Black Beauty Page 2

  "I've treated you with nothing but respect since I've known you."

  "I've had a horrible day with everyone teasing me at school. I get here and have to deal with it from you, too. Forget you. I'm leaving." She turned from him and bent over to pick up her books.

  "Are you crying?"

  She brought her hand up to her face, it came back wet. Why was she crying in front of him? Wasn't the fake weed supposed to give her courage?

  "Don't go. I'm sorry."

  She was so busy wiping away her tears that she didn't fight it when he grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto the couch. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

  She let him hold her as she cried. Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was the fake weed, or maybe it was her loneliness, but whatever the reason she didn't stop him when he brought his lips down onto hers.

  His sweaty hands on her breast brought her back to reality. He wasn't who she wanted. "No, Jason." She pulled back. "I have to go."

  "Don't go," he pleaded, with his hand still under her shirt.

  Somehow they'd ended up on the couch with him on top and straddled between her legs.

  "No." She tried to move from under him.

  He loomed above her, flushed despite his dark skin. "Do you like it rough? Is that what it is?"

  "No. This isn't what I came here for." When pushing didn't move him, Shemeya punched his shoulders and chest, but he refused to budge.

  He kissed her neck. "I'm tired of being the nice guy," he whispered in her ear, pinning her further beneath his body.

  "Get off me!" she screamed. His erection rubbed against the crotch of her jeans. She punched at his back and, but it only made him more excited. Her scalp itched as she fought. She wanted to scratch it, but she needed both hands to fight Jason. I'm getting raped, but I can't resist the urge to scratch. The inconvenience of it almost made her laugh.

  Something above moved. She looked past Jason. Five snakes hovered above his head.

  "I'm going crazy," she thought. This time she did laugh, and the snakes, which were the same rusty brown color as her dreads, returned her smile.

  The itching had been replaced with pleasurable tingles that ran from her head down to her toes.

  He must have sensed a change, because Jason paused and looked towards her. "Why are you laughing?" His gaze darted above her head. The feel of his erection disappeared as he moved away, but she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  "Where are you going?" Shemeya asked.

  "We need to leave," he said, trembling. "There are snakes in here. There are snakes in your hair." She pulled him closer while he fought to be released. "Let go. We need to get out of here!"

  "No, stay," she whispered in his ear. "They won't hurt you."

  Shaking and wide-eyed, he looked from Shemeya to the snakes. He tried to move away. This time when she attempted to pull him closer, he punched her. Pain exploded in her jaw, but she didn't let go.

  "Jason, that hurt."

  He looked into her eyes. "Please," he begged just as a snake sunk its fangs into his cheek. Another struck his ear. One clung to his nose. And another hung below his left eye. He screamed and writhed in pain as he tried to escape the snakes and Shemeya's thighs. His pleading dark-brown eyes focused on her before finally, he stopped moving altogether. The snakes retracted their fangs. She relaxed her legs. And Jason fell onto the carpeted floor.

  She stood and nearly fainted before she righted herself by grabbing the side of the couch. She brought her hands up to fix her hair but hesitated a few inches away. She'd never touched snakes before. But the snakes came to her, caressing her open palm. They were cold, smooth, and full of life.

  The next day, Shemeya stared in the bathroom mirror at a large, imposing bruise on her jaw. The blue and purple mark contrasted sharply with her brown skin. While trying to ignore the pain, she brushed her teeth. She had no idea how she got home yesterday. All she remembered was fighting off Jason and having some type of hallucination about snakes. No, the herb didn't get her high, but it sure as hell made her delusional.

  Shemeya covered her bruised jaw with foundation before she braided her dreads in an intricate twist that fell down her back. I look good, she thought as she admired herself in the mirror.

  Her mom popped her head into the bathroom. "I'm passing your school on the way to a patient's house, you want a ride?"

  "Yes!" Shemeya exclaimed, relieved she wouldn't have to see Jason or Latreece on either bus.

  "Hurry up. I'm leaving in five minutes."

  Shemeya appreciated herself in the mirror one last time before she walked out.

  As she pulled in front of the school, Mary turned in her seat, "I want to talk to you." Her usual confidence wavered a bit, which told Shemeya she wouldn't like what her mother was about to say.

  "What's wrong?" Shemeya asked.

  "I've been hearing stories about Jade messing in voodoo, witchcraft, and miracle cures. I don't know what's going on, but I don't want you going near her."

  Too late for that. Shemeya thought. "She's crazy, but Coal is pretty normal."

  "Stay away from Jade," her mom reiterated, "and Coal."

  Shemeya lifted an eyebrow and let out a deep breath. "Okay." That wouldn't be a problem after she had me smoke those crazy herbs.

  "Well, good," Mary said, sounding as if she had been expecting a bigger fight.

  "By the way, you look pretty," Mary said as Shemeya opened her car door and stepped out. "Those dreads are looking nice."

  Shemeya furrowed her brow and touched her hair. No snakes. "Thank you."

  "Maybe I'll grow me some. I'm tired of messin' with those damn relaxers."

  As Mary drove away, Shemeya stood in front of the school gaping. Her mother had never complimented her dreads. Never.

  Shemeya sat in her third-hour chemistry class, pretending to study the course notes from yesterday. No one had pushed, groped, or called her names. Her mother, who had never approved of her hair, had even given her a compliment. She'd been taught dreads were unnatural and dirty. But once started, they naturally locked on their own. And, unlike when she had a relaxer, she could wash them as much as she wanted without messing it up.

  She gnawed on her pencil and smiled. Maybe the herbs had worked. She felt strong, confident and beautiful. Now, if she could only get out of seeing Jason. His seat was empty. Maybe he'd skip today and save both of them the embarrassment of having to deal with what happened last night. She could barely remember any of it, but the throbbing in her jaw wasn't reassuring.

  "I'm sorry to hear about your lab partner." Jasmine, an advanced placement sophomore, stood beside Shemeya's lab table. She grinned then quickly frowned, as if she remembered that what she was about to say was bad news

  "What are you talking about?" Shemeya asked, staring up at Jasmine's shiny metal braces.

  "He was sent to the hospital last night from not one but five snake bites." She stopped for a breath and licked her braces. "They were poisonous, and the doctors aren't sure if he'll live. If it were just one or two bites, maybe he'd be okay, but I don't see how anyone can survive five snake bites."

  Shemeya's chest tightened. "How do you know this?"

  "It was on the news. They didn't release his name, but I live down the street from him. I saw the ambulance and the news trucks last night at his house."

  Damn! Shameya's eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she remembered the hallucination from last night. Without another word, Shemeya stood, pushed past Jasmine and ran out of the classroom and into the girl's bathroom. She took down her braid and ran her fingers through her dreads and along her scalp.

  Nothing lived in her hair.

  Her dreads were not alive.

  Whatever had happened to Jason had nothing to do with her.

  Nothing.

  Relieved and thoroughly convinced she possessed dreads instead of snakes, Shemeya stepped into the hallway. However, her relief was short lived.

  Latreece stood outside the
bathroom. She looked like she was skipping volleyball practice because she wore a pair of too short, too-tight gym shorts that highlighted her tall skinny legs. Her cousins and a small group of students wearing the same gym uniform surrounded her.

  Latreece separated herself from the crowd. "I've been looking for you."

  Damn Latreece and her grudges! Shemeya looked for an escape. She needed a way to leave without looking like a punk. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now, Latreece." Shemeya tried to push Latreece to the side, but she grabbed Shemeya's arm and pulled her back.

  "No, we're dealing with this now." Latreece swung her fist and hit Shemeya in the eye.

  Shemeya fell to the floor. Flashes of light exploded across her closed eyelids. She had no idea that bag of bones could hit so hard. Before she could recover, Latreece hopped on top of her and began pummeling Shemeya's face.

  Shemeya's scalp started to itch.

  The same itch she'd had when she'd been fighting Jason. Damn, it hadn't been a hallucination! The itching increased, eclipsing the pain from Latreece's punches. She needed to get out of there before the entire school saw her.

  Taking a deep breath, she used her body weight to roll over. Latreece tumbled to the ground. Shemeya hurried to her feet and she ran through the crowd and down the hallway as fast as she could.

  The snakes hissed as she rushed away, sending tingles through her body. Desperate, she ran into to an empty classroom, switched off the lights, and hid in a closet at the back of the room. Everything had been fine up until that bitch had attacked her. Mind racing, she realized the same thing had happened with Jason. She was fine until he tried to rape her. The snakes must be connected with her anger.

  If she calmed down, would they go away? She sat stooped in the corner of the closet and caressed her hair, hoping it would calm them, calm her.

  The door to the classroom opened. Her stomach lurched, and the snakes began to move again.

  No, she thought, panicked. She needed to stay calm. Whoever it is would go away.

  "Shemeya?" said a voice from inside of the room.

  Damn, it was Sean, Latreece's boyfriend. But he'd also been Shemeya's first love. She'd broken up with him during freshman year to date a senior. She learned too late the older boy had only wanted one thing. When he got it, he never talked to her again.

  "Please go away," she shouted. Suspecting he wouldn't, Shemeya re-braided her hair, and hid the snakes in the braid as best she could. Just as she'd finished, the closet light switched on.

  "Shemeya, are you okay?" Sean stepped into the closet and kneeled so that they were face-to-face. "I'm sorry about Latreece."

  The concern in his eyes melted her heart. "How can you stand to be with someone like that?"

  "She's not usually like that. She's been acting crazy since the party last week."

  "If you didn't want to piss her off, then why did you tell the entire school we slept together?" Shemeya asked, louder than she intended.

  "I didn't tell anyone we slept together."

  "Then why all the stories? Everyone thinks I'm a ho, and your girlfriend just kicked my ass."

  "An entire room of people saw you pull me into that room at the party."

  He stood. She grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her onto her feet. "You could have told everyone the truth," Shemeya said.

  "I did. No one believed me." When they had dated, he was awkward and gawky, but over the past few years, he'd turned into one of the finest boys in school. She shouldn't have broken up with him. He had been the one to encourage her to grow dreads after her hair had broken off from a bad relaxer.

  "Why didn't anything happen at the party?" Shemeya asked. "You wanted to at first."

  He looked away, but not before I saw regret in his eyes. "That was a mistake. I'm with Latreece. I shouldn't have let it get that far." He tried to walk towards the closet door, but she moved in front of him, placing her hands on his chest.

  "Please don't go." Just touching him sent pleasurable chills down her spine.

  "I only came to make sure you were okay." He met her gaze. "You look fine, so I need to go. Latreece will kill me if she catches me in here."

  Shemeya grabbed his shirt. "No one will see us this time." He tried harder to move past her but he stopped suddenly, his entire body rigid underneath her hands.

  "Why does it look like there are snakes in your hair?" he asked, taking slow tentative steps backwards.

  "Don't worry about them. If you are nice to me, they'll be nice to you." She should have been worried, but his presence made her giddy and light headed. The snakes liked him and she needed to tell him how she felt. "I miss you."

  He gasped and covered his mouth with a trembling hand. Sean gaped at the snakes. "You been messing with Crazy Jade, haven't you?"

  She shrugged and let go of his shirt. "Maybe."

  "Shemeya, there are snakes attached to your head. That ain't normal."

  "Why aren't you surprised?" She patted her hair, and the snakes moved to stroke her hand.

  "Crazy things like this always happened in New York."

  She grimaced, not understanding what he said. "It's common to have dreadlocked snakes there?"

  "No, but there are so many damn fairies coming through, anything's possible." Sean's voice shook with apprehension and fear.

  "Fairies? Like gay people?" Shemeya asked. She'd never seen him so scared. For a second, she wondered if he might be going crazy, but the entire situation was crazy.

  "No, fairies like monsters." Sean took another step back and nervously rubbed a hand over his head. "Oh, damn! Did you attack Jason?"

  She bit her lip, suppressing the urge to cry. How did such a great day end up so bad? "I didn't hurt him. The snakes did, and I didn't know my hair was going to turn into snakes, and I didn't know Jason would try to rape me. The snakes were only trying to protect me."

  "Calm down, Shemeya." He grabbed her shoulders, preventing her from moving and forcing Shemeya to look up to meet his gaze. His top lip was twisted in disgust. "You need to get rid of those snakes before anyone finds out."

  "So you won't tell anyone about Jason?"

  "It was an accident and won't nobody believe me anyway."

  "Do you think Jade will take the snakes away?"

  "No. Don't go near her." He pulled Shameya out of the closet and into the classroom.

  "Just cut them off," he said, pulling out a pair scissors from the teacher's desk.

  "You gotta be kidding! I've been growing these for four years."

  "Your dreads turn into snakes. If you don't have the dreads, then you don't have snakes."

  Both she and the snakes cringed as Sean held out the ominous metallic scissors.

  Her dreads were a part of her. They separated her from everyone else. She ran her fingers through her hair and the snakes. The decision should have been simple: dreads or a normal life. So why was she hesitating to choose?

  ASHLEY

  I think that the most important thing a woman can have- next to talent, of course- is her hairdresser. - Joan Crawford

  Ashley's face contorted in pain, and her eyes teared while a wide-tooth comb traveled through her thick, dry, coiled hair.

  "You're the only mixed girl I know with hair worse than regular black folks," Chantel said, sucking on her teeth. Chantel was skinny, had a medium brown complexion, and she wore a gold hooped nose ring.

  "Damn you, Chantal. Why do you have to say that every time you do my hair?" Ashley's white father should have guaranteed she'd be born with long curly hair, but instead, she had hair like a wired brillo pad.

  When Chantel popped another nap, Ashley screamed and pulled away. Three kids: two girls and a boy between the ages of five and eight, sat on the couch near the shop's window laughing at her pain. She shot them a murderous stare before they looked away, but their giggling only increased. She hated when folks brought their bad ass kids to the salon. They were loud and always made fun of her while she got her hair done.


  The 23rd St. Beauty Parlor sat in an old shopping center between a Dollar Store and a bingo hall. Dingy beige paint peeled from the corners of the walls, and strands of black Silky Number 5 littered the floor. One of the three hooded hair dryers sitting in the back of the shop had an out of order sign on the broken plastic seat.

  "I need the good stuff," Ashley said, trying to ignore the muffled laughter of the kids.

  "The stuff I used last time was the good stuff," Chantel said.

  "You know what I mean." Ashley didn't bother to mask her frustration.

  "That stuff is illegal."

  "Is there anyway you can get your hands on some?" Ashley's hair grew uncontrollably. Until Chantel discovered a product called the Brazilian Blowout, it had never stayed straight for more than a few weeks. The process was banned recently, forcing Ashley to use methods that didn't work nearly as well.

  "It's banned for a reason. It has crazy levels of formaldehyde in it." Chantel hit the back of Ashley's chair. "And damn you for not being concerned about my well-being."

  "We've been using it for years and neither one of us has ever gotten sick."

  "Well, I don't want any problems either." Chantel rolled her eyes and waved the comb back and forth. "I'm not willing to die just 'cause you want your hair straight."

  "Just get some weave," said Treva, a short brown-skinned hairstylist, whose workstation sat across from Chantel. From the mirror, Ashley saw Treva gluing black silky tracks of weave onto her client's scalp.

  "My man does not like weave." Ashley released a long, sigh and leaned back in the chair. She looked past Chantal and her nose ring to the piss colored stains on the ceiling.

  "You know who does use that stuff still?" Treva asked.

  "Who?" Ashley shot straight up. The momentum almost sent her out of the chair.

  Treva looked above Ashley's head, suddenly silent.

  She followed Treva's gaze to see Chantal shaking her head and mouthing the word "no." Ashley turned back to Treva. "Don't listen to her. Who does it?"

  "Crazy Jade," Treva said, enunciating each word as if saying the person's name invited something evil and forbidden into the salon.