Anika
It had been two weeks since Brooklyn slid off with Knucks. The new semester had started, and I was starting to see less and less of her. I wasn't surprised to see that Brooklyn didn't come in last night. I shot her a text to check-in, but she didn't respond yet. She had afternoon classes, so I wasn't tripping. I knew that my girl was smart enough to not miss a class because of some nigga. Her passing her classes is what kept her grade point average up, and that's what kept her scholarship, and that kept her in school. If she lost that, then she would have been in her car on the first highway back to New York. I couldn't believe that Knucks got her a new car. Deep down inside, I was trying to be happy for my friend, I swear I was.
I opened Instagram to see that she had posted a picture of herself and Knucks. She was standing in front of the mirror with one of his shirts on. I could tell that it belonged to him because of the way it hung off of her small frame. Her hair was wild, and she sort of looked like she had put all her weight on one leg to toot out her hip to show off her ass. Behind her was his bed with him lying in it. He didn't have a shirt on, and the way he was laying on his back with his head turned facing the t.v that hung on the wall, hid his face. Her caption said #NoFaceNoCase #MCE. I double tapped to like it and then opened my regram app so that I could repost it. My caption was quick, short, and to the point. Yassss bestie go off! After I posted it, I grabbed my bookbag and headed to my first class.
***
By the time I got out of class, my phone was jumping. My Instagram was lit the fuck up, and I couldn't understand why. Normally when I posted a picture in my panties or something, this was the reaction that I would get, but I hadn't posted a selfie in a few days. It was the repost I did on Brooklyn's post. Three hundred likes and two hundred and eighty-nine comments. I intended on reading them all. Monroe was the first to comment with just the strong-armed emoji. I didn't know what the hell his problem was lately when it came to Brooklyn. He was the one that put a stop to whatever it was that they had, but he was acting like it was the other way around. The rest of the comments were an argument between Brooklyn and this girl named Jade from my old hood and her friends. I didn't even feel like reading it all once I saw my best friend comment Bitch link. It's lit for you! I called her.
"Hello?" she answered in an annoyed tone.
"Sis, what the hell gone on on da gram?"
"Man fuck you, ya ass re-posted my picture knowing you had a gang full of bitches you follow that can't stand my man. You my bestie, and I'm arguing with dese country ass bitches because ov you."
"Wait, wait... how is any of this shit because of me. The picture was cute. I reposted it. What's the problem? I always repost ya shit."
"The problem is dis bitch tryna jam my nigga up with a baby that ain't even his, and she thought it was the right move to throw her lil stank ass gremlin up in my face. I'ma... wash... that... bitch."
I could hear her clapping her hands in between every word of her last sentence. I ain't a fighter, but I was down to ride with my bih. I knew how Jade and her friends got down. They jumped bitches, and nobody was gone jump, my girl.
"Well, pull up and get me, sis, we could ride on dem hoes togetha."
I was getting pumped, so I put her on speakerphone and then put my kinky twist up into a ponytail.
"WE ain't doing shit. Read through ya comments some random bitch talking bout she knows all about me. How I'm from New York, and I wasn't shit there and how I'm not gone be shit here. That I need to take my bum ass back to the crack house. Where she get all lat shit from Nika, huh? Nobody out here knows that my mom is a crackhead but you. Who the fuck you been telling my business to?"
