Crazy Love by Amir Abrams Page A

have to ditch her. I watch as she walks down the hall, her heels clicking with each step until she disappears.

8
    A t exactly 2:45 P.M ., I get a text from Daddy as I’m leaving my locker stating he’s out front waiting for me. I could effen scream! Being picked up by your parent during your senior year is soooo not cute. Besides, I’d already texted Sincere and asked him to pick me up. And he’s on his way. I quickly text Daddy back and tell him okay, then call Sincere.
    â€œWassup, baby? I’m on my way. I’m like ten minutes away,” he says quickly.
    â€œWell, that’s why I’m calling. My dad’s already out front, waiting. So you don’t have to bother about tryna get here.”
    â€œDamn,” he says, sounding disappointed. “I wanted to see you.”
    â€œMe too.”
    â€œYou need to try to be nicer to your mom so you can hurry up and get off punishment.”
    I let out a disgusted sigh. “Don’t hold your breath. You’d pass out first before that ever happened. That woman—”
    â€œHey, boo, where you off to?”
    I look back over my shoulder. It’s Ameerah.
    â€œHome,” I tell her, waiting for her to catch up to me. I tell Sincere to hold on. “My dad’s outside waiting for me.”
    â€œOh, that sucks.”
    â€œTell me about it.”
    â€œI know you on the phone with your boo-thang, so tell ya man I said hey.”
    â€œYo, Meerah, when you gonna stop fronting and let me take you out?” Jacob Langley asks, walking up on us. He’s a senior, too. And track sensation. He was also one of Ameerah’s Boos-of-the-Month—well, two months—last year. “It’s a new school year, and I’m tryna make some new memories, ma.”
    â€œWhatever. I’m not beat. You had your chance.”
    â€œWassup, Miyah?”
    I give him a head nod and a wave, then tell Ameerah to call me later.
    â€œI got you,” she says as I walk off. The last thing I hear her say before I walk out the door is, “Jacob, sorry to bust your bubble. But you are last year’s news, boo.”
    The door shuts before I can hear what he says. “Sorry about that,” I say to Sincere, walking toward my dad’s car.
    â€œNah, you good. I’ma hit you up later, a’ight?”
    â€œOh, what, you wanna go run off and do something else?”
    â€œNah, I’m saying. I know you getting ready to get in the whip with your dad; that’s all.”
    I suck my teeth. “Whatever, Sincere. Go do you.”
    â€œOh, so now you gotta attitude?”
    I open the passenger-side door, getting in. “Nope,” I lie. But the truth is, I do have an attitude and feel myself getting annoyed. Because once again, it sounds as if he’s texting someone on his phone as he’s talking to me, something he’s done a few times in the past. And he knows how I hate that. It’s rude! Just like I don’t like it when he’s all up on Facebook reading wall posts when he’s supposed to be on the phone talking to me. Like really, who does that? “Look, call me later if you’re not too wrapped up in something or someone else.” I disconnect before he can respond. “Hi, Daddy,” I say, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.
    â€œHey,” he says, waiting for me to put my seat belt on, then pulling off. “How’s my girl doing?”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œI spoke to your mother this morning,” he says, glancing over at me. Ohhkay, here we go! I’m not surprised, though. She’s always running off tryna rat someone out.
    â€œShe told me she’s put you on punishment.”
    â€œAnd it’s so not fair, Daddy. I mean, really. I didn’t do anything to her.”
    He makes a right onto South Orange Avenue, sighing. “Kamiyah, all I’m going to tell you is you need to learn how to pick and choose your battles