The Fight by L. Divine Page B

cats on the court to “b-ball school.” Yeah, they schooled everybody they played with, just like Shaq and Kobe, or Iverson.
    Anyway, one day right before the end of last year, KJ decided to tell my home girl, Misty, he liked me. Well, he actually said he wanted to know more about me and why I don’t hang out in South Central. Misty, the little traitor that she is, told KJ I have identity issues, and that I’m all mixed up because I hang out with the White cats, the Puerto Rican cats, the Samoan cats, the Mexican cats, and anybody else I feel like hangin’ with. Basically, Misty is the one with identity issues because yes, she’s half Puerto Rican herself but tries to front like she’s not. I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s such a hater.
    But like I was saying, KJ was digging me, and I knew it, but I also knew he was dating this senior named Maisha, and she was known for being this tough broad who would whip anyone who crossed her, including KJ. So, I wasn’t about to entertain the thought of talking to him, not then anyway. But it turned out he and I went to summer school together. He was taking some math classes and going to basketball camp. I was taking an extra A.P. English course I needed for the fall. Well, to make a not-so-long story even shorter, we started dating.
    C Money and two other Compton brothas usually rode to school with KJ. Well, when KJ and I started dating, he would pick me up in the morning too. So, there we were, four brothas and me, rolling in KJ’s little ride listening to Usher. I was in love.
    I used to watch him ball, and he was just so very fine. He was sweet, cute, romantic, everything a first heartbreak is supposed to be, right? To top it all off, Mama even liked him, and his parents liked me. I thought I was in heaven.
    Well, the hell started when Maisha came back from Loyola Marymount. Apparently, her tough self got kicked out of college for talking back to her coach one too many times. So, she came back to Compton and naturally wanted KJ back. At first, she said she wanted him back as a basketball partner ’cause she played too. Whatever. She can have him because I’m through.
    Back to Trecee, who wants to jump me over this same punk. She’s off her rocker. Straight-up crazy. Lunatic, over this fool. She wants me to understand that KJ is her man. I say fine, understood, but me being the smart-ass that I am I ask her, in front of everyone, if Maisha knows this or what. That pisses her off even more.
    Well, it goes down like this: Trecee wants to fight me right here on the first day of school, in front of all these people and with me in my new clothes. She must be crazier than I think. I’m wondering what to do. But then I spot a mutual friend of ours, Jason—an ex-con who’s a little too old to be in the eleventh grade—coming down the main hall to stop Trecee before she even starts. He fights his way through the crowd that has gathered and grabs Trecee’s arm.
    â€œLet go of me, Jason. I need to teach this girl a lesson,” Trecee says, struggling with Jason’s grip. Her friend tries to help Trecee break free, but Jason’s too strong for them.
    â€œCome on, Trecee. Let’s get your ass calm before you go to class,” Jason says, leading Trecee back down the hall toward the courtyard.
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about, Trecee?” I yell to her back. “I ain’t got no beef with you,” I say, trying to reason with her. Whatever her response is gets swallowed up by the space between us, but I think it’s something like, “Don’t think this is over, Jayd. We’ll have it out about you and my man.”
    My girls, Nellie and Mickey, are walking up the hall now.
    They practically start running when they see me. The crowd of kids part to let them through.
    â€œHey, girl, what’s going on?” Mickey asks.
    â€œNothing I can’t handle,” I