Who Am I Without Him? Read online

  Why you care? U want him to call you or something?

  Dear Jaquel—

  Boys don’t know nothing about girls!!!

  Hey, Devita Mae.

  Then girls should only date girls. That way they will always get what they want, and not have to explain stuff so much . . . and not bother boys and try to make us act like girls.

  Jaquel:

  Here is what I’m thinking. Sometimes we can write long letters, other times we will keep it real short. Anyhow, guess what? I saw a girl on the bus the other day. This guy was staring at her, and told her she was cute. She licked her lips and said thanks. Then she went over to him and like five minutes later they was kissing— hard wet kisses. People on the bus kept staring ’cause they knew she just met him. I was like, girl you are nasty. Then my friend said, he’s nasty too, kissing a girl he don’t even know. What makes a guy do that? I mean, what makes him want a girl like that?

  Was she pretty?

  Dear J:

  She was pretty.

  Was she stacked, Devita Mae? Top and bottom?

  Yeah.

  Devita Mae:

  There’s your answer. A cute girl you just met lets you kiss her—man that’s living!!!

  A nasty cute girl lets you kiss her. She might have a disease. She might do that with every boy.

  Devita Mae:

  I wouldn’t care if she did it with every boy, as long as she did it with me. Anyhow, who’s gonna turn down free candy?

  Dear Jaquel:

  You are nasty, too.

  Devita Mae:

  All boys is nasty!!!!

  Nov. 15

  Dear Jaquel Dickson—

  My eyes are real.

  What about your hair? In the bathroom we bet sometimes. I bet that your eyes were fake, but your hair was real. My boy Reggie said it wasn’t true ’cause your hair is too long to be real.

  Why are you and your boys talking about me in the boys’ room, anyhow?

  ’Cause when you are taking a leak, Devita Mae, you have to talk about something. Ain’t you sick of writing, Devita Mae? I am. So I made up my own rule. I will not write to you for the rest of this week. I will text-message this girl I met in Chicago last summer. See ya.

  Nov. 18

  Dear Diary:

  The girl in Chicago is named La Donna. I hear she is cute. I hear she is smart, and that she’s got Jaquel wrapped around her little finger. My friend Florence talked to Jaquel’s friend Michael and he told her about La Donna. Florence didn’t say it was me asking the questions. Good news though. Michael did say that La Donna broke off with Jaquel three times last month. Maybe she will dump him again, real soon. Or maybe I will just steal him away from her. I am cute, you know.

  Nov. 19

  Dear Jaquel:

  Your boy Earle called Marlina. He talked for two hours. Could you talk to a girl for that long?

  No!

  You never had a girlfriend, huh, Jaquel?

  Plenty!!! Got one right now. And any girls that call me talk quick! But you’re not that kind of girl. I see you in school—can’t shut up, like most girls.

  Yo, Jaquel.

  How come you checking me out?

  I gotta watch u. You sit across from me in class. Duh! Besides, dudes always gotta be looking. You never know when you need a replacement girl.

  A replacement girl? You make her sound like an extra pencil. I would hate to be your girlfriend.

  You would love to be my girlfriend, Devita Mae. Every girl wish she was mine.

  Watch out, Jaquel. That big thing floating around the room is your head; too much hot air made it pop off and fly away.

  Nov. 29

  Devita Mae:

  How come you missed school yesterday? Dominique wanted to see our composition book. I didn’t have nothing to show because you take it with you every time. I’m not complaining. I don’t wanna carry that thing around. But it got me to thinking. If I was at war, would I be writing letters all the time? I’m saying this because my cousin wrote my mother recently. He is overseas. He told her he writes his mother every day, and he writes his girlfriend twice a day. He’s a hard core dude. . . . Would kill you if you looked at him crooked. I told my dad the war made him soft as butter, writing all them letters, crying ’bout how hard it is over there. My father said, let’s see what happens if you go to war. He told me I would be writing so many letters my fingertips would start to crack. “War scares the words right outta you,” he told me. I got to thinking about the letters we write here. Guess my cousin wouldn’t complain none, if all he had to do is sit in class writing to some girl. Beats getting shot at, I guess.

  Hey, Jaquel.

  I think it’s romantic, him writing his girlfriend twice a day. Think about it. He’s at war and all he’s got to do is think and dream about her. I bet he kisses her picture every night before he goes to bed. I bet he talks to it and carries it in his pocket while he’s fighting the enemy. I want a guy like that.

  Devita Mae:

  You watch too many movies!!!

  Dec. 3

  Dear Jaquel—

  Thank you for telling me about your family. Now I will tell you about mine. I am the oldest. Know what that means? I do all of the work, and get all of the blame. At home I watch movies a lot . . . read a bunch too. My mom and dad both work at the same job and do all the same things together, like cooking, gardening, and roller skating. When I grow up, that’s what I want—someone I can do everything with.

  Hey you:

  I am tired today so I am not gonna write all that much. My mom and dad have been married for 15 years. Know what that means? I was born before they got the marriage license, ha, ha. I want a pretty wife. My dad says I better want more than that. But he’s old, so what else is he gonna say? But I do want a wife who is a good mother. And I do want lots of kids and I don’t want her to work. My mom never worked. I liked coming home from school and smelling cookies and snapping string beans with her. You remind me of my mother, kinda.

  Dear Jaquel:

  You asked me a long time ago and I didn’t answer. So here goes. This is my real hair.

  I knew it! My boy Reggie owes me five bucks.

  Jaquel—

  This is my real hair. I got more real hair in my bottom drawer at home. I never buy the cheap stuff; it itches. Ha! Ha! Pay Reggie what you owe him.

  That’s jive. See, boys don’t know if a girl is real, plastic, or made out of wood. Why I want to spend four hours talking on the phone to a girl with fake eyes, fake nails, fake hair, and a fake chest?

  Blame boys. If a girl is just her own plain self, you all don’t give her any play.

  Devita Mae Girl:

  You gotta look good for me.

  Dear Jaquel—

  R u cute?

  U know it. Do you think I’m cute?

  You know it. What about me? You like what you see?

  Yeah. I like what I see.

  Hey J—

  Do boys have fake parts?

  No! But we fake it sometimes.

  Hmmm. How?

  If we like you, we act like we don’t. If we want to call you, we play it cool and wait a few days before we do. And if we don’t like you all that much, but like how you look, we fake it—go out with you anyhow until we get you to do like we want.

  Jaquel:

  Don’t take this the wrong way, but you and me . . . we would make pretty babies.

  Devita Mae Calloway:

  Don’t mention no babies to me! I got things to do once I graduate . . . like party in college and go to grad school for my Master’s in business and open 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 secret.

  Forget it. I was joking anyhow.

  Dear Jaquel:

  My girls were teasing me yesterday. Saying me and you should be together ’cause of the way you look at me, and how you wiped the mayonnaise off my bottom lip with your finger at lunch. Not even caring if I had germs or not.

  Tell your friends to mind their business.

  Jaquel:

  You still with that girl?

  She is hot, so yeah, I am still with her.

  Dear Jaquel:

  Why would you want an out-of-town girl? Why not one right here?

  Maybe I do have one right here, Devita Mae. Maybe I got two girls, six. When you cute like me, chicks be giving you their numbers all the time.

  You are stupid. Insensitive, too. Don’t write me no more today.

  Feb. 8

  Dear Diary:

  Today I got on the phone and called Jaquel. I got his phone number from his friend. Him and me talked for half an hour. It woulda been longer but a book I read said a woman should always get off the phone first when she is just trying to get to know a man. My mother gave me the book. She said me chasing Jaquel wasn’t making him mine no faster, so maybe I needed to do something different. Now the book didn’t say to call a boy first. In fact, it said never call first. It gives him a big head. But, well, once I got the number I had to use it, right? But I did good, I think. I got off when I wanted to keep talking. That’s something.

  Feb. 20

  Dear Diary:

  Jaquel dumped his girlfriend. Not for me though. He did it ’cause she was always out when he called, and she never phoned him back. I am glad she is gone. Now he will need a junior firemen’s ball date. Guess who that’s gonna be? Meeeeeee!

  Feb. 28

  Dear Diary:

  I figured something out. Every night I talk to Jaquel, only I call him. He never calls me. So this week, I waited for him to hit me up first. It was hard, ’cause I kept picking up the phone, wanting to make that call. My mother kept saying that boys don’t like easy. “Make him work to get you. Act like you don’t care.” That’s how she got my dad, she said. So I am here waiting for that boy to miss me. But I’m thinking, missing me might take him a really long time.

  March 11

  Hey, Devita Mae.

  Your phone broke? You can’t call a dude? I started to call you last night. But, well, something good came on TV and I watched it. Then my girlfriend called and, well, anyhow, I almost called you.

  You stupid, Jaquel?

  Why do I want to hear about her? Why were you gonna call me in the first place? To talk about her? Do me a favor. Do not mention her name to me. Do not mention that you have a girl, period!

  Devita Mae:

  Is it that time of the month? I bet it is. Otherwise, why you going off on me for no good reason? I don’t get you sometimes.

  Listen. I am your writing partner, that’s it. So don’t be asking me about my perfume or talking about me in the boys’ room or staring at my eyes. And you know what? I heard Chicago dumped you anyhow.

  D:

  Don’t think we turning this part in to Dominique, ’cause we ain’t. Anyhow, you were the one calling me, remember? And check this out—I don’t get dumped. I dump. I got it like that.

  J—

  You take the book and keep it since you want to be like that.

  Mar. 20

  Devita Mae:

  You are immature, not writing me like you supposed to and not talking to me when I step up to you in the hall, at lunch or in class. I ain’t worried. If I was, I woulda wrote you before now. But what did I do? Played games on my cell. I’m just writing you because Dominique told me she’d take my cell if I didn’t do what I’m supposed to. Hey. My cousin is coming home. He’s on leave. Gonna get married. I’m thinking, would he do that if he wasn’t in a war getting shot at? My mom asked me a stupid question last week. “That girl you write to in class. When you gonna bring her home for me to meet?” My mom likes to get in my business,
so I ain’t answer her.

  Mar. 28

  Devita Mae:

  You better stop playing around, girl, ’cause you about to not have no partner at all. And why ain’t you call me back when I called your place? Your dad answered the phone. Didn’t he tell you? And tell him for me, that the next time I call, don’t ask me all them questions. It makes me not want to ring you up no more.

  April 4

  All right, girl:

  You think I’m gonna beg you. Forget it. I got me a new partner. Sharinda. She’s ready to step in and take your spot, come Monday. You know what that means? You got four days to get yourself straight. After that: forget you.

  April 8

  Hey, Jaquel. My dad is like that. If a boy calls my house, he tells them they gonna get shot if they don’t leave me like they found me when they first met me. He didn’t tell you that, so maybe you sound like you can be trusted. Thanks for calling. I liked talking to you. So your mom is still asking you to bring me over? I’ll go. But I understand why you don’t want me to come. And I understand why you would be mad that she hangs up on that Chicago girl and talks bad about her. It seems to me, you can do better. But I ain’t no boy. And I ain’t you, so, well, thanks anyhow for inviting me to come, even though you ain’t sure you want me to. I think I will say no, though. Too many things to do.

  April 10

  Dear Jaquel:

  I saw a show the other day. A man wrote love letters to a woman in another country for two years without getting one back. He didn’t know if she was alive or dead. But he kept writing. I never got a love letter before. Girls like those.

  Dear Devita Mae:

  Y u telling me this? I ain’t your boyfriend. Get him to write you a love letter. Bad enough I have to write u at all. Well not u, but bad enough I have to do this assignment. I hate this. Guys hate to write.

  Dear Jaquel— You suck!

  Do you always have to have your way, Devita Mae? I would never write a love letter to a girl. But if I ever did, I would have to tell her to burn them after she read them. Boys don’t want things like that getting around.