Jayd's Legacy Read Free Page A

y’all later,” he says to my girls.
    â€œBye, Jeremy,” they say at once.
    â€œSo, when is the voting supposed to take place?” Mickey asks, truly annoyed. Anything that takes away from her chill time aggravates her.
    â€œAt lunch. And the finalists will be announced Wednesday at break. Make sure you tell everybody in your classes, Jayd. I have to make it onto the ballot,” Nellie says as we all head toward our respective classes.
    â€œWill do, Princess,” I say, teasing her. I’m sure she’s popular enough to make the ballot on her own accord. I really don’t want to get involved with all the election business. It’s too volatile here. These folks take their politics very seriously, as Nellie will soon find out.
    Â 
    When I get to Spanish class I notice our teacher/football coach, Mr. Donald, is wearing a dress shirt and tie like he does on game day every Friday during the regular football season. I wonder what’s going on.
    â€œGood morning, class,” Mr. Donald says, waiting for the bell to finish ringing before continuing. “I have a new student coming in this morning and I’ll need to talk to him outside for a few minutes. You’ll need to complete page eight in your workbooks. And, if you finish before we’re done outside, you can start your homework on page twenty-five of your textbooks,” he says, picking up his teacher’s edition and writing the homework assignment on the board under today’s notes.
    When I reach into my backpack on the floor next to my seat, I notice my workbook’s not in there. Damn it. I can’t go more than two days without leaving one of my Spanish books in my locker. Reluctantly, I have to ask for yet another hall pass.
    â€œMr. Donald?” I ask while raising my hand. He doesn’t need to turn from the board to look at me. He already knows what I’m going to say.
    â€œLet me guess, Miss Jackson,” he says. “You left your books in your locker.”
    â€œYes, I did,” I say. “I’m usually not this forgetful.” Mr. Donald turns toward the class and looks straight at me with no emotion.
    â€œHere, Miss Jackson,” he says, handing me the hall pass. “And, please make this the last time.”
    â€œThank you and I will,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed. I like to remain somewhat anonymous in my elective courses. I just want to pass, not make friends or enemies.
    As I rise from my desk to open the door, someone’s already on the other side pushing it open. I step outside, almost losing my footing, to see a face from the past.
    â€œThere she is,” Nigel, my old friend from back in the day, says as he releases the door to give me a tight hug. “How’s my girl been?” he asks. He looks too good to be visiting, dressed in a dark blue pin-striped suit and hat to match.
    â€œNigel, what’s up?” I say as he lets me go just enough to look up at him. Damn, he gives good hugs. “And more importantly, what are you doing here?”
    â€œGirl, it’s been a while and we miss you around the way,” he says, allowing the door to completely close and leaving us outside to quickly catch up.
    By his “we” I know he means Raheem. Whenever we’d get in a fight, which was often, Nigel would always play the middle man. But, this is the longest we’ve gone without talking, mostly due to us all leaving our old school, Family Christian, at the same time. Both of them now live in Windsor Hills, which isn’t far from Inglewood, but is still a completely different hood from my mom’s.
    â€œA while? Try two years,” I say, releasing myself from his embrace to look him in the eye.
    â€œSo, you’re balling like that now, huh?” he says, grabbing my wrist and eyeing my gold bracelet. “Must be nice chilling with the White folks,” he says. “But I’ll know soon