Street (Urban Fiction)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Three weeks had gone by and I was on my feet. I was prepared for whatever Jordan threw. It was kind of odd, every week I found myself more eager. When I got better he started hitting me a little harder. He told me some girls out there hit like grown niggas. I told him I didn't care. I hit like a grown nigga too and that was one thing he couldn't deny.

As the weeks went by I could fit a size 34A bra. I was beginning to see my mom when I looked into the mirror. My waist was slim like hers and my butt was in nice shape. The only thing she had that I didn't was wider hips. I was mad at first because I thought my assets would slow me down. I shared my concern with Jordan and he explained that the streets use everything to its advantage. He knew I wanted to become the street. He also knew he couldn't change that, but he respected it.

He said that he was the same way when his mom begged him to stop drug dealing. But if he couldn't bring the money in, then they'd have been on the streets. He told me that I should take advantage of my assets. Not in ways like prostitution, but a form of distraction when I was out on the streets. They'd see me and put their guards down. All they'd see is a pretty face and a decent body. I'd see a chance to do whatever it is I planned on doing. I thought about what he said and he was right.

I was going over to Jordan's more often. He'd show me things like how to defend myself without weapons and showed me how to read between the lines when a guy tried to spit game. He even spat a few lines and I found myself laughing at how ridiculous they were. I wondered to myself how any woman could ever fall for them.

As I recovered from my laughter his expression grew serious. He told me he didn't want me falling into the dark side of the streets either, the world of prostitution and the use of drugs. He told me to be careful when it came to trusting people. The street was like a tiny island. Once the water flooded it, it was everyone for themselves. The less people I allowed to get close to me, the less people I had to save. And if some of those people weren't real, then I'd be going under for those I tried to save.

I let out a sigh as I glanced at my mom's full length mirror. The first day of school was finally here. I was excited because that was my first time going to school without uniform. Momma took full advantage of that and dressed me. She said you never get to make a first impression twice.

She put me in a plaid, black, white, and red halter top. Some ripped white skinny jeans, and red heels. I threw on a simple heart chain with matching earrings. I stood there as momma flat wrapped my hair with a flat iron. When she was done I took one glance in the mirror, kissed momma and Michael bye, and left.

After introducing herself and having us introduce ourselves, my homeroom teacher put us into pairs. Unfortunately, we didn't get to choose our partners. Great. First day of school and we were already assigned projects.

"Wassup?" Someone asked from my right.

"Hi," I replied back to the person I was assigned to. He laughed a little. I guess he realized how emotionless my reply was and found it humorous. "Did I say something funny?" I shot back at him.

He laughed again and that had anger rushing through my veins. I rolled my eyes and turned away from him. "Chill, ma. How you gon' be my partner, but you don't wanna talk to me? My name's Chris."

He touched my hand as the words left his mouth. I turned and was face to face with him. He had the lightest eyes I'd ever seen on a boy. He was smiling, so I noticed his dimples, which weren't too deep, but were visible at the same time. He had full lashes, but they enhanced his looks, and his baby face--

"Ma?" He said with a wide grin. "This is the part where you tell me your name."

I couldn't help but smile back. "Karisha, but a lot of people just call me Risha."