Let Me Hear a Rhyme by Tiffany D. Jackson

Author:Tiffany D. Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

26

Quadir

Cab to the movies at Linden Boulevard Multiplex (because she can’t stand the train) = $13. One way.

Two adult tickets to the seven-thirty show = $11.

One large popcorn, a large Coke, nachos with cheese, and Twizzlers for her plus one large Coke for myself = $18.

In total, $42, just to take Ronnie to the damn movies.

“Oh my God! That was bananas!” Ronnie says, as we head out the doors of the theater, holding hands. “The way they rolled into that club, them black lights, homegirl singing ‘However do you want it!’ So sick!”

We’d been planning for months to see Hype Williams’s first feature film, Belly, starring Nas and DMX. The whole hood been talking about going on opening day, and Ronnie couldn’t miss out on being the first. She had a rep to keep or whatever. So regardless of the deadline Pierce threw at us, I couldn’t cancel my date with Ronnie. I would’ve never heard the end of it.

“Oh, and my girl Kisha? She was mad fly. Did you see that house Tommy had her up in?”

The movie had everybody in it. Method Man, T-Boz, that fine chick from A Bronx Tale, Taral Hicks, and a bunch of Jamaicans. Jarrell is gonna be real happy about that. Hopefully he’s not still pissed about me ghosting on him at the studio to, as he puts it, “see some chick.”

Ronnie’s looking real cute, though. Crop powder-blue sweater, tight Guess jeans, and purple Reeboks. She went to the nail salon after school yesterday and I paid extra for the ladies to spray-paint little dragon designs on her nails.

“That Tommy, he’s, like, a real man, you know?” Ronnie smirks, snuggling up on my arm. “Taking care of his shorty like that. Buying her anything she wants. That’s the type of man I could love for the rest of my life.”

I don’t say nothing. The whole time I’m trying to pretend I don’t hear them thoughts creeping in the back of my head, how I had more fun just chilling on the boardwalk with Jasmine. Even thinking about Jasmine right now seems foul.

“Hey,” she says, all sweet, tilting my chin down toward her. “What’s up with you? You real quiet. You didn’t like the movie or something?”

“Um, nothing. It’s just . . . cold.” I zip up my jacket, trying to tune back in, but my mind keeps spinning between Jasmine, Pierce, Steph, and the movie. The whole time, all Nas’s character wanted to do was bounce to Africa and start a new life. Maybe it ain’t such a bad move, leaving home, starting over fresh.

“Well, anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Uh-oh.

“Soooo, I saw this jacket at Kings Plaza. And I’m really feeling it. I mean, no other girl is gonna have it. I swear, I had them put it on layaway for me. All you gotta do . . . is pick it up.”

“Pick it up?”

“Yeah. I was hoping . . . you would cop it for me.”

I groan loud enough for the concession stand to hear as we walk outside.

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