“Clarissa, it’s called multiple personalities, as in more than two—just for your information. If you were half as smart as you try to pretend to be, you’d know not to say something so ridiculous—Duel personalities—Please, that’s not even a thing. Besides, having multiple personalities doesn’t have a damn thing to do with stretching; only an idiot would say something so stupid.”
Clarissa stood there, staring daggers at the three of us but didn’t say a word in response. How could she? Her face and all down her neck turned an unhealthy purplish-red color, almost like she was holding her breath. The rage of being embarrassed publicly seethed in her eyes, and then she finally stormed off to the other side of the gym. There were only two or three girls on the team who actively hung out with Clarissa. Her fans and the group she ran with were not athletic types. In fact, it was common knowledge that the only reason Clarissa did any sport other than cheer-squad, was because her dad forced her to.
“You can let me go now, Drew. I promise I’m not going to murder Clarissa—at least not today,” Jennifer said in much calmer tones than before.
He peered down at her, “Are you sure about that?”
She gave an exaggerated nod, and her platinum blond ponytail flicked him in the face. I laughed because I knew she did it on purpose. He simply dropped her, and she landed on the hardwood floor with a thud. She glared up at him and then burst out in a rolling fit of laughter.
“You should see your face,” she told Drew, “You are not amused! That’s what your expression is saying.”
He was about to give her a slicing comeback, but his phone started ringing distracting him from whatever he’d been about to say. I gave Jennifer an arm up as Drew strolled off to take the call. We were in the middle of leg stretches by the time he made it back to us.
“Hey Eden, that was Aiden. Do you mind if I borrow your car to drop by his house? I can be back by the time your practice is over?”
“Yeah, I guess. We’ll be done at 2:30.”
He completely blindsided me when he bent down and kissed me goodbye. The gesture had the rest of my team responding with giggles and a collective, “Awe.” Drew flashed his lopsided grin toward the rest of my teammates, and more giggling ensued. I knew my ears were probably beet red.
“See you in a couple of hours,” he said and left just as the coach came out of the locker room.
“Alright, ladies, let’s line it up for suicides,” Coach shouted.
This time the collective reaction was a series of groaning, mine included. Suicides were the worst!
Chapter Eighteen
Something Worth Fighting For
I’d forgotten how much practice made my muscles hurt if I hadn’t been active for a while. My legs were screaming at me as I sat outside of Bromley with Jennifer waiting for Drew to get back. She’d refused to leave until he showed up.
“I wonder what’s taking him so long. He told me he’d be here.”
Just then, Clarissa walked around the corner with an angry look on her face.
“What’s wrong Eden, did Drew finally get tired of his nappie headed girlfriend. You make sure to tell him I’m still available. I might forgive him and still give him a second chance.”
“Seriously, Clarissa, is that the best you got? We are both mixed, it just so happens that my African roots are more dominant than yours. My hair isn’t nappie, it’s curly.”
“Curly—nappy—it’s all the same thing, Eden. My hair is smooth, straight—silky, and boys like Drew prefer my kind of hair, you know it’s true.”
“What do you mean, boys like Drew?” I was quickly starting to lose my patience, and if that happened, it wouldn’t be Jennifer, Clarissa would have to worry about.
Are you gonna let her talk to you like that? Echo's tone carried a note of expectation. Don’t let her speak to you like that, Eden, stand up for yourself!
What do you think I’m doing, Echo.
Debating, she said dryly.
I could feel how disappointed she was that I didn’t stand up for myself in a physical way. It was evident that she wanted me to kick Clarissa’s butt, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to lean that way as well.
“White boys,” Clarissa said simply, “want a girl who has hair they can run their fingers through, not hair they’ll get them stuck in.”
Clarissa got most of her looks from the and Native she had in her. Looking at the two of us, you’d never think that we had almost identical racial backgrounds. She got straight hair and light eyes, but her skin was darker than mine. My complexion reminded me of the caramel candy squares my grandmother used to keep on the coffee table.
“You know Clarissa, it’s sad that you let something as insignificant as the type of hair you have, define who you are. I’m proud of every bit of heritage I have in me, that’s what makes me who I am, the fact that I am so culturally diverse—and I embrace it!”
Clarissa smiled
