For Blood & Glory Page 8

  “Do you botox?” asked Danielle who’d been staring at her the whole time.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “You know,” said Danielle pointing demonstratively toward her own mouth, “your lips?”

  “No,” answered Sefira, trying not to appear as taken aback as she felt.

  Danielle continued, “Wow, your lips are so round and puffy. I love your hair too. Where do you get it done?”

  “Thanks, I, um, do it myself.” She ran her fingers through her braids.

  “I love it. Cinnamon with a blond twist—so Beyoncé. Maybe you can show me how?”

  It was a nice compliment. “Maybe.”

  There was a group in the distance. A crowd of girls and guys making just enough noise to catch everyone’s attention. “Who are they?” asked Sefira, gesturing in their direction.

  Erin answered, “You know how it goes. Every school has an ‘in’ crowd, and that’s them.” He nodded. “That’s what you have to look forward to.”

  “Ah, man, don’t listen to him,” said Xavier. “If we ain’t ‘in’, they can’t be that dope. Ain’t that right, Jordan?” He leaned over the table and slapped hands with a guy that must’ve served only as his hype man, because, quite frankly, he hadn’t said a word the entire time she had been sitting there.

  “I don’t know, man.” Erin shook his head. “I think Giselle’s kinda dope.” He bit his sandwich. Sefira followed his gaze to the person that seemed to be the center of attention. A curvaceous girl with bronzed skin and a pixie face leaned against a lunch table as girls and guys surrounding her vied for her attention. Despite this, she seemed aloof. Her sleeveless blue top and white skirt caught the wind as she reached for her purse and retrieved a cell phone. She brushed her long, sandy brown hair away from her face and began to text furiously. Yep, she was pretty and well put together, had to give her that. Once again, Sefira became keenly aware of the drab that was known as her outfit. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes left.

  “You takin’ off?” Xavier inquired of Sefira.

  “Yep. I have to do a few things before class.” Leaning in Sky’s direction, she said, “Hey thanks.”

  Sky swallowed her food. “No problem.”

  “We hang over here almost every day. You should stop by tomorrow,” said Xavier.

  “Yeah? Well I might just do that.” Sefira rose from the table, grabbed her backpack and started walking through the crowded quad towards the restrooms.

  The school was the epitome of Southern California. They had a wave for a mascot for goodness sake. Having finally made friends at her old school, Sefira wasn’t too excited by the idea of having to move again and was secretly banking on hating the new place. But, it was hard to hate such a striking campus. Apparently, it had been renovated over a year ago. She wasn’t sure what it looked like before, but now it boasted long, sienna-colored brick buildings with brand new interior and exterior lockers. Throughout the exterior isles were newly planted palm trees and wooden benches, a few of which had concrete statues crafted to imitate kids reading books or leaning against trees. Of course, those kids now had bird droppings, hand-drawn mustaches, and a few expletives written on them, but it was still cool just the same. The back of the campus was just as nice. There were freshly-painted portables with shiny doors and the carpets inside still had that new smell. Besides that, the gym was decent, and they even had a swimming pool. Davis High did not have a swimming pool. The track and football field were on the other side of a large parking lot. Before school had officially started, she’d driven by with her mom to take a look and was disappointed by the fact that they had a dirt track, but the grounds were well kept and the stadium was clean. Wasn’t bad.

  As nice as the school was, it was small compared to what she was used to. Half the size of her high school back home. That could be good or that could be bad.

  If only Zada were here. Zada was her best friend at Davis. She chuckled to herself thinking about some of the hilarious things Zada got away with. That girl had balls of steel and could fit in—or not, anywhere. If it weren’t for her, the school would’ve been unbearable. Not so much because of the people—as far as Sefira was concerned, they were more or less just like everyone else. It was because her life was just so darned complicated. Especially, at that time.

  Before Sefira left, Zada had impressed upon her that they would remain friends forever, but Sefira doubted that. She’d sworn to “forever friends” at least a half dozen times before. Forever usually proved finite within a matter of weeks. She lamented the thought of losing the legendary Zada Childs.

  “Hey, Sefira—wait up.” It was Alaina, one of the girls

  from the lunch table. “Which way are you going?”

  “This way,” Sefira nodded East. “Towards Chem.”

  “Yeah? Me too. I’ve got Spanish. I hate Spanish. The teacher wears short skirts and sits on the desks and the guys hang on every Spanish word that comes out of her mouth. Half of them have no idea what she’s even saying.”

  “Really? Sounds interesting.”

  From the corner of her eye Sefira saw a couple of guys tossing a football around. As they squeezed through a crowd, she heard somebody shout ‘heads up!’ A body dove in her direction intending to make a catch. Instinctively, she turned and caught a football single-handedly.

  “Ooh, that mess was tight. I threw heat and she caught that better than you, Kae,” one of the guys teased.

  “Hey, I am so sorry, I thought I had that. Gotta give it to you though, that was impressive.” An intoxicating smile spread across the face of the most beautiful boy Sefira had ever laid eyes on. The first thing she noticed were his molten chocolate eyes that seemed to paralyze and liberate her at the same time. As gorgeous as his eyes were, they were rivaled by his candied, molasses-colored skin, which was as smooth and boundless as pudding. Time took a momentary hiatus as they both smiled at one another. Neither of them spoke. Oddly, Sefira could feel eyes boring holes into her body. She looked beyond the Adonis before her to see the pretty girl from the table watching them from a distance with a scowl on her face. The same girl Erin was drooling over—Giselle. Hm. Cue the girlfriend. Sefira quickly regained her composure and broke the silence.

  “It’s fine. No harm, no foul. I um—here.” She handed the football back to him and he stood speechless, watching her as she turned and walked off. That was awkward.

  “He is so fine,” said Alaina, giggling.

  “What’s up with that girl?” asked Sefira.

  “Giselle? Hm. She’s a hot mess. You’ve got to watch out for her. She plays dirty.”

  They both glanced in Giselle’s direction and Sefira was surprised that she was still staring.

  “What’s her problem?” asked Sefira, looking away.

  Alaina sighed. “You. Unfortunately.”

  Jelly Beans

  Sefira closed her chemistry book, stuck it back in her bag and glanced at her watch. She had been sitting on the silver bleachers for the better part of an hour now, and her butt was beginning to hurt. Worse, it was hot. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “When on earth are they gonna call me?” she muttered.

  “Hannah G., you’re up.” One of the assistant coaches yelled across the field.

  She sighed. At this point, she just wanted to get the whole ordeal over with. Empty water bottle in hand, she made her way down the stadium steps to a water fountain for a refill. A few swigs later, she found a soft tuft of green grass on which to sit and watch the parade of track hopefuls try out for the track team.

  It was kind of weird going out for track in October. The season just ended in July. If anything, the cross-country team might be doing their thing, not sprinters. But this was the sort of dedication that set John A. Eisenhower High School apart from everywhere else. The head coach here was serious about practice, and from the look of things, it was paying off. The team was well known in Southern California, claiming several district championships over the years. It was one of her f
oster mom’s selling points for the move from Davis to Diamond Bar. What her mother failed to realize was that the school’s reputation for excellence only made Sefira anxious. After all, track was still fairly new to her. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t have run track at all if Celeste hadn’t insisted that she get involved in “something.” Everyone was surprised when it turned out that she was actually good at it. Well, at least she was back home. This was different—these kids were really good.

  Pulling her knees into her chest, she clasped her hands around them and watched a couple of runners take off. They looked fast—faster than her. She steadied her chin against her knee. Maybe this was a mistake. Another group of runners lined up and took off. They looked even faster than the last group. Her stomach began to flutter and as usual, her breaths became shorter. Please God, not now. If I have a panic attack in front of all these people, I’ll never live it down. What was it Dr. Leonard said to do? She closed her eyes and measured her breath, visualizing prior and future success. I’ve succeeded before. Won meets. Earned medals. I can do it again.

  Her breaths returned to normal and she could feel the butterflies drifting away. Good ole Dr. Leonard. Yet another person she’d miss from the Bay area. Besides her friend Zada, she was the only other person that really understood her. She thought about the last meeting they had. It hadn’t exactly ended the way she would’ve liked, but looking back, she could really see the progress she’d made.

  “How are you?” Dr. Casey Leonard flashed a smile as she pulled a file folder from the bottom drawer of her rather expensive looking mahogany desk and placed it in front of her. A pen twirled between her fingers as she sat slightly hunched, elbows on the table, head down.

  Sefira didn’t answer right away. This was her doctor’s segue question. The one she used to buy her more time to thumb through her case file. It wasn’t like she was insincere or anything. Sefira knew she cared. But really, why answer questions when her doctor was half-listening? Instead, she plopped down on the smooth black leather couch opposite her shrink and allowed her eyes to wander.

  Everything was tidy and composed as usual. The beige color scheme throughout the room was bright enough to be inviting, yet dark enough to evoke a certain coziness that went hand-in-hand with emptying your soul. Sefira supposed the doctor probably got a lot of mileage out of the atmosphere alone.

  A huge landscape portrait took center stage on the wall opposite her. Every time she came in she noticed some odd nuance on the painting that she hadn’t recognized before. Now she searched for these nuances at each meeting. It helped her to relax.

  Whatever was in Sefira’s case file must’ve been a real page-turner. She counted four whole minutes before she heard the familiar swishing sound of a closed file. Dr. Leonard was done. Two brown eyes peered over wire-rimmed glasses, and it occurred to Sefira that she looked kind of like a mole. A nice one, though. The doctor repositioned her glasses and sat back in her captain’s chair.

  “Tell me, what’s new?” she asked.

  “Same ole, same ole.”

  “I just saw your grades. You’re doing well, dearie—as usual.”

  “Yeah, guess so.”

  “Guess so? I’d kill to have had those grades when I was your age,” Dr. Leonard smiled. “So, what’s eating you?”

  “Nothing.” A long pause ensued.

  “I hear you’re moving?” asked Dr. Leonard as she brushed brown bangs from her face.

  “Yep. Diamond Bar, wherever that is.” Sefira pursed her lips.

  “I guess you’re not particularly excited.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Sefira gave her best impression of an ‘it’s fine’ face.

  “No it’s not,” the doctor said rather matter-of-factly. “You’ve moved a million times, you’ve had to make new friends, so on and so forth—that would take its toll on anyone.”

  Sefira averted her eyes.

  “Look,” said the doctor. “It’s okay to be tired. I don’t know if this will help—probably not, but I’m under the impression that Celeste doesn’t want to move either. It’s all circumstantial.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Really.”

  Dr. Leonard studied her. “You know, your back must really ache.” She scratched her chin.

  “Excuse me?”

  The doctor leaned forward. “You’ve been coming here for the better part of a year now, and yes, we’ve made progress, but you’re still bearing most of the weight alone. Sefira, you don’t have to do that. Let us do our job. Let us help you carry the load.”

  “Who’s ‘us’?”

  “The people that love and care for you. I’m not the only one, you know. There are a lot of us caring folk around. At some point, you’ve got to give people a chance.” Leaning back again, she continued. “I’m just saying, carrying all that weight alone—it must be killing you.”

  Another long pause ensued. Under normal circumstances, such a pause would have been awkward; not here. “It’s because of me.” Sefira finally looked the doctor squarely in the face.

  “What? What’s because of you?”

  “We’re leaving because of me. Rich left because he doesn’t like me. And now mom can’t stand being in the same town. She says she just wants to start over somewhere else.”

  “What makes you think Rich doesn’t like you?”

  Sefira chuckled. “He made it obvious from Day One that he was just putting up with me for mom’s sake. And really, who can blame him?” Sefira shifted in her seat, sighing. “I don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I think you know why. You’re just too kind to say it.” She leaned forward placing her elbows on her knees. “I’m the daughter of a homicidal maniac. That’s a little unnerving wouldn’t you say? I mean--there’s the whole guilt by association thing. The guy slept with one eye open, and who could blame him?” She shook her head. “That’s no way for anybody to live…It won’t be long before—”

  “Before what?”

  Sefira didn’t answer, she simply sat back in her chair, rubbing her chin.

  “Before your mom figures out you’re a liability and drops you like a hot potato? Does that pretty much sum it up?”

  Sefira looked away. This was not the road she’d intended to take today.

  “Look—I have abandonment issues. I know. But how can you blame me? I just don’t want my baggage to screw things up.”

  “Baggage? Sefira, you’re not trying out for a role in the family. The track, the grades—all of that is great, but that’s not why Celeste is keeping you. She’s keeping you because she loves you. If Rich wants to leave, that’s his problem. It’s got nothing to do with you. Try-outs are over.”

  Sefira pursed her lips. “Try-outs are never over,” she said. A moment passed. “Okay, so I have a question for you. It doesn’t have anything to do with what we’re talking about, though.”

  “Shoot.”

  Sefira cleared her throat and wiped her perspiring hands against her jeans. “Well, we both know that Delilah has a certain…psychosis. I guess my question is—do you think….” She bit her lip.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think that we might share that psychosis?”

  “In other words, you’re asking me if I think her mental health issues are hereditary?

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” The doctor removed her glasses from her face and walked in front of her desk, allowing her backside to rest against it. “You know that I would never give you anything less than my professional opinion, right?”

  “Yeah.” Her stomach was doing somersaults now.

  “Sefira, there is absolutely nothing to indicate to me that you suffer or may suffer, in the future, from any sort of mental condition. I know we’re still working on some things, but trust me, you’re going to be okay.”

  Sefira nodded, looking her in the eye. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Absolutely.” She sounded confident which made Sefira feel a whole lot better. “You
do, however, have some bad habits we’re trying to take care of.” She glanced at Sefira’s arms. “I noticed you wore long sleeves today. Mind if I take a look at your arms?”

  “I’m not cutting.”

  The doctor just looked at her, so she rolled up her sleeves and put her forearms on display.

  “See?”

  “Good. You’re healing up nicely too.”

  Sefira pursed her lips, nodding.

  A wave of perfume hit Sefira’s nose as Dr. Leonard grabbed a container from her desk and thrust it in her face. “Jelly beans?”

  It was getting late, and Coach still had not called her name. A small growl resulted from her grumbling stomach as shifting winds reminded her that it was dinnertime for the working-class.

  Darned St. Augustine. She sneezed and scratched the itchy skin underneath her thighs and calves, removing some of the blades of grass digging into them.

  The longer she sat, the more her anxiety began to build. She decided to concentrate on mindless things like the current state of her ashen legs. Looking at them, she decided that they’d seen better days. It was no secret that she’d had her fair share of falling off bikes and out of trees. As much as Delilah tried, she couldn’t drive all of the adventure out of her. Her legs weren’t all bad, though. A matter of fact, she thought they were amongst her most attractive features—long and just muscular enough to escape the “manly” look. Right up there with her skin, which was a deep coffee-brown and even all over.

  The track coach barked. “Carrington, you’re up,” Grass squished beneath the coach’s feet as he strolled over in Sefira’s direction. Finally.

  Sefira lifted her svelte body off the ground in one swift movement.

  It was almost comical hearing a heavy voice boom from such a petite man. Apparently, he had bellowed one too many times, because his “outdoor voice” sounded permanently hoarse. “I want you to show me what you’re made of on the straight-away. We are in desperate need of someone who can hang in the 4 by 100, and from what I hear, you may be just the somebody we need. So, let’s see whatcha got.” He clapped his hairy hands together.