“Well, I ain’t gonna be here in two weeks,” Nakesha lied, leaning to the side so all her stomach fat squeezed out the right hip of her Jordache jeans.

“There’s another orientation and appointment session scheduled for a week after that…”

“What if we already know what we want?” I asked. They acted like they were dealing with the types of girls who expected a nice mommy-daughter lunch on Michigan Avenue, right before that birds and bees shit, just because they started the rag. That wasn’t us.

“When services are government funded, the government requires us to disclose certain information before we administer any treatments or dispense any products. Now if you don’t mind—”

“The government needs to understand folks already doin’ it and don’t need no information from them about it,” Nakesha said, her mouth now a stanky lopsided triangle. She was determined to show out until she got her way, but behind us sucked teeth clicked against glossy lips.

“Now look…”

“Don’t she see all us standin’ here?”

“They ’bout to close.”

“She need to come on …”

“Okay?!?”

The potbellied, weaponless Wilkes security guard standing by the door turned toward us and away from the busy street he had spent all day longing and living for.

“Let’s just go ahead and take it for now,” I said while staring at Nakesha. I turned to the nurse before her stubborn ass could open her mouth again. “You can put us down.”

I gave her our names and dragged Nakesha away by one arm. Although she had made me mad earlier, I would have been the second one (after her) to throw a punch had any of those bitches staring us down so much as dared to lay a hand on my friend.

MRS. CARLY RETURNED. ONCE everybody (even the likes of Patty-Cake) was reminded she had missed the month because her husband passed, we decided to be good. We were immediately calmed by a compassion happily rejuvenated, tired of lying dormant, and watching the “me and mine” mentality rule. The usual jerks decided to shut up and stay dumb alone. Those chronic troublemakers too far lost in sadness and madness did us all a favor and skipped every class. Attendance and homework improved. Disruptions subsided, proving they could be eliminated and controlled if we cared enough to do so. Both eager and indifferent hands feigned out notes as Mrs. Carly droned on excitedly like she was on speed. Who knows? Maybe she was. The yearn for knowledge was buried deep within most of our hardened exteriors, though we were all most comfortable pretending that yearn had faded out of style.