When we were young

You were so mean to me. I remember being the only 7-year-old girl to want to play-fight and you told me girls couldn't fight because we'd get hurt. Oh, boy, did I want to show you how wrong you were. When you told me to go play with my Barbie dolls I should have decked you. As a matter of fact, I think I did.

"Kendal Lee, did you hit that poor boy down the street?"

I stand with my lips poked out and my arms crossed over my chest. This is the stance my mama calls ‘The Tude' and promptly gives me a glare that tells me I'd better stop before she knocks the look off of my face.

"Kendal! Are you listenin' to me, girl? Did you hit that Hawaiian boy down the street?"

I look away and think about shaking my head, but I know that gesture will only get me into more trouble. Fighting and lying in the same day?  I was asking for a whoopin' and a weeks' worth of dishes.

"Yes, ma'am," I mumble.

"Dang it, Kendal. Like they need another reason to dislike us, you go and fight." Mama groans and lets the dish towel she's holding slap against her jean-clad legs. "Well, we're going over to his house and you're going to apologize."

"Mama..." I begin to whine.

She points a finger that tells me if I say another word the switch is coming out.

Mama is really good at telling me things without really having to tell me.

I sigh and reach for the door knob.

I shuffle my feet all the way, following behind mama. She looks back every so often to make sure I'm still there. When we reach the Jeffer's house, step up onto the porch and ring the bell, I'm thoroughly convinced this is the stupidest thing my mama has ever asked me to do.

"Hi, Mathea." Mama smiles cautiously when the oak door opens and Mrs. Jeffers pokes her head out.

Mrs. Jeffers is a stout woman with stern gray eyes, curly brunette hair and deep auburn skin. Mama said she's a ‘Cific Islander but I have no idea what that means. I rarely see Mrs. Jeffers smile unless it's during her weekly gossiping sessions with some of the other mother's whose kids go to my school. She's such a chatter box; at least, that's what mama always says when she's on the phone gossiping about Mrs. Jeffers gossiping.

"Hello, Lou." Mrs. Jeffers doesn't look too happy to see her and even less ecstatic about seeing me trying to hide behind mama's leg.

"Mathea, uh, I just want to apologize for Kendal." Mama grabs my shirt and pulls me in front of her. "And Kendal would also like to apologize to you and Keoni."

I look back at mama pleadingly but all I see is a wall of disapproval. I turn back to Mrs. Jeffers and sigh.

"I'm sorry..." I mumble and put my head down in shame.

"No needing to apologize to me," she huffs then turns to call over her shoulder to the victim in question.

I roll my eyes when the dummy slinks around Mrs. Jeffers' skirt. He isn't as dark as his mama due to his German daddy but he's dark enough to look ethnic. He's got a mop of sandy brown hair that needs a haircut and chicken legs that jut out from khaki shorts. I'm sure he'll grow into them one of these days. But for now, he is so ugly and annoying and mean. I can barely keep myself from pushing him down as he stands there with his head bowed and his shaggy hair falling into his face.

I feel a quick flick to my ear and I flinch. I sigh again and mumble an apology. "Sorry."

"There now. Kids will be kids, I suppose," Mrs. Jeffers says with a smile (which is very out of character for her) and opens the door wider. "It's hot out here. Want some iced tea, Lou?"

Even mama seems surprised when I look back and catch the quick flash of uncertainty. Mama and Mrs. Jeffers aren't friends and I've barely ever seen them say more than two words to each other. I hear more about Mrs. Jeffers than I actually see of her.

"Alright, that sounds wonderful." Mama steps around me and gives me one steely look that says it all. I'd better not misbehave or it'll be more than my butt.

When both women disappear, I shove my hands into my dingy blue-jean shorts.

"Aren't you going to say sorry to me?" I say abruptly and glare at the mop-head.

He lifts his face which is scrunched in confusion. "Huh? For what?"

It's then that I see the split in the center of his bottom lip. It isn't big but I feel a sense of pride in the fact that I did that. And he deserved it.

"For saying girls can't fight."

"They can't." he shrugs.

"Oh, yeah?" I step up to him, lift my fists quickly and get in a stance I'm sure will intimidate him. "Wanna see? I bet I could bust your lip again."

"You're stupid." He rolls his eyes.

"And you ugly."

He pushes me. "Yo mama!"

I shove his shoulders. "Yo daddy!"

"I'll kick your butt!"

"Let's see!" And I lunge.

We both got our butts kicked that day but not by one another. Our mamas put a tearing into both of us. I recall not being able to sit for about a week after that. I couldn't look at you and not get a throbbing in my rear for months afterward. Let's face it; I didn't want to look at you. I didn't like you.

When we were young adults

We actually became friends. I'd say good friends; the best of friends. I guess two strong willed, knuckle-headed 7 year olds don't know what's good for them. But you were good for me and I think deep down I knew. I knew that there was something there.

"Kenny? Earth to Kendal..." My friend Leslie waves a hand in my face.

I'm too busy with my head in my book studying to pay attention to anything she's just said.

Leslie Nowden is my best friend and probably the darkest girl I've ever met. I think she may have Haitian in her genes but her mama isn't that dark and we're not sure about her daddy; who died in the war a few years back. He was pretty much absent her entire life and until she'd heard the news of his passing, she could have cared less to get to know him. She has a step-dad now, who's really nice. She doesn't have much to say about him but she sure has a lot to say about other things. She is always talking, talking and talking some more. I can never get a word in edge wise, but luckily I don't have much to say. I've become more of a listener, giving up my old outspoken ways. Now, I'm a quiet observer and I like it that way.

"Huh?" I finally look up into dark brown eyes that are glaring at me. "What?"

"I asked if you had a date to prom."

I snort and shake my head. "Leslie, you know how I feel about prom."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes and repeats my self-invented mantra. "Prom is a patriarchal fashion show, designed to make the pretty feel superior and the ugly feel uglier."

"Exactly." I smile and point my pencil at her.

"I thought you were just playin' when you'd said that last year. I didn't think you were serious."

"Well, I am. I don't see the point in spending money on hair, nails and make-up when it's all going to sweat off in that sauna of a gym." I adjust my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "Besides, if I wanted to be grinded on, I'd have hired myself a pimp and be doing it with the added bonus of pay."

This made her laugh and then get hushed by the school Liberian who threw us both a stern look. She should be happy we're not cutting up like the rest of the class in study hall.

"Seriously," I continue in a hushed tone. "I don't see the point."

"If this is about money, you don't have to worry. I can do your hair and make-up. Plus, I have two prom dresses. Don't ask me why. Mom and I got our wires crossed at the mall."

I sigh and chew on my eraser. "It's not about the money."

It really isn't. Since mama and daddy have found better jobs, we're doing much better keeping up with the bills and even having money left over. It isn't about the money.

It's about a date, but Leslie doesn't have to know that.

"If this is about a date..."

Damn, she's good.

"Why don't you ask Keo? You two have been friends for, like, forever."

"Keoni?" I snort again. "Keoni wouldn't want to go with me. He has Jessica Warren to go with."

Jessica Warren, ugh, that blond bitch. She's not the nicest girl by far but she is one of the smartest. We've been fighting for the Valedictorian spot since last year. The battle began when we were both nominated for student council in 9th grade and has continued through our high school careers. Now, we can't be in the same room without wanting to tear each others eyes out. It definitely hasn't helped that she's dating one of my closest friends.

I keep telling myself I don't care that he's with her but I can't help it. Something tells me he's not supposed to be with her. He's supposed to be with...

"They broke up. Haven't you heard?"

A quick jolt of happiness passes through me but I use my poker face to disguise it.

I shrug disinterestedly. "I try to stay away from Braylen High's grape vine. You're liable to get tangled and choked in it."

"You and your sayings." She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Hmm, look who's coming over..." Her smile drops instantly and I'm a little more interested to see who's coming our way.

"How's it going, Kendal?" It takes everything in me to keep from shifting away when Jackson Fletcher sits down next to me.

The guy has this thing about personal space that makes me want to revert back to my old ways of hitting annoying boys who won't quit bugging me. Jackson is cute, no doubt, with his flawless dark skin and piercing hazel eyes. If I were any normal girl (like Leslie) I'd have gone out with him a long time ago. But I wasn't normal, I was smart. And I was onto him like a bomb sniffing dog in an airport that had a scent.

"Just fine, thanks." I say dismissively and go back to re-reading the sentence about SAT test preparation.

"So..." He pauses and waits for me to look at him, but I'm not going to. When he finally figures it out, he continues. "Do you have a date for the prom?"

"Not going." I state curtly without taking my eyes away from the book.

"Why? Daddy not letting precious Kenny out of his sight?" He laughs at his own non-joke.

My daddy is strict but not that strict or stupid enough to let me go out with boys like Jackson and not know their motives. I'm happy for his strictness, it's the nicer excuse I use when people ask why I never date. The real reason is no one has ever really been interested; until Jackson, unfortunately.

This time, I do roll my eyes and look up at him.

"No, I'm just—" I start but Leslie interrupts me.

"We're going. But with a group of friends."

"Oh, you're going as lesbos. That's nice." This statement shocks me. Jackson has never been overtly mean to me before and up until then I'd never shown my complete disdain for him but that was just uncalled for.

I open my mouth, ready to tell him to go play in traffic but Leslie beats me to the punch again.

"Get out of here, asshole. We're going to prom, just not with mutants like you."

He sighs and looks at me apologetically before pushing from his seat. When he's finally gone, I look at Leslie incredulously.

"What the hell, Leslie? I'm not going to prom. I just told you that."

"I don't have a date and I'm still going."

"It's not about a date. It's...it's the principle of it all."

"You're lying! Stop using that as an excuse and just have fun for one night. Is it so difficult for you to have fun? Throw caution to the wind and shake your groove thang?"

I giggle and shake my head. "Shake my groove thang? What decade are you from?"

"Shut up. You know what I mean. Just...please? Please come with me?"

She gives me the sad eyes. I'm not affected by the sad eyes she uses on her step-dad to get him to agree to anything, as much as she's sure I am. I just hate the begging. It's annoying.

I sigh and grumble. "Fine."

She does a small dance in her chair and gives an inaudible squeal. "Come to my house after school, and we'll try on the dress."

When the bell rings for the end of the period, Leslie gathers her books and shoots up quickly. "Don't forget!" She calls over her shoulder and dashes out of the library so quickly I'm pretty sure she gives a few people whiplash.

My next period is Chemistry and I'm damn good at it. When most of my peers are failing or just scarping by, I'm getting an A with ease. I don't know what it is about the way chemicals react that excites me but I find I have a knack for it. With my books in my hand I turn and run into something solid and warm.

Already annoyed with this day and this person in my way, I snap my head up to get a good look at the human brick wall.

"Hey, Kenny," He smiles.

It's always that smile that has me.

Keoni Jeffers grew into those scrawny chicken legs I'd always teased him about and has put them to good use on the basketball court. His sandy brown hair has turned a few shades darker and is now a deep brunette like his mama's. Instead of a messy mop on his head, his hair is perfectly quaffed to one side and looks feathery soft. There is a very faint scar in the center of his lip that always makes me grin.

"What's going on, Keoni?"

He's ‘Keo' to everyone else because ‘Keoni' is too formal and most people mispronounce it, according to him. But he's always been Keoni to me, without any question or correction.

"Nothing, I just saw Fletcher storm out and saw you..."

I wave him off. "He was just being an idiot, as usual."

"If you want me to tell him to back off, I can. I won't have him messing with my girl."

My stomach does a back flip. The way he says it isn't passionately but still full of conviction. He has a good 3 inches on Jackson and I'm sure he can wipe the floor with him; if not get the basketball team to be my personal bodyguards for the rest of the year.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me."

"Ken, I always worry about you. You're my best friend."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. As I recall, I handled you back in the day."

He chuckles and tilts his head to the side to give me an adorable lopsided grin. "That was a lucky shot. If I were as big then as I am now, you wouldn't try that."

"Wanna bet?" I stand on my tiptoes to try to make myself taller but I'm average height and there's no competing with Keoni's s 6-foot frame.

"Your line is, ‘wanna see?'" He points out with a smile.

My stomach does a double back flip. He remembers.

"I'm sorry. Wanna see?"

"You're stupid." His smile widens.

I try to hide my laughter. "And you're ugly."

"I don't remember you speaking so proper when we were seven."

I shrug and remember I need to get to class before we both get caught by the freshmen hall monitor. That kid is drunk with power.

"We've gotta get to class before—"

I groan inwardly when the tardy bell rings. Crap. I'm late.

"I'll call you tonight." Keoni says and starts to back away. "And if you don't pick up, I'll kick your butt."

I roll my eyes and bite my bottom lip as I head to class.

I started to suspect that I was in love with you when you'd smile at me and I'd get butterflies in my stomach. For a while, I thought it was just hormones or possibly indigestion. But it was you.

When we were in love

I was pretty oblivious. Prom night was the night I knew for sure. After you'd rescued me and kept me safe. I knew that I was in love with you. I'm not sure if I knew or cared that you felt the same. All that mattered to me was that you knew how I felt about you; how I've always felt.

Leslie is holding my wrist too tightly and smiling too much. Her mama loves to take pictures and I roll my eyes every time she goes to grab another disposable camera and empties the roll of film.

"Alright, that's enough, Mom!" Leslie says and relaxes out of her pageant pose.

"Hold on. Just let me..." Mrs. Nowden goes for another camera.

"No! You have over hundred pictures of us. We need to go so we can grab a table."

"Okay, I'm sorry. It's just not everyday your only daughter goes off to prom." Mrs. Nowden sniffles and makes us all feel uncomfortable.

"Yvette, calm your butt down. She's just going to prom, not getting married." Leslie's step-dad, Robert, rolls his eyes at his wife.

"Oh, hush up, Robert." She waves him away and turns to us. "Now, I want y'all back before midnight. No drinking, smoking, sex—"

"Mom, geez!" Leslie puts her hands over her face and groans. "We've got it. Can we please go?"

She kisses both of our cheeks and sends us out the door. She hands Leslie the keys to her newly detailed Honda. "Have a great time, girls!" She waves until we back out the driveway and disappear down the street.

"Lord, she's so embarrassing." Leslie says.

"At least you got out the door before she started the sex talk."

She cringes. "Sorry, girl."

When the school comes into view I shrink into my seat. It's not a long drive from Leslie's house and I wish it'd been longer. I adjust my dress and pull the visor down to inspect my make-up in the small mirror.

"You look great." Leslie assures me.

That's easy for her to say because she's gorgeous and she knows it. I, on the other hand, have a hard time seeing the beauty on the outside. I know I'm beautiful within, but the mirrors haven't agreed with me in the years since puberty. My breasts are heavy, my waist isn't small and I have just enough of a butt to keep the other black kids at school from talking bad about me. I always hid my body in my hoodie and jeans but tonight all of the assets I'd try to conceal are on full display in the strapless turquoise dress that hits just above my knees. Leslie curled my hair and piled it on top of my head. She had tried to get me to wear a tiara but I had to draw the line somewhere. I let her experiment with make-up and thankfully my skin is clear enough to where I only need eye shadow, lip gloss and a hint of blush on my cheeks.

I have to admit, I do look great.

Leslie jerks the car to a stop when she finally finds a parking spot and I wobble in my heels when I step out.

"These are going to take some getting used to." I say and balance myself before I try to take another step. I feel like I'm walking on stilts and should be in the middle of the Barnum and Bailey circus.

"Just hold onto me." Leslie takes my arm and we stroll as smoothly as possible into the school gym.

I pull out my ticket and hand it to the freshmen who gave me a tardy citation for being late to class the other day. I glare down at the kid because I'm at least 6 inches taller than him in my heels now. His eyes are wide with shock and his mouth looks glued shut. I dare him with my eyes to say something. When he doesn't, I keep on walking.

The gym isn't completely transformed. I can still tell it's the same dingy, dust ridden gym that our school funding should have paid to renovate years ago. It looks a little nicer, though, with the lights dim and miles of hanging lights in assorted colors hanging from the ceiling. Someone pulled out a section of the bleachers, even though there are a plethora of places to sit at the tables strategically scattered around.

I look at the number on my ticket that tells us what table we're placed and I let Leslie continue to lead me. I'm not ready for a solo flight just yet.

I suddenly feel self-conscious as I make my way around other tables, like everyone in the room is watching me. I hate when people gawk. I want to tell them to take a picture, but I've had enough picture-taking for many years to come.

When we finally reach our seats, I hurriedly sit and slink down into it. I wish I could disappear into the ugly vinyl.

"Kendal, don't look so uncomfortable!" Leslie says from across the table.

"I can't help it." I say through gritted teeth and rub my bare shoulders.

She rolls her eyes and stands. "Well, I'm gonna get a drink. Want one?"

I shake my head and continue to rub at my shoulders. I watch her saunter away, completely confident in herself and her attire. I wish I could say the same. I search the room, just looking. I'm not really looking for anything or anyone in particular...okay, I'm looking for Keoni. I've never seen him in a suit before and I'm sure he looks devastatingly handsome.

"Why so lonely, beautiful?"

Of all the times to annoy me, Jackson had to pick now. I'm daydreaming about Keoni in a suit and here he comes ruining it. I look up, about to dismiss him, but stop short when a full bloomed rose obstructs my view.

"Wow, Kendal, you look amazing." He says breathlessly and hands me the long stemmed flower.

"Go away, Jackson." I stand up, ready to make my escape and find Leslie, but I moved too fast. I'm tripping in slow motion. I can feel my knees buckling and the floor coming closer. I close my eyes and brace myself for the fall, and the impact but it never comes.

Strong arms are around me and I open my eyes to see Jackson wolfishly smiling down upon me. I want him to let me go but I can't move in the position I'm in, especially with these damn heels. I'm going to throws these at Leslie's head once this night is over.

"Kendal, I'm sorry for the other day. I just...I like you. And I guess I just got sick of being rejected. I didn't know what else to do."

I push away from his chest and finally right myself, smoothing out my dress and making sure my hair is still intact. "Thank you, Jackson. And apology accepted."

Apology isn't really accepted but I see sincerity in his eyes and that makes me more willing to try and accept it.

"Will you...dance with me?"

Can I really decline after he just saved my life? I can, but I opt to be nice for just one dance. It's the least I can do, I guess.

The music pumps through the huge speakers, situated in front of the makeshift dance floor. The deejay to my left is in a world of his own, playing the latest hits that I can't stand. I'm an old fashion girl. I love music from every decade except this one. Although, I'll take any song as long as it's not slow. I don't want to get unnecessarily close to Jackson.

When the music changes and begins to slow, I groan inwardly. God seems to have developed a sense of humor tonight.

Jackson beams and holds out his arms, like I'm just going to walk right into them.

"Above the waist, only." I point at him, sternly. "If I feel your hands sliding lower I'll give you a swift kick."

"No touchy, touchy."

But the way he says it makes me think he really will ‘touchy, touchy' me if I'm not careful. I suck it up for one dance.

We sway to the rhythm, or at least I try to get him to sway. He's moving way too fast, on the up beat of the song instead of the down beat. I want this dance to end quickly because I can smell his cologne which is sugary sweet and extremely overpowering. I feel him pull me closer and roll my eyes but I don't stop him. Just a few more seconds and I'll never have to be this close to him ever again.

"You look very beautiful tonight." He whispers into my ear and goose bumps form up my left side. It annoys me that I've reacted involuntarily. I squirm in his arms and he takes this as his cue to make a move. He kisses right under my earlobe and I immediately pull away.

"Jackson." I put my hands on my hips and glare at him.

"What?" He looks so innocent but I know better. "What'd I do?"

I shake my head and walk away shakily. I've had enough of this crap. I need to go to the bathroom and try to wipe his scent off of me.

The hallway leading toward the bathroom is dark. As I make my way farther away from the gym, I can hear my heels clicking against the linoleum floor. It sounds like gunshots when it's quiet. The sounds of prom are lost as I continue my journey through the dark abyss. I look over my shoulder quickly because I think I hear something. I'm so paranoid. I'm too old to be afraid of the boogie man. It's nothing but my imagination but I know I should have waited for Leslie to go with me.

I let out a squeal when a hand lands on my shoulder. I whip around and it's Jackson. I roll my eyes and turn to walk away .

"Kendal? Why are you being so mean to me?" He holds my shoulder tighter to keep me in place. His touch is unwelcomed and I wish he'd remove his hand from my skin.

"Just leave me alone, Jackson."

"No. I want to know what your fuckin' problem is."

My eyes widen and I'm stunned into silence. Since when did he cuss and at me? I've had just about enough of these mood swings with him.

"My freakin' problem is you. You just can't take a hint. Well, I'm going to tell you point blank. I do not like you; romantically or otherwise. I didn't want to hurt your feelings but Jackson, you went too far kissing me in there."

He rolls his eyes and steps closer, which prompts me to take a step back.

"Maybe if you'd open yourself up, you'd see that we'd be good together."

I'm beginning to feel afraid. I don't hear anyone or anything over my own breathing. I don't like being alone with Jackson, even though I'm sure I can take him down. Regardless, I don't like this caged in feeling.

I move to step around him but he blocks my path. I move to the other side and he does it again.

"Jackson, move out of my way." I punctuate each word and try to stand up taller, even though I'm no where near his height.

"Just one kiss, Kendal. That's all I'm asking for and if you don't feel anything, I'll leave you alone."

"No. Now, move." I push at his chest but he's unmoved.

Jackson goes to cup my face. I turn away and whip my hand out instinctively. I connect with his cheek and the echo of the slap resounds throughout the empty hall. We both freeze. I haven't put my hands on another person in anger since Keoni. And it's then that I wish he were here.

"Take—" I begin but I'm quickly interrupted.

"Your hands off of her, Fletcher."

It's Keoni and I sigh with relief.

I'm finally able to get out of Jackson's hold. I side step him and continue on my way to the bathroom like nothing ever happened. When I reach my destination, I let a few tears fall. I've never been so uncomfortable in my entire life and I know now that I'll never be able to look Jackson or Keoni in the face without remembering the horrible feelings. But I know I have to face them and thank Keoni for what he did.

Ten minutes later, I've composed myself and relieved my bladder. I poke my head out of the swinging door and don't see any sign of either boy. I cautiously make my way back toward the gym.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Keoni asks from behind.

I'm not surprised that he's still there but I am surprised I completely missed him before.

I contemplate turning around because I know I'm going to see anger written all over his face. I can hear it in his voice already. He's completely pissed off. When I'm finally facing him, the only thing I can think of is that I was completely right in my earlier daydream.

He is devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit.

"I didn't think I was going to get sexually harassed in the school hallway. I'll be more careful next time." I say sarcastically and begin to turn away.

"Kendal." His softened voice stops me in my tracks. "Are you all right?"

I can only nod as he pulls me into an embrace that penetrates my soul. Warmth flows all the way down to my toes and back up again. I always feel comfort when I'm with Keoni but for the first time, I feel safe. His fingertips trail up my back, caressing gently. Without thinking, I sigh and mold myself against him. We've hugged before but never this close or for this long.

Its intimate and I like it.

The lapels of his suit smell amazing. The spicy clean scent reminds me of being in the jungle of my backyard; where vines hang, trees hundreds of years old stand and there's a worn path where Keoni and I have played tag. A smile plays on my lips as I think of all the times we used to chase each other around in that wooded area as kids or how we'd held séances out there when we got older.

It's then that I realize he's in almost every memory I have since I was seven.

It's always been him.

I push away from his body and look up. His face has relaxed and eyes are as dark as onyx stones. I've never seen them so shaded before but I like it. It's so sexy. It's so...Keoni.

"Keoni, I...thank you."

He doesn't respond back but he continues to watch me. Scratch that, he's no longer looking at me, he's looking through me. He's searching my eyes for something. I don't know what but when his head dips and his lips ascend upon mine, I'm sure that he's found it. He found me. I found him.

We found each other.

That was the singular most exhilarating moment of my life. When we kissed, the world fell away and it was just the two of us.

"Do you remember?" I say to the stone slab, as if Keoni can hear me from underneath the ground.

His headstone is granite and carved on it is a dove above his date of birth and death. The epitaph below reads:

Each life is like a letter of the alphabet. Alone
it can be meaningless. Or, like his beautiful
years with us, it can be part of a great meaning.

I still don't understand that meaning and I have a feeling I never will. I maintain my stance that he was taken from me too soon but no one seems to want to argue for the affirmative. That's okay; I know Keoni would agree with me, if he were here. He's been gone 2 years ago now and I can still feel him — his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. His sweet kisses will always be with me. He'll always be with me.

"It was always you, you know that?" I kiss my index finger and lay it on his name.

A quick gust of warm air whips past my cheek for a moment and I close my eyes while a smile engulfs my face.

He knows.