Poochie made a circle with her arm, snapping three times. “Don’t try to play me. Y’all both sittin’ up in Big’s house doin’ nothin’ with your life, livin’ off her fixed income. While y’all trynastompmy momma’s foot, you need to be stompin’ up a job.”
“Doyouhave a job?” Jazzy spoke through gritted teeth. “’Cause from what I know, you haven’t left the nest, either.”
“I got myowndisability check,” she boasted.
“For what?” I tag-teamed.
“For my lymphedema, thank you very much.”
The door creaked open. “Ummm...excuse me,” Kirstie said, coming inside the waiting area. “Can you please lower your voices? You’re disturbing our patients.” She posed the question politely, but her tone said she wasn’t having it.
Poochie shook her head and bunched her massive fists. “Y’all about to have two more patients in a minute.”
“We’re sorry,” I said to Kirstie.
“Poochie, you need to calm down before you get us kicked out.” Jazzy crooked her head toward the door. “Go on in with Cousin Glory Jean. We’ll wait out here until y’all leave.”
“We gon’ be here all day.” Poochie cut her eyes at us as she waddled toward Big’s room.
“Fine,” Jazzy agreed. “Since y’all are here, Niya and I will head out. We could use a break, but we’ll be back tonight.”
“Whatever,” Poochie snarled as she made her way to see Big.
I repeated, “Whatever,” though of the two of us, Jazzy was the fighter. She was the one who never backed down. I was her loyal sidekick, hoping no one threw a punch because then I’d have to jump in to help my sister. Now, I didn’t like violence, but when necessary I fought dirty and delivered a mean jab. I just preferred peace.
“I gotta go to the restroom,” Jazzy said. She pointed toward Big’s room once Poochie had disappeared inside. “That girl made me have to pee.” My sister jetted out the waiting room to the restroom.
“You okay?” Kirstie asked, looking at me with pity in her eyes.
I scuffed my shoe on the floor, hating how ghetto we must appear, but I didn’t want her pity so I grabbed up my final dregs of pride. “Yeah,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s all good.”
Kirstie took a deep breath.
I did the same and welcomed the calm that came with oxygen.
“Your cousin is wrong, you know?” Kirstie said, placing a hand on my arm.
“Yeah.” I snickered, misunderstanding her on purpose. “There’s no way she could make hospital patients out of me and Jazzy.”
Kirstie shook her head. “I’m talking about your other cousin. The one who was talking about college. She’s wrong about the money. You went to Lovetown High, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So you grew up in either Lovetown or Red Valley. Right?”
I nodded.
“Well, if you grew up in our neighborhoods, living off your grandmother’s social security check and both your parents were deceasedandyou had no job, you might have been able to go to college for free, using grants. And whatever your grants didn’t pay for, student loans would cover. So, you could’ve gotten your degree and a job paying forty, fifty, sixty thousand a year and find your way out like I did. Because Lovetown is about to be a ghost town, so get out while you can.”
Forty, fifty? Sixty thousand a year?That’s, like, five thousand dollars a month.Those numbers sounded like figures from a board game with fake pink and yellow money. I didn’t know anybody who made that kind of money. Legally.
“But how would I get to school? I don’t have bus money or a car?” I quizzed, cringing at how pitiful I must sound.
Kirstie nodded like she understood. “I didn’t have any money either, but I lived off the refund from my loans and used it to get to school and buy my books.”
I straightened. “Refund?” I said, feeling hope rise within me. Jazzy would spot the cash I needed to start school for sure if she knew I’d be able to pay her back.
She nodded. “Yep. Just don’t borrow more than you need so you won’t have any problems paying it back.” She cocked her head. “I can give you the website to apply for financial aid if you’d like? You’ve still got time to get approved before the next semester starts.”
Firecrackers shot off inside me.Me. In college. Forty, fifty, sixty thousand dollars a year. I could do a whole lot of good with that money.
“Yes, please. Tell me everything you know.”
