Remember that regular degular 21-year-old who had it all figured out? Well, surprise! Back to 16 we go, where teenage chaos reigns supreme and I'm just your average girl, in an alternate world as St. Hugh's pride and joy and head girl extraordinate...
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I wake up to noise, who nah cuss bout Sash caylessness a recite wah dem see on videos with Gavin.
"Him dead?" I hear someone ask.
"Mi no know, mighty God," Mama blurts out. "Pray fimme pastor pray fimme!" Pastor Jacobs begins to pray. He's on the phone with Mama. It's all just too much.
When she spots me staring worriedly she says. "Zara you no hear mi say fi stop worry, yuh pregnant!" it's probably her fifth time.
I lazily brush my teeth, taking about five minutes to spit out the paste and spend another five to wash my face.
Walking out, both legs spread apart, Sash looks at me, her face droopy.
"Morning cuz.." she trails off. All now she seem high.
"Morning," I bend over and a pain shoots in my back. I let out a scream, mama runs to me.
"Mi say fi sit down and stop stress out the baby!" she shouts.
I hold my back, still wincing, my legs wide apart, the tees feeling like a bodycon. I get to zip my bag and put my toiletries back in.
"Wah you and Nickoi have?" Sash questions. Last night when he was sleeping, I packed my things and called an ontime.
Mi nuh wah have nutt'n fi do with him!
We a hear say Gavin dead...
We a hear say him alive but him nah go mek it....
All because Nickoi's pride. Him hurt mi real bad last night and me done with him. If it come to the test mi gimme Pitney mi last name.
Zara yuh know yuh cya' do that.
A wonder why?
He could have done something—anything. Now we d'even know if Gavin aguh make it or if him a go pan shirt.
A tear falls from my eyes.
"Wah dem a say now?" I'm forced to ask Mama. I just can't seem to settle, my blood pressure rising.
"Zara no worry yourself," Mama breathes out, her face is painted with stress.
As the seconds turns into minutes, family members and neighbors who I haven't seen in forever gathers on Mama's veranda to offer their sympathy.
"Mi say a mi bed me inna and Gary wake me and a say yuh no hear wah dem do to Sandra Grand son," a woman name Rona says.
"Some a dem bwoy yah a gwaan like dem straight bend up like a S. Suppose yuh see the bad boy weh dem ketch him wid? A one a the same bad man dem son and the bwoy niceee you would a swear him full a gyal!" Jenieve says. She's a far cousin.
