How rude.
I forgot to introduce myself.
My name is Evetta Chambers. I'm black, proud, and loud. I love the color blue and I'm 5'2. I love the Lord and I'm an honest person. Laughter is key. Love is good. Sex is better. Boris Kodjoe is a god and chocolate is both my enemy and my bestestestest friend ever.
Yes, that about sums me up. Now, more on the love thing. . .
Okay, so I'm not one of those bitter ass people who think that love doesn't exist. I'm not a boo-lover hater. I'm not one of those people who think that hand holding is gag-worthy or any of that shit.
I'm not one of those fluffy, Georgy Clooney loving freaks either. I don't dream about my prince charming and I didn't have my wedding day mapped out and ready since I was six years old.
I was just one of those few people who took love for what it was - rare. I didn't expect it to happen to me. I was actually comforted by the thought of just coasting around until I found a guy that was fine enough and sweet enough for me to satisfied for a while and get laid while I was at it. I don't mean anything slutty, so don't get it twisted. I just met that love would be simple for me and not earth shattering.
My mom was never a love person. In fact, she hated men as far as I knew. She wasn't a raging feminist, but she was angry as hell. Who's to blame? Well, that's lucky Mr. Sperm Donor himself, also known as my father.
They were together for a while until he decided that cigarrettes and beer were more important and she kicked him out, consequently screwing herself over. She became the single parent of three girls who practically hated each other (and still do) so she had to work three times as hard and never love again.
I didn't know much growing up, but I knew I didn't want to be her. No offense to my mama (bless her soul), but the workload would've been a lot less if someone else was around. The bills would've been paid faster. Getting my way would've been easier. Life would've just been easier in general.
That's all I really wanted; an easier life.
I wasn't eating out of dumster or anything dramatic, but life was just so. . . boring. Yes, boring. Things seemed to drag on and on and everything was so routine. There was no difference. It was all females and nothing else. Every time a man stepped into our house, we'd crawl back like a bunch of hermits and not speak.
It was embarrassing and weird, to say the least, so when I got to high school, I finally said - enough is enough. I clung to the male population in my school like white on rice. Females were around, but I became one of the guys because. . . it was nice. The hugs were better. The talks were more carefree.
It drove my mother crazy. She thought that if I spoke two words to a boy I was going to end up pregnant. She couldn't just get it through her head that I just enjoyed their presence and nothing else. Sure, some of them were nice to look at, but dating was out the question. None of them were interested and neither was I.
Until Justin.
I met him on a Wednesday my Junior year of high school. He stepped in my Honors Physics class in khakis and a baby blue polo shit, nicely pressed. His hair was a ginormous fro that I hated and his ear was pierced - a diamond stud gleaming in the light of the room.
I swore that every female woke up and sighed accordingly when he stood in front of the class and asked. "Are you Dr. Hooten?"
Dr. Hooten was a short red-haired woman with glasses and a voice that could shatter glass, but I liked her. She couldn't teach worth a damn, but she was fun to look at. Awkward really. Did weird things with her eyes.
She had confirmed who she was and appointed Justin to a seat two rows away from mine. He glanced over at me and smirked. I smiled back a little before I realized he was really look at our neighborhood Paris Hilton a.k.a. Lindsay McDonnell.
I didn't hold it against him. I just made a note in my mind that he was cute and new and had a thing for blonds before completely shutting him out and focusing on Hooten's twitching eye.
See. No fireworks. No orgasm. No anything. Just a stupid moment in class that was like any other moment.
Lunch was a different story.
This time it was Friday. Pizza was being served and I was dying to get my hands on the last extra-cheese slice they had. I was in line with Jim, Marty, and Michael, laughing and cracking jokes on Mr. B, our history teacher. Justin was in front of me and I looked him over. He was dressed up in a plain t-shirt and jeans outfit, hair still fro-ed and ear still gleaming.
Nothing spectacular once again.
Michael was just about to show me his new skateboarding scar when I heard the words I didn't want to hear.
"Uh. . . could I get that slice of extra cheese?" The boy had lost him mind and apparently so had I.
"Oh, come on!" I whined, "I wanted that." Justin took the plate anyway and turned to face me, looking me over quickly.
"You'll live." Like I said before, I accepted myself. I was fat and I knew it as well as anyone around me, but, like all flaws, being fat always seemed to stand out more when people said stuff like that and gave me a look. It's not like I particularly care. It was more of a natural response to things. Like how you might feel if you walk by a group of people and then hear giggles behind your back.
"What the fuck did you say?" Marty questioned, stepping up to Justin. He had a temper, to say the least, and stood at 6'4. Did I mention he was a football player as well?
"Nothing," Justin smiled, "I'm just saying she's not gonna die without this piece of pizza."
"It's cool, Marty," I interjected, "There's plenty of pepperoni."
"Yeah, Marty," Justin repeated, "Plenty of pepperoni."
"You better watch yourself," Marty warned. Justin walked away and we went back to talking. Another advantage of guy friends was protection. Even when you didn't need it.
By the end of my English class, I had felt terrible. I was so hungry for extra cheese that I nearly got Justin beat up. Yes, I'm sure Marty would've handled his skinny ass with no problem. If not, there were about three or four other guys around willing to help him out. So. . . I felt bad. I don't care about a lot of things, but people's feelings are a different story.
Hooten's class soon rolled around and I was standing by the door, talking with Leslie and Michelle before class. They both had English right across the hall so this was a daily ritual for us.
As we gabbed, kids walked in and out of class, getting that last minute drink of water or notebook from their lockers. Justin hadn't shown up yet, but I spotted him up the hall a little ways up. I kept my conversation going until he was right in front of us, trying to get by.
"Justin," I called. He paused and looked at me. "Sorry about lunch. Marty's crazy." I laughed, trying to make the conversation as light as possible.
"It's cool," he said, "Sorry for taking your slice." I smirked and felt a bit embarrassed.
"It was just pizza," I said, more to myself than him, "It was really stupid."
"I wouldn't have gotten it if I knew it would've cost me my ass," he chuckled.
I cringed. "I'm really sorry."
"It's alright, really." He smiled. "I'll see you in class then." He made his way inside and Leslie and Michelle exchanged looks.
"Shut up," I said before they could start. Those two were hell bent on finding a guy in this school that I would admit to liking. Any conversation I had with the opposite sex is always closely examined.
"I think we have a winner." Michelle laughed and Leslie soon joined her. I just stared at them and walked into class just as the bell rung.
Class that day was quite entertaining and this time, it wasn't Hooten's faces that got me going; it was Justin's.
It started off as me taking a glance to right and spotting him squinting at the board, most likely trying to decipher Hooten's drawings and handwriting. I snickered and turned away before finding myself looking right back in his direction. The kid was hilarious. Confusion was always funny, but his expressions were humorous beyond compare.
I found myself surpressing my laughter to the point where I couldn't hold it any longer. I giggled, right when Hooten made a comment about being allergic to chalk.
"Is that funny to you Miss. Chambers?" I shook my head.
"No ma'am." I glanced over at Justin and he smiled at me, shaking his head.
"Then stop snickering." I nodded and smiled as she continued to go over the notes. Class ended and I was making my way over to the bathroom when I felt a tap on my arm.
"You almost got in trouble," Justin said. I forgot about the bathroom and continued to walk with him up the hall.
"She'll get over it," I stated.
"Why were you laughing at her?" he smiled, "Allergies aren't funny."
"Says the guy who's grinning at me now while saying that." We laughed. "I was actually laughing at you."
"Me?" he asked, "Why?"
"Your face, man." He stopped walking and gave me a bored look.
"That's not cool."
"Oh, no, that's not what I meant," I giggled. "You were making faces the whole time Hooten was talking. It was hilarious. You were killing me in there."
"Oh," he chuckled, "Really?"
"Yeah, especially when she was going over the graphs." I laughed at the memory and Justin joined me.
"I was confused," he sighed, "I feel so dumb in there."
"Don't worry, you're not the only one."
"Really?" he asked. "Everybody looks so smart."
"Looks can be very deceiving."
"Very true." He stopped in front of a locker that I assumed was his and I watched for a moment before remembering I had my own locker and my own friends waiting for me upstairs.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," I said, walking towards the J steps.
"Yeah, alright." We waved and I was on my way.
That was my first conversation with Justin. Fun and simple.
Just the way I like it.
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