Sequoia Denise, Just a Kid

By Teresa D. Patterson

School is out and thirteen-year-old Sequoia Denise Washington is bored already. She thinks it's going to be another uneventful summer; one that consists of battling with her mother or being in the shadows of her oldest sisters, Desiree and LaToria. Then she meets the coolest person ever- Brandon. Brandon is fifteen, Korean, and the most exciting boy she's ever met. She befriends him even though she knows her mother wouldn't approve.

She's having a great summer until LaToria ups and quits her job at the Times to dance in a bikini bar. Her mother finds out about Brandon and forbids her to see him again. Next, Desiree shocks them with a secret, one with devastating consequences. Suddenly, her whole world is spinning out of control.

When will her family stop treating her like she's just a little kid? How will she handle the news that Brandon has to move? Can she bond with the father she has never met? How will she ever cope with losing a family member?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa D. Patterson
• Release date: Dec 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465988973

Teresa D. Patterson

Teresa D. Patterson came onto the literary scene with her debut novel, Project Queen, which was published by a small independent publishing company. It wasn't long before she realized having complete control over the creation and distribution of her books suited her better, compelling her to publish her own future works.Her first independent published novel was Ex-boyfriend. She went on to write several novels in multiple genres, which includes contemporary fiction, erotica, inspirational fiction, juvenile fiction, romance, and urban lit. She has written twenty-eight novels and co-authored one.

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Whatever Teen Series

Collection: Sequoia Denise, Just a Kid &

Janell Has an Attitude

Teresa D. Patterson

Copyright 2015 by Teresa D. Patterson

Published by Edit Again Publications at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, placed and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

I walk into the bedroom that I share with my two sisters, LaToria and Desiree. LaToria, who everybody calls Tory, is sitting on the bed painting her toenails. She’s chosen pink, of all colors. Blah!

What’s up, Brat? She insists on using the nickname that I don’t like, and I roll my eyes at her.

Nothing, I say. I hate that it’s the last day of school. What am I gonna do for the whole summer? I’m already bored. I plop down on the bed beside her.

Sequoia, look at what you made me do, she squeals. I glance over and see that the pink nail polish has overturned and spilled onto the sheet.

Oops. I put my hand up to my mouth.

Well, don’t just sit there looking stupid. Get me the nail polish remover. Quick.

I jump up and head over to the dresser. I retrieve the bottle of nail polish remover from the top of the cluttered bureau.

Here. I hand it to her and watch as she takes off the top, soaks a cotton ball with some remover, dabs it on the spot, and scrubs.

Err, she groans. Her efforts only leave a bigger pink blur on the sheet.

Probably because you got the cheap stuff, I say, not bothering to hide my smirk.

Oh, shut your cake hole. It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have jumped on the bed like that. I’m telling Mama.

So what? Ain’t like she’s gonna do nothing to me. I roll my eyes again.

Sequoia, why don’t you go somewhere? She looks at me and rolls her eyes back. You are already starting to get on my nerves and school hasn’t been out one day yet.

Well, it’s my room, too, and I want to watch TV.

Watch it in the living room.

I don’t want to. I want to watch it in here, I insist. I grab the remote control and sit down in the Joe Boxer student chair.

"Sequoia, I am not playing with your behind, girl. You better get your ass in there and watch TV." She points with one hand and places the other hand on her hip. I guess she has an attitude or something. I don’t care one bit. Am I supposed to be scared? Whatever!

You don’t tell me what to do. Just because she’s nineteen doesn’t mean she can boss me around.

I guess she catches on that I’m not about to obey her. She sighs in frustration. Look, I’m expecting some company in a few minutes. So, will you please go so I can get ready? She finishes painting her toenails and plugs the blow dryer in the socket.

Company? Who? Charmaine? Lisa? I am being nosey, but I can’t help it.

Nope. You don’t know him, she says.

Him? I stare at her like she’s sprouted two heads. Did you say HIM?

Yes. Did I st-st-stutter? she says sarcastically. Him, as in male. Donny should be here in about five minutes.

Who is Donny? What are you and Donny gonna to do? I ask and stare at her with wide eyes.

That’s my personal business. She turns on the dryer and begins to blow dry her toes. Now, get to stepping.

Are you going to be kissing and stuff? I ask. She ignores my question and sticks her tongue out at me.

None of your business, she finally answers.

Well, if you are, that’s nasty. I hope you know that kissing passes germs. She just laughs and continues to blow dry her toes.

I stare at her in secret admiration. Tory is really pretty. Beautiful. She has mocha-colored skin. She’s tall and slim, with curves in all the right places. She has long, natural hair- weave-free. Her eyes are almond-shaped and her nose is perfect. To top it off, she has the face of a goddess. What I’m trying to say is that she makes me sick.

I’m short and my chest is flat. I think I have an average face and I’m pencil thin. I’m so light-skinned that I look pale. My hair is thick and curly. I can’t do anything with it. To make things worse, I have these hazel, cat-looking eyes and I’m only five feet tall.

My other sister, Desiree, is fifteen and pretty in her own way. She just doesn’t want anyone to know just how pretty she is. She wears big clothes and Coca Cola bottle, thick glasses. She’s always reading a book or drawing. She even designs clothes that she lets me model. She is remarkable and sweet. She doesn’t raise her voice and she’s never mean to anyone. She sings like an angel. I love to hear her sing.

Both of my sisters are so talented. Tory is a journalist. She’s in college and her major is broadcast communications. Her minor is journalism. She works at the Times and dreams of being a broadcasting journalist. I know she’ll be on TV one day, just like Denise Williams, the pretty black lady on the news.

So. Back to me.

I guess I’m the black sheep of the family. Every family has one. You know, the one kid who just doesn’t live up to their parents’ expectations. That’ll be me. And it doesn’t help that I’m the baby at 13. All the great things I could be are already taken by my two fabulous, wonderful sisters. I really don’t have any goals. I’m not sure about college. I don’t even like to read and can’t draw a straight line. To top it off, I have the vocal cords of a toad.

My mother gave up on me a long time ago when I told her I wanted to drive trucks for a living. I thought it was a great career choice. I’d get to drive all over the country, talk on my CB and pull my horn, waving at people as I passed by. Just mentioning it gives my mother one of her migraines, which she gets often.

Well, anyway. Enough of that. Tory’s date must be at the door because I hear the doorbell. I’ll have to inspect him and see if he gets the stamp of approval.

I’ll get it, I say. Tory’s standing in front of the closet, looking at her clothes. She definitely can’t answer the door herself because she’s only wearing a bra and panties.

I run downstairs, open the door and glare at the guy standing there.

Are you here for Tory? I ask and he nods.

Yes, I’m Donny. How are you? He holds out his hand.

Whatever, I say. He drops his hand and places it in his pocket. He shifts from one foot to the other.

Come in. Don’t just stand there letting flies in. He does and I close the door.

Er, what’s your name? he asks.

Nunya.

Nunya? He gives me a puzzled look.

Nunya business. I say. Get it? He shrugs, and I roll my eyes at him. He’s not too bright. Tory, your man is here, I yell upstairs then turn back to him. She’ll be down in a minute. Have a seat somewhere.

Thank you. I guess, he says.

He walks over and takes a seat on the couch where Desiree is sitting. She glances at him briefly, says, Hello then goes back to reading her novel.

I sit in the La-Z-Boy and stare at Donny. He’s kind of cute. He is brown-skinned with a low cut fade. He is dressed in FUBU, but he doesn’t look too thuggish. At least he doesn’t have a mouth full of gold teeth. Gold teeth are so disgusting. He catches me staring and I look away.

Hey, you want something to drink? I ask, deciding to be polite.

Yeah, sure. What do you have?

Kool-Aid.

What kind? he asks.

I stare at him with an annoyed look. Red. You want some or not?

Red is not a flavor, he says and I roll my eyes again. But, I’ll take some. Would it be too much trouble if I ask for some ice?

You can have some ice. I get up.

Oh, I was kind of scared to ask. Thought you might bite my head off or something. He gives a half laugh.

I suck air through my teeth at his attempt at a joke. Desiree chuckles.

Is she like this all the time? I hear him ask as I head toward the kitchen.

As I pour the Kool-Aid, I hear the front door open. Mama. My heart drops. There is going to be hell to pay. Mama doesn’t like anyone, and I do stress anyone, in her house when she’s not home.

I pick up the glass and carry it into the living room.

Hi, Mama. She rolls her eyes. When I hand Donny the Kool-Aid, Mama glares at me.

Who is that? she asks.

Er, um- Donny, I say, sitting down.

What is he doing in my house? She gives him the eye, and I can tell that he’s getting nervous. He hasn’t even touched his drink.

He’s here for Tory. I shrug my shoulders. Hey, you gonna drink that Kool-Aid or not? I ask him. He gives a half-smile and reaches for the glass.

Thanks, he tells me, finally taking a swallow. He places it back on the table.

Mama puts her purse and keys on the table next to Donny’s drink.

LaToria. LaToria. Get down here, girl. Make it quick. She places her hand on her hip, still eyeing Donny.

Tory appears within seconds. She’s wearing jeans and a tank top with spaghetti straps. She has pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She has on Nikes, so what was the point in painting her toes? Go figure.

Yes? Her tone is syrupy sweet. She ignores Mama’s look of annoyance.

You know the rules of the house. No company when I’m not here, Mama says.

I know, Ma. Donny is here to help me with an assignment -- work related stuff. That’s all. She hops off the last step, gives Mom a quick kiss on the cheek, and takes a seat on the couch next to Donny.

Humph, Mama mumbles.

Mama, you want me to start dinner? Desiree asks.

That’s another thing I forgot to mention. Desiree can cook likes she’s somebody’s