon, so I quickly changed into a pair of low rise hip huggers and a long sleeved black top. I pulled my hair down and fixed it around my face. Rashaad was going to regret everything he’d ever said to me.
     When I walked into the kitchen, everyone was already eating. My mother had made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens, and cornbread. Marcus and Jordan were sitting on the left side of the table, each with a plate full of chicken. Mom and Edward were at the ends of the table. Edward looked dead tired as usual. The only seat left was next to Rashaad, who had three pieces of chicken, four pieces of cornbread, and a plate full of collard greens.
     I sat down next to Rashaad. He looked over at me and almost choked on the piece of cornbread he was shoving into his mouth. He swallowed quickly and looked at me. I grabbed a wing and a drumstick as I pretended not to notice him looking me over. I put some greens and mashed potatoes on my plate as I felt his eyes move to my chest and torso. I grinned. I got out of my seat a little to reach for the cornbread and I felt his eyes move to my backside. I sat down quickly and Marcus and Jordan snickered while my mother laughed to herself and Edward just pretended not to notice.
     I turned my head and looked to Rashaad as he went back to his plate of food. I pushed my hair back behind my ears and cleared my throat.
      “Something I can help you with, Rashaad?”
     He shook his head and continued eating.
     I looked him over myself. He had a very muscular build. His fro was a little kinked up, but it still looked good. He didn’t look like most guys I’ve seen after they’ve gotten out of prison. Rashaad was still fine.
      “Aisha,” my mother began, causing me to shift my attention from to her from Rashaad.
      “Ma’am?” I inquired.
      “Malik called a few minutes ago. He said he wants you to call him back.”
     I nodded, but I didn’t get up. My mom wouldn’t have let me call him until after dinner, anyway. Rashaad and I made occasional eye contact during the meal. My mom was sweet to him, making sure he got enough to eat.
     Mommy made Rashaad’s favorite for dessert: peach cobbler. Jordan took his into the den so he could watch Barbershop for the 567,465,289,010,762th time. Edward took his to his room where he probably went to sleep before he could eat. Rashaad and Marcus joined Jordan in the den. I took mine outside to the porch along with the phone to call Malik.
     It was pretty cold outside, but I was willing to bear it for the little bit of privacy it would grant me. I sat down on the top step of the porch and dialed Malik’s number. I waited a couple of rings before his sister picked up. After a couple of minutes, Malik got the phone.
      “Hello?” he answered. I could tell he was eating something.
      “Hey, Baby,” I said sweetly.
      “Hey, Girl. What’s up?” He’d swallowed whatever it was that he was chewing.
      “Nothing. What are you eating?”
      “Pizza.”
      “Oh.”
      “Whatcha mama make for dinner?” I could hear that he was chewing again.
      “Fried chicken, collard greens, mashed potatoes, and cornbread.”
      “Oh real?” he swallowed again. “Then why I’m eatin’ this pizza instead of over there doggin’ yo’ mama chicken?”
     I laughed a little.
      “So what did you want me to call for?” I asked him.
      “Oh, yeah. It’s about tomorrow.”
     I sat back straight and raised my eyebrow.
      “What about it?” I asked him skeptically.
      “I gotta go see my uncle in Greensboro, Baby. I’m sorry.”
     I felt really bad, but there wasn’t much I could do or say. I understand that, sometimes, family comes first. I sighed and ate a forkful of my peach cobbler.
      “It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’ll find something to do.”
     Behind me, the front door opened. I turned and looked back at Marcus. I sighed and rolled my eyes.
      “What?” I said shortly.
      “I need to use the phone,” he demanded.
      “I’m on it right now,” I said.
      “Well, get off. You can talk to your little punk boyfriend later.”
      “No! I’m not getting off the phone!”
     He snatched the phone quickly out of my hand and held it up to his ear.
      “Bye, Malik,” he said before he hung up.
     I stood up and kicked him in the leg while he dialed a number. We walked into the house and I started for the stairs. I was beyond upset. Marcus has no respect for anyone else, just like his damn father.
     My foot touched the first step, and Marcus began to speak to me.
      “Rashaad wanna know can you do his hair tomorrow.”
      “Yes,” I told him coldly.
     I made my way to my room and slammed the door.