Lyric & Blake

By V. Nikki Jones

Astin Lyric Boyd leaves her uptight prep academy to start seventh grade at Alcorn Junior High School. She quickly learns that public school means screaming teachers, popularity polls, and fashion wars. Lyric is nervous about being the lone new kid until she befriends a nerdy hipster that goes by her last name, Blake.

The inseparable duo wa

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resolute Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Apr 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9780983094890

Book preview

It’s Harder Than 6th!

ONE THING I doubted I would do was leave New Brunswick Academy. ‘The Ivy League’ was the bane of my existence. After four years of patiently waiting, New Brunswick failed to admit a diverse demographic of students. You would think that after so many years, a more heterogeneous population would emerge. Nope. Located in a picturesque southern town, New Brunswick only had two Black kids in the whole middle school! Progress nil! On the pros side, the student-to-teacher ratio was exceptionally small, there was an authentic Warhol in Founder’s Hall, and there were Sushi Wednesdays. But I was tired of that scene, so I opted to attend my neighborhood school. My first time ever attending public school thrust me into culture shock.

I sat in the hard plastic chair, barely able to contain myself. My anxiety level climbed as the teacher with the strong, raspy voice began roll call. Adams… Ali… Anderson. My palms and pits sweated in anticipation of hearing my last name and experiencing unwanted attention. I usually felt like a ball of nerves on the first day of school, but this year was different. I was at a new school and starting seventh grade. I couldn’t think past my stomach. The rough-voiced teacher read, Beard, Blake and I wondered whether I should say ‘present’ or whether that would sound too lame. Boyd.

Here, I answered. Cool, it was over. Only a few students turned around to look at me, the apparent new kid. To dry the sweat, I wiped my hands on the sides of my jeans. Like I said, it was always like this the first day of school. Even at New Brunswick, the start of each new school year conjured up persistent nausea and annoyance. Would I be the only girl in class? The only Black kid again? The Ivy League was a prep school, so those were valid questions. Where I sat now, those thoughts hardly made sense.

Eh, dem True jeans you got on? the stocky dude behind me asked. I bet they fake, he said, laughing to his friend. The dirty cleats underneath his desk signaled he was an athlete. I rolled my eyes. He turned back around to the redboned jock dude in front of him and said, I told you they ain’t real.

I hadn’t been in class ten minutes, yet these dudes were already buzzing. Of course my jeans were authentic True. Looking down at their feet, clearly these two jocks were a pair of lames. They had definitely hit up the BOGO sale at Payless. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with Payless, except the store’s severely limited variety of sneakers didn’t garner my interest.

Switching my attention from those lame jocks to some seats in front of me, I saw a few other students who were equally tacky— rocking bobo shoes, slouchy t-shirts, and faded Levi’s. Half of the class was decent and half not. Only a very small percent rocked top brands like me. I couldn’t even lie though, nearly everybody was killing the hair scene— trendy juice box cuts, old school fades, and box braids.

Before the study hall teacher finished roll, I noticed a girl with shoulder-length braids. The brown tips of her hair caught my eyes. Her face was not visible, but her butt poked out the back of the chair a little bit. She had body for a seventh grader; her side profile was nice, too. I realized that I was staring at her hard when she turned around to give the guy behind her something and bucked her eyes at me. She had a perfect face. I wished instead of looking crazy, she would’ve smiled or maybe sent a note my way asking me to sit with her at lunch. My answer would be a definite ‘yes’!

Dude up there like you, the stocky jock said. Boys irritated me, especially the ones who thought they were God’s gift to girls. Why was he even talking to me again? ‘Ugh, turn around bruh!’ I thought. I was checking for the girl with long braids. For the past few minutes, I had watched her pop gum and doodle while the two jock-friends yanked some girl’s hair and mimicked touching her booty. Something had to give.

Boy, face the front, leave her alone, and Jesse spit out the gum, the teacher ordered. I was so glad she’d intervened. Finally, I got my crush’s name: Jesse. I know I wasn’t the only one looking when she got up. Her stonewashed jeans were skin tight and neatly tucked into a pair of pink and gray high-tops. As she returned to her seat, she smiled at me. Yeah, I was staring again. Something about her minor attention toward me triggered the redboned jock to look back and roll his eyes.

After she sat down, I kept a watch on my surroundings. Across the room sat a kid with a huge curly afro and cherry frames reading a book. She was easy to notice because nobody was reading. Everybody else was doing something on the sly like eating, passing notes, or texting. There were cell phones between thighs pretty much everywhere. I was impressed at her ability to tune everything out. The room was quiet, but interesting stuff was going on all around us. Like at the right corner of the room, two students were passing a cell phone back and forth. The girl next to me had earbuds on underneath her hoodie. The music wasn’t loud, but based on her humming I knew it was Bey.

My people-watching came to an abrupt stall when the teacher broke my concentration. Do you need something to do? she asked.

I looked at her, clearly annoyed.

Yeah, I’m talking to you. In study hall, you need to look busy. No gum, putting your head down, or staring around.

So much for Sociology! Everybody was off-task but she came for me. I grabbed the book my mom gave me this morning from my backpack and placed it on the desk. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and pretended to read. I had read the book once before and it was incomparable to the cast of characters surrounding me. I had never attended a school with so many other Black kids before. People-watching was way more interesting than any piece of literature.

Boyd, come here.

Before standing, I glanced at the girl with the long braids, still texting. I prayed she wouldn’t turn around and see me in trouble. Everyone else noticed though. I blinked hard and started to sweat again. Jesse was too cute to witness my embarrassment. I mean, who wanted to be shamed in front of somebody they liked?

Yes, I answered.

The teacher’s name was Coach Jackson. She sat on her watchtower, one knee at attention and arms folded at the chest. I wondered what it would be like to knock her off her stool; then again, no expulsion first day. Instead, I stood before her eye-to-eye. If we were strangers passing on the street, I would have sworn she was a dude. Her jeans were folded at the hem to reveal bleach white sneakers and her gray t-shirt read AJHS, Alcorn Junior High School.

Already I wasn’t feeling her. Some of the students had talked about her before class started. According to them, she was serious about maintaining order and ran study hall like boot camp. Her orders: report before time, not on time; don’t talk; no hall passes; assigned seats; feet in front of you; no gum or candy; get up without permission and see what happens!

Didn’t I tell you to stop staring around? she said. Go get that book and bring it here. She softened her face and revealed two notable dimples.

Lesson #1 about 7th grade: everyone has at least one mean teacher who will not hesitate to brutally embarrass you!

I stood there tapping my hand gently against my thigh to cope with the unease. I really hoped Jesse was still texting. I mean, I knew she had heard everything. Everybody else was still focused on the event. Like the lame, toxic breath jock and his redboned friend with their Cheshire grins. I even noticed the kid with the curly afro and red frames had turned around, too.

Zari, keep reading, Coach Jackson said to her. Okay! Now everybody better get back on task. The teacher took the book from my hand and said in a softer tone, "The Skin I’m In. This is a good book. You know what it’s about?"

I looked at her for a second, nodded, then exhaled.

Go back to your seat and read, she said and pointed with her eyes.

With a frown, I sat and began to read since I couldn’t peruse the room without redirection. Coach Jackson lurked in the corner or behind my desk, ready to pounce on me the minute I stopped reading. Fortunately, in the middle of chapter two, the bell rang.

My excitement about leaving disappeared when I considered weaving through the traffic of chattering middle schoolers. I had no clue where to find my next class. There were major differences between Alcorn and New Brunswick. The hallways at Alcorn were foreign and student population way unfamiliar. I had heard that the hallways were a public forum on relationships and fashion.

Hold on…Zari, will you help Astin find her next class? Coach Jackson placed her hand on my shoulder.

I go by Lyric, I asserted.

"Help Lyric then, she said and laughed. See you Wednesday and bring that book back."

I walked briskly out the door following Zari, who stood a few inches shorter than me. And I was only 5' 2. Zari was silent as we negotiated our way past huddled masses of tweens. Since she was so quiet, I figured I’d say something. Appreciate you helping me out." It was the best thing I thought of. I would never ask, ‘Yo, are you a little person?’ or something dumb like that. She glanced at me and smirked. Zari was on fleek! Definitely giving me a run for my money. She donned fresh red skinnies and a pair of checkerboard Chuck’s. I could barely keep a smile off my face as we walked the hallway. We looked like two stars strutting the red carpet.

The milieu was filled with folks loudly laughing and cussing, quickly walking to and fro, singing and fussing, and slamming locker doors. Teachers at hallway corners yelled "quiet