Who Am I Without Him? Read Free Page B

my own record company. But you right about one thing—I’m gonna make some pretty babies!! ’Cause I’m fine like that. But ain’t no babies coming here till I’m done with my fun, done with school, and making big money.
    P.S. There’s some pretty babies in you too. Guess you got it like that.
    Dec. 5
Dear J.
What you do on the weekends?
    Watch TV. Play Football. Eat. Eat. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Oh yeah, when I ain’t doing those things, I’m a junior fireman. Making the world safe. Ha, ha.
    You probably start more fires than you put out. Me, I work in a bathroom at a club downtown.
    Flushing toilets? Mopping floors? Gotta pay for that weave, huh?
    Very funny, Jaquel.
I don’t do toilets. I sell candy, mints, and mouthwash. Stuff like that. People give me big tips. Oh yeah, I give ’em warm washcloths for their hands.
    Devita Mae:
Who wants to eat where they poop? And who
wants to spend 8 hours in the john?
    Jaquel—
    Saturday I made $50.
    Who cares. Bathrooms stink.
    You saying I stink?
    No way, Devita Mae. Hey. What perfume
    were you wearing the other day?
    London After Dark.
    Nice.
    Dec. 8
    Dear Diary:
    We have been writing letters for over one month now. With every letter I write, I get braver. I ask Jaquel questions about the girl in Chicago. He asks me stuff too, like if I had a boyfriend, would I take money from him? If I had a boyfriend, would I tell him I would only go to the junior firemen’s ball with him if he bought my gown, paid for my hair, and sent me a ticket to come? Here I am, liking this boy, wanting nothing from him but to be sweet to him, and him be sweet to me in return (and that don’t mean buy me lots of stuff), and who does he want? Not me, but her: Chicago, money-pit girl.
    Dec. 12
    Dear Diary:
    Dominique gave us two weeks off, ’cause the boys are complaining about all the writing we do. She made us read some of our letters to one another though. Dominique loves reading letters, and writing them to people. And she wants us to feel that way too. “You can hide behind a computer keyboard or text-message,” she said one day, “but the hand that writes with pencil or pen, always wins hearts, friendship, and love in the end.”
    While she was teaching, Jaquel handed me a note. I laughed out loud when I got it. It wasn’t all that funny, but I was just so happy he wrote to me, just ’cause he wanted to. And before I thought about it I wrote a note to him, saying he should dump that girl in Chicago and take me to the junior firemen’s ball. He looked at me like he couldn’t figure out if I was fibbing or not. Don’t he know I’m the one for him? Can’t he see I like him, and I would never do him wrong? I wanna tell him that, Diary, but, well, you can’t tell a boy nothing like that. It would give ’em a big head and still they may not want you. When is he gonna like me the way I like him? Soon, I hope.
    Jan. 23
Dear Jaquel,
What was up with you coming to my table and
sitting with me and my girls at lunchtime?
    I was hungry.
    Oh. It was nice having someone different at our table.
    Hey Devita Mae:
You bring all that food every day?
    Jaquel, I like to eat. And I don’t want to eat the same thing all the time—pizza, fries, cold hamburgers. So I get up early and do my stuff right—ham sandwiches, potato salad, cheese steaks . . . sometimes my mom drops stuff off.
    Girl, you did that sweet potato pie up right the other day. Didn’t know you could cook like that. Made me skip health class three times this week, just to get me some more good eats.
    You let me know what you like, and I will hook you up.
    I like a lot of things. Sweet things, mostly.
    I see.
    Do you?
    Yeah.
    You sure?
    I’m sure.
    All right, then.
    Feb. 7
Dear Devita Mae:
This is personal. Don’t go telling your girls.
Well . . . forget it. Girls talk too much.
    Jaquel:
I would never tell something you wanted kept