Game On by Calvin Slater Page A

King?”
    Samantha chuckled. She said to Tracy, “No, you didn’t go there!”
    Jennifer popped her lips and rolled her eyes at Tracy. “Girl, please. Derek King is yesterday’s news. But some other people—I won’t mention Tracy McIntyre’s name—still sniffing like a bloodhound behind Michael Brenner after he sweet-talked her out of seventy bucks and bought that girl Jewel he shares lockers with some Nike sneakers.”
    Samantha was cracking up. “Tracy, no, she didn’t put your business out there in the street.”
    â€œI don’t like that boy no more,” Tracy protested heatedly. “Besides, he told me that was his godsister.”
    Jennifer said, “I could tell by the way Michael was making out with her down in the south lobby the other day.” She sipped a little of her soda. “But I ain’t even mad at him. You let him get away with it—on the third floor all hugged up with him yesterday.”
    â€œSince you’re putting me on blast,” Tracy answered back, “Mr. Yesterday’s News is all around the school, kissing and telling. Like I want to know about how big your granny panties were the night y’all smashed.”
    Samantha was laughing so hard that tears formed in her eyes.
    Jennifer’s light skin turned crimson from embarrassment. “Uh-uh—Derek is a stone-cold liar. I didn’t give him none .”
    â€œOkay, let’s recap,” Samantha said to her friends, wiping away the water. She pointed to Tracy. “You got swindled out of seventy bucks and now some chick is probably smiling anytime she sees you around the school.” She smiled at Jennifer. “And you, my dear—granny panties, I’m not trying to go there with you. You guys are pathetic.”
    Tracy and Jennifer gave each other puzzled looks. And then they stared back at Samantha.
    Tracy was the first to respond. “Gurl, you got yo’ nerves.”
    Jennifer picked up where Tracy left off. “Got a rich, fine ball-playing brotha chasing you around town like a little puppy dog, but all you can think about is Xavier.”
    â€œ ‘Fine’ ain’t the word, Jen,” Tracy weighed in. “That dude is a muscle-bound god wearing baseball cleats. And you just told us he copped a phat crib off the lake, and pushing a Phantom—what are you waiting on? I hope it ain’t Xavier Hunter?”
    Tracy’s question dried up any trace of a smile on Samantha’s face.
    Samantha said, “Tracy, now you’re starting to sound like my dad.”
    â€œThat’s right. Your old man is holding bank. That’s the reason you’re not impressed by Desmond’s ballin’ lifestyle, huh, Miss Beverly Hills,” Tracy said, smirking sarcastically.
    Samantha corrected, “FYI, I live in Birmingham, Michigan.”
    â€œBeverly Hills, Birmingham, Greenfield Village, Ellis Island—”
    Samantha smiled and said, “You do realize the last two you mentioned aren’t affluent cities, right?”
    â€œMy point is do you understand what you have in Sean is a dream to girls like me and Jennifer?” Tracy explained, sounding a little bit more like she was jealous.
    Samantha made it clear. “Tracy, I have my own dreams, like dancing—I wanna make my own mark in this world with my talent. I don’t need Sean Desmond or his money to become a successful woman.”
    â€œI’m just saying, Sam, any other girl would love to flex in that car, get invited to all the slamming parties that those athletes be throwing in those huge mansions,” Tracy argued.
    Seeing that their happy conversation was headed in a different direction, Jennifer said to Tracy, “Why don’t you leave Sam alone?”
    â€œJen, I’m just saying that she’s gonna mess around and miss out on a good thing by still being hung up on that good-for-nothing thug rat Xavier,”