Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self - By Danielle Evans Page 0,5

brother’s shoes, since he only owned Tims and sneakers. He also had his brother’s ID, even though his brother didn’t look a damn thing like him. Michael was smaller and copper-colored and looked to me like he ought to wear glasses, even though he didn’t.

“Money earnin’ Mount Vernon’s not good enough for you two anymore?” he asked, his hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets.

“Mount Vernon’s not good enough for anybody,” said Jasmine. “And this city needs a new damn motto. Do you know anybody here who earns any real money?”

“Mr. Thompson’s doing all right,” Michael said, and I thought to turn around and see if Mr. Thompson was standing on the platform watching me, because I knew if he was he’d be disappointed.

It hadn’t finished turning into night yet when we’d gotten on the train, but when we got off in the city my legs shivered. It was still early, so we got slices of pizza from Famous Ray’s, and sat in the window, watching people go by. Our reflections in the window glass looked watery, like we were melting at the edges.

“All right,” said Jasmine. “Who are we tonight?”

“Serene and Alexis, same as always,” I said, “And Michael, you’re Ron, I guess.” I was thinking of the names on our IDs.

“No, stupid. I mean, who are we when guys ask questions?” Jasmine said.

“Seniors?” I said.

“Nah, we’re in college,” said Jasmine.

“What college?” I said.

“You two? Clown College,” said Michael. Jasmine threw a dirty napkin at him.

“That’s you, Michael,” she said. “We in City College. I’m a fashion major, and I’ma get rich selling people nice clothes so girls don’t go around lookin’ like Cindy Jackson, lookin’ trifling all the time, and so you, Erica, can find some pants that actually fit your ass in them. I got a man, and he’s fine, and he plays ball, but I may have to kick him to the curb because lately he’s jealous of me, so I’m at the club lookin’ for someone who can handle me.”

“What’s he jealous for?” I asked.

“He’s jealous of my success, dummy. Who are you?”

I thought about what I would be if I could be anything, but I didn’t really know.

“I’m at City College, too, I guess,” I said. “What do you major in to be a teacher?”

“Teaching,” said Jasmine.

“Ain’t no major in teaching,” said Michael.

“You ever been to college?” said Jasmine “Your brother ain’t even been to college.”

“I’m not stupid,” said Michael. “I’m gonna have a degree. I was over at Mr. Thompson’s today talking about books and stuff, while you two were putting a bunch of makeup on your faces.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Teaching. I’m majoring in teaching, then.”

“What about your man?” Jasmine said.

“He’s great,” I said. “He’s in college, too, and he’s gonna be a doctor, but he also writes me love poems. And paints pictures of me. He’s a painter too.”

“He so great, why you at the club?” said Michael.

“Umm . . . he’s dead?” I said.

“Dead?” said Jasmine.

“Dead.” I nodded. “I just finished grieving. I burned all his poems and now I wish I still had them.”

“Check this chick,” said Jasmine. “Even when she makes shit up, her life is fucked up.”

Michael gave me his jacket on the way from Ray’s to the club, and I wrapped it around me and felt warmer. He was talking about earlier, when he was over at Mr. Thompson’s.

“Did you know,” said Michael, “that the Ethiopians beat the Italian army?”

“Do I care?” Jasmine asked. “No wonder I never meet nobody, hanging out with you.”

Michael made a face at Jasmine behind her back, but we were quiet for the rest of the walk.

I didn’t know why Jasmine needed to meet people besides us anyway. Jasmine thought just because people were older, they were going to be more interesting. They didn’t look any more interesting, all lined up outside the club like we did on school picture day. At the door one of the bouncers checked Jasmine’s ID, then looked her up and down and waved her in. He barely looked at mine, just glanced at my chest and stamped my hand. But he didn’t even take Michael’s, just shook his head at him and laughed.

“Not tonight,” he said.

Michael didn’t look too surprised, but he reached for my wrist when he saw I was waiting there, like I would have left with him if he asked me.

“You be careful with yourself, all right?”

I nodded. The bouncer turned around like he might change his mind about letting me in. “Bye, Ron,”