That OF WHICH I Entrust to THE SUN| POP SMOKE

1.3

May 18, 2007

I woke up to what felt like death pounding on my door-my head was killing me. As I laid in my bed, I covered my forehead with my right hand.

K. Awww. It's because you didn't eat yesterday, pooh.

Shit, you're right. I attempted to get out the bed without falling. I tried my best to manage the pain and continue to carry out my morning duties.

I had just gotten out of the shower and was fishing through the bathroom cabinet to find my favorite bath and body works lotion- vanilla bean noel. The fragrance was gifted to me by my step-mother the last time I visited New York for spring break. I just sat there reminiscing on all the fun times I had there, the possession of absolute freedom being the weightiest.

K. Ok Lenci, snap out of lala land. Right now you got a bus to catch.

Oh yeah. I chuckled internally.

I proceeded to put on my outfit:

Although my family wasn't rich, my mother never failed me when it came to finding fashionable pieces. On top of that, my grandmother was obsessed with shopping, especially for reasonably priced bags. So, I decided to pair the "MK" bag with my outfit. With that, I was headed out the door and on my way to the bus stop.

K. Poooooooohh

Yes, Keisha.

K. Damn. I'm just tryna tell you, you forgot to eat.

Shit. I guess I'll eat something from the school vending machine. Today, they were serving pancakes in a bag. Although they were good, they never gave us syrup, which I think is beyond dumb, but what do I know.

K. Uh, everything.

Period boo! Haha

I finally made it to last period, which happened to be Mr. Robinson's social studies class. He was African American and looked to be about in his mid-60's. To describe his character in short, he was old-school, and found the behavior of Gen Z kids to be contrary to the traditional values of his time. I mean I get it, modern day American teens- specifically in urban areas, are not typically associated with maturity, respect, and class. Yet, change is a sweeping broom. Often, it clears out the old and makes way for the new. I understand that sometimes it's hard to accept the reality of such a fact, but living in the past can be crippling. But that's not to say that I don't agree with him to some extent. Besides that, though, I was one of his favorite students. I always made sure my work was completed with little error, and I upheld a certain stature in the presence of my teachers. In my theory, I feel that if I turn in my work, receive good grades, and respect my teachers, my social life is to be fulfilled in the way I choose. To be honest, I know they always say that school is for learning and not association, but I know that being lonely is not something I want to feel for 12+ years of my educational experience. So, I kept a few people under my belt, just to feel included and accepted to some degree, for those times when solitude is calling. Now, some people might find fault in my thinking, labeling it as manipulative or weak, but I acknowledge it as stragetic- never played chess, but I know how to move them pons, knowimshayin. Haha

K. Bitch, you know you ain never been a pimp a day in your life boo.

You know what- whatever Keisha, cause you always cramping my style. Let me do me, ok?

K. Yes, let you continue to be dumb. Go right on ahead.

Whatever.

Anyways, the end of the school year was approaching. The days were getting shorter, and chaotic-

K. Dumbassery

...levels were rising. As teachers assigned less work, students took that opportunity to exhibit their negligent, wreckless sprirts. Honestly, I didn't mind it, but at times, I felt as if they were using their free time to practice idiocracy. Literally, yesterday I got into it with this girl on the black top at recess. We were both playing and then I asked her why she wears two false extension braids near her hairline among her entire head of curly hair-like I'm talking about full, thick, Spanish, curly hair. However, the truth of the matter was that I was a little jealous because at such a young age, I had developed physical insecurities that revolved around my lack of type 3 hair
, scars on legs that had developed from digging at countless mosquito bites during the summer, my wider big toe frame, and so much more.

Anyhow, she responded with, "Well, why you always wearing that mickey mouse, two bun hairstyle?" At this moment in time, I was getting a little irritated because my hairstyle had nothing to do with my personal preference. Actually, I always wore two buns because 1) it worked, 2) my mother couldn't braid for shit, 3) my dad stopped sending me money to get my hair done, 4) my step-father had additional children to take care of, 5) my attempt at ponytails(my favorite go-to hair style) always ended in a messy disaster and 6) because none of your business. So, I told her that instead of running around with horse hair attached to her head, I wanted her to think about the fact that my hairstyle represents an iconic character in the entertainment industry-that being Minnie mouse, and that mickey mouse is on tv while, on the other hand, she is not.

K. Damn, I'm telling y'all. When she said that, she took me TF out. Don't mess with her because you will feel the wrath of her smart mouth.

And that's on period. And this all apart from the fact that she is naïve, gullible, and not too bright. When I uttered my response, the look on her face was priceless. She scoffed at me, and ran along at the ring of the whistle.

But back to Mr. Robinson's class. I was currently working on my test until I heard somebody shout, "That's why ya baldhead, witcho ugly ass." I immediately recognized the voice as Melinda, the student that was awarded popularity and attention because of her role as the class clown. Melinda was Hispanic, and a little on the wider side. She wore glasses, and visibly suffered from acne as well. Nonethess, she never failed to make the class erupt with laughter. But I was scared of what Mr. Robinson's response would be, especially because I knew he abhorred disrespect in general. Then, I saw him whip out his belt from the loops of his pants and fold it in his hand as he made his way to Melinda's desk. Suddenly, he slapped the desk with full force and said, "You silly little girl. You think you gon come in my class and make all that damn noise. Let me tell you, you got the wrong man. Get out my classroom, now!" You could see the shock in Melinda's eyes as she watched the events that played before her. But, but...she camoflauged her fear with even more disrespect.

"I don't give a fuck. Your classroom ain't shit anyways. That why you tooty fruity in the ass, Mr. Rob-a booty-son," she retorted.

Chiiiiiiillllllllleeee. You might as well call the classroom a graveyard because everybody in that class was deceased. You know me, I tried to at least snicker discreetly because I didn't want to transfer any of that tension to my end.

K. You can tell her momma don't beat her. She need one good ass-whoopin. Turn that girl to a straight-A, respectful, and civilized young lady quick, fast, and in a hurray, ok.

After the whole ordeal earlier, class was dismissed and I made my way on to the bus.

It was 8:00 now and I was getting ready for bed.

K. Thank God it's Friday

Thank God, and good night.

______________________________________
To some, this chapter might seem a little short but I hope you enjoyed. Also, I know this story is tagged as a pop smoke story, and it is. However, stories do not always jump straight to the climax. But I promise he will be in this book oml.
S/n, I recently decided that Valencia will be in the fifth grade in the preliminary chapters of the book. Sorry, if I caused any confusion or misunderstanding.