“What about your cell phone? Do you have your charger?”
“Phone, check. Charger, check.”
My mother sighs. “Okay, make sure you call me before your plane takes off. Then call me when you land. After that, call me in the morning, once during the day, and before you go to bed.”
She gets the are you kidding me blank stare.
My younger sister, Candy, says, “Dang, Mama Gwen. When is she supposed to have any fun if she’s doing all that calling?”
“This trip is not about fun, it’s about getting her into a good school,” my mother explains. “You’ve got money, right? And an ATM card?”
She knows I have everything because we did a check, double-check, and triple-check yesterday. And the day before that.
She’s tripping.
Finally, I hear Mrs. Freeman’s horn blaring outside.
“Mom, Ricky and his mom are here! I’ve got everything on the list, and if I forget something, you can mail it to me.”
“Okay, Gia, give me a hug.”
I give hugs to my mom, sister, and my stepdad, LeRon. They are quick hugs because we’ve already wasted enough time, and I don’t want to be late for my flight.
My mom and LeRon follow me outside to the car. I knew they were going to do that, so I try not to get irritated, but I’m not sure if it’s working.
“Hey, Gia!” Ricky says as he puts my suitcase in the trunk. “Are you kidding me? What do you have in here?”
“Clothes, shoes, hair products. The usual.”
Ricky shakes his head. “It feels like you have ten sets of encyclopedias in there.”
LeRon clears his throat. “Ricky and Gia, we’ve got some ground rules for you all while you’re away for the summer.”
Ground rules? I can already tell this is going to steal my joy.
“Number one, remember that you belong to God and that He can see everything you’re doing all the way in New York.”
Wow! He put the “God sees all” rule on us. If I was planning to hook up with Ricky or any other hot boy, that just totally killed it.
“Number two, have fun!” my mom says. “We trust you and know that you’ll make us proud.”
“That’s all?” I ask.
Gwen cocks her head to one side. “I can come up with some more if you want.”
My mom hugs me and Ricky one last time before we get in the car and finally pull off. Ricky’s mother looks at us in the rearview mirror and smiles.
“I’ve got my own rule,” she says. “Please go up there and act like you’ve got some home training.”
That means for us not to do anything stupid that would end up embarrassing our families. That’s a given.
I glance over at Ricky sitting next to me in the backseat. He’s wearing the Tennessee Titans jersey I gave him for Christmas last year. Cute. I’m wearing his gifts too: a charm bracelet and a butterfly barrette.
Yeah, Ricky went totally overboard last year with his gifting. He told me he was giving me the barrette because I reminded him of a butterfly. How is it that it seemed so much less corny the first time I heard it on Christmas Day?
I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Ricky’s wearing some kind of cologne that smells really nice. Or maybe that’s drier sheets and laundry detergent. All I know is he’s smelling fresh and clean.
It’s going to take all my strength and the prayers of all the ladies in the church for me to resist the power of the crush. I really want to fight it, but without distractions from people at home, this could be the opportunity Ricky and I need to finally make it official.
And, of course, we’ve got to be official by senior year. Hello!
I feel the excitement building in my stomach as we pull up to the airport terminal. There is a flight attendant waiting on us at the door because we’re flying as unaccompanied minors. It almost feels like a babyish kind of thing, but when I found out that my mom wouldn’t let me fly without the extra supervision, I gave up my issues with it.
With our escort (babysitter), we get to go through the security checkpoint without standing in line. Sweet!
Finally, we’re seated in the gate area until takeoff time, which is about thirty minutes from now. I’m about to plug in my iPod and listen to some Sasha Fierce when Ricky taps me on the shoulder.
“What’s up, Ricky Ricardo?”
His eyes are wide and excited. “We’re going to New York City. For the entire summer. No parents.”
“I know, right!”
“Gia, this is going to be the best summer of our lives. We’re about to make it hot.”
I can’t do anything but nod in agreement. Hotness indeed. Hotness to infinity!
2
Okay, so why is my New York City adventure getting off to a bad start already? You would think that Ricky and I would be sitting next to each other on the plane, but no. I’m two rows behind the first-class seats, and Ricky’s close to the back. There’s no telling who I’m going to have to sit next to now!
Lord, please don’t let it be someone smelly or extra large.
I play with my shiny cornrows and the butterfly barrette that’s clipped into the side. Looking out the window is making me even more anxious to take off. I open a little compact mirror that’s in my purse and refresh my strawberry mint lip gloss to take up the time. Then flip through the SkyMall magazine they stuff in the back of airline seats. Umm…do people really buy massage beds for their dogs? And if so, why would they be thinking of said purchase while they’re on an airplane?
After putting the magazine back in its place, I lean my head back and close my eyes. Maybe if I take a nap, this time will fly by.
“Hello. I think you’re in my seat.”
So much for my nap. But for real, for real, if my nap just had to be cut short, at least I’m waking up to a cutie.
The boy standing in front of me has to be near my age. He’s cocoa brown, and not the ashy kinda cocoa—the smooth, make-you-wanna-reach-out-and-touch-it cocoa. Nice.
“Umm…let me see. My seat is nine-C. Is that what yours says too?”
He brushes the long, shiny locs out of his face. “Yes. Mine says nine-C too. Great.”
With an annoyed look on his face, he signals for the flight attendant. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asks me as he motions to the empty seat next to me while he waits for the attendant.
“I don’t mind at all. Help yourself.”
“Thank you. I’m Rashad, by the way. What’s your name, Princess?”
The smile is involuntary. Dang, I’m cheesing extra hard. My brain is trying to tell my teeth to separate so I can answer the question, but they aren’t listening!
“Gia,” I force myself to reply. “My name is Gia.”
Rashad smiles back. “Gia. That fits you. It means ‘flower in bloom.’”
“It does?”
“I just made that up, I’m afraid,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Are you mad?”
Memo to my brain: Stop with the grinning already! He’s gonna think I’m mentally challenged. “No, I’m not mad.”
The