Growing Yams in London (2 page)

After about a year, Tanisha joined Uncle James in America. I hadn’t seen her since, but now she’d just arrived in London to stay with us before doing her voluntary work in our
grandmother’s old village in Ghana.

As I was about to shove my phone away it beeped again.

Bharti had been my friend for what felt like ages. Along with Mel, she was one of my closest mates. She had an older brother, Tejas, and fancied his best mate, Hitesh.

‘Could you pass me a glass, please?’ said a voice behind me.

‘Sure,’ I said, clicking my phone shut.

I looked up to see a sweaty guy about my age: tall, dark-skinned, with hazel contacts, wearing a Chicago Bulls vest and looking gorgeous. He was sweating as if we were in the middle of July and
not in September. Mel’s parents had the heating on, but it wasn’t that hot in here. Mel and this guy were the only ones in sleeveless tops; Mel was showing off, but it was her birthday.
This guy had no excuse.

‘Thanks, I’m really thirsty,’ he said.

‘Yeah, I can see that,’ I said, watching him gulp down the water in seconds. ‘I said that out loud, didn’t I?’ I added.

‘Yep!’ he said, smiling. ‘Are you a friend of Mel’s?’

‘Yeah, we’ve been friends since nursery . . .’ I began.

‘The CD’s skipping!’ interrupted a guy with red hair and a combination of freckles and acne across his cheeks.

‘Damn! Cheers, Stephen,’ he said, leaving his glass of water behind. The red-haired guy got himself a drink.

‘Excuse me, where’s he rushing off to?’ I asked.

‘He’s the DJ, duh!’ Stephen replied.

‘DJ? But I thought . . .’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied, confused. I left the kitchen and headed into the living room as the sounds of the latest number one track flooded the flat. I was immediately whisked to the
centre of the room with the other dancers by Mel and her cousins. Within seconds we were all screaming ‘
Free!
’ along with the track. I noticed the decks in the far corner, with
multicoloured stage lights that danced across the room.

‘Hey, Makeeda!’ Tanisha said, with a slight American accent, as she suddenly appeared in front of me.

‘Ohmigod!’ I said, hugging her.

‘How do I look – English with a dash of American?’ she said, pirouetting.

‘More like American with a dash of English!’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, you look so different,’ I replied. That was an understatement. The last time I saw Tanisha, she had braces, thick eyebrows, a flat chest and her hair in cornrows with beads. I
stared at her boobs. Either she was wearing a push-up bra, or Uncle James had let her go under the knife.

‘I know, I got them done!’ she said.

‘Seriously?’ I said shocked, staring harder.

‘These are genetic, sweetie, not cosmetic. I meant my teeth!’ Tanisha said, laughing.

‘Hey, the DJ keeps looking over here, and I know he’s not after me, because I already tried.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh Makeeda, puhlease? I gotta maaan!’ Tanisha said in an exaggerated American accent.

She hadn’t completely lost her English accent, so some words came out sounding like a hybrid of both countries. Tanisha showed me a photograph of a guy who looked at least twenty-two.

‘Ohmigod!’ I gasped. ‘He’s gorgeous!’

‘Hmm . . . I guess so.’

‘You guess so?’

‘We had a fight before I came over,’ Tanisha said.

Her expression reminded me of the look she had when anyone mentioned her mother. It wasn’t sad exactly, more a blank look.

‘Oh,’ I said.

I still hadn’t worked out how to break Tanisha’s look and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

‘Seriously, he keeps looking over at you.’

‘No way!’ I said.

‘Do you think he’s cute?’

‘Yeah, but he’s not interested in me,’ I told her.

I only ever attracted weird boys. Never popular ones like the DJ.

‘Hmm . . . we’ll see. Come on, let’s sort out your love life!’ Tanisha said, smiling.

‘What love life?’ I protested as she dragged me towards the DJ. ‘Tanisha, what are you doing?’ I squeaked, attempting to walk in the opposite direction.

It was too late. We were standing to the side of the decks. The heat was so intense I could feel my make-up melting, so I quickly wiped below my lower lids as my mascara wasn’t waterproof.
I noticed tiny beads of sweat slowly travelling from the DJ’s chin to his chest.

‘Makeeda? Makeeda?’ Tanisha said, poking me in the ribs.

‘What?’

‘Ohmigod, just ask him for a song,’

I looked blankly at her.

‘Something that I’d like, not that weird stuff you and Nick call a tune. OK?’

If it wasn’t rap, hip hop or soul, Tanisha’s ears blocked it out.

‘Hi,’ I said, staring at him. He didn’t reply, so I turned to Tanisha. ‘Ohmigod, he’s ignoring me,’ I whispered.

‘No he isn’t. He’s gotta put a track on before he can chat,’ Tanisha whispered back.

‘So, how am I doing?’ he said, shifting his headphone from the ear closest to us. It was lopsided but looked incredibly professional. He was huddled over the decks with an endless
number of cables that stretched like huge tentacles around the room. There were records in three piles and a few CDs.

‘Um . . .’ I hadn’t paid much attention to his deck skills.

‘What, that bad?’ he said, smirking.

Tanisha stepped on my foot.

‘Owwreally good! I mean you’re really good,’ I said, shooting Tanisha a look.

‘Thanks,’ he said, seeming slightly puzzled as I rubbed my foot.

Tanisha gently prodded me and I stopped. I suddenly realised how totally weird I looked.

‘Did you want a song?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ I said, as Tanisha left to say hello to an old friend. “Last Kiss”?’

‘By 221?’ he asked.

I nodded.

‘OK, after this one,’ he said, smiling. His contacts seemed a little brighter when he smiled.

‘Thanks,’ I said, hurrying away.

I realised I must have been staring at him. He had a cute smile, but I wasn’t telling Tanisha. She was always right. Besides, I’d probably blown it, rubbing my foot and stuff.

‘Well?’ Tanisha said, grabbing my arm.

‘Hey, what did you request?’ Mel said, interrupting us.

‘“Last Kiss” by 221.’

‘Ohmigod, that’s a slow song!’ Tanisha said in disgust.

I could tell by the look on her face that Mel felt the same way as Tanisha.

‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ Tanisha said with a grin.

‘Uh huh,’ I said.

‘He’s good looking too,’ Mel added.

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ I lied, pulling my eyes away from him.

‘Yeah, right!’ Mel said, exchanging looks with Tanisha.

‘So why did you choose a tune guaranteed to clear the dance floor?’ Tanisha asked.

Ohmigod! If no one dances, he’ll get a bad reputation and lose work all because I asked for a slow song. Great. I’d totally messed up, and Tanisha was right again!

‘Anyway, I thought your parents wouldn’t let you have a DJ?’ I said, attempting to change the subject.

‘I told them that if I didn’t have a DJ, they’d end up having to send me to therapy for years because I’d be a Norma No Mates. They chose the cheaper option. Anyway, you
should be grateful!’

‘Can’t believe you chose “Last Kiss”,’ Tanisha muttered.

‘What’s the big deal? It’s not like I fancy him or anything!’ I said angrily.

I stormed off towards the balcony. I hated it when everyone assumed they knew how I felt, better than I did. Mel lived on the top floor of a luxury apartment block that had a balcony with
amazing views. I undid the latch and was confronted by a girl with long micro braids, who was kissing a boy with intricate cornrow plaits that criss-crossed his scalp.

‘Sorry,’ I said, embarrassed.

They reluctantly pulled away from each other, and I received a dirty look from the girl and a grin from the boy, as she dragged him back into the living room.

The door closed and the music became a distant thud.

There were two chairs and a small coffee table surrounded by huge plants. I sat and watched rooms in the flats opposite turn shades of yellow and amber as lights were switched on. A cold breeze
swept across the balcony, rustling the plants and sending an icy shiver down my spine. I was freezing.

I heard the door open and felt the music from the living room flow over me, but I stared ahead thinking that Tanisha had probably come to get me.

‘Hey! Your cousin asked me to give you this,’ said a male voice behind me.

I turned to see the DJ. He was holding a blanket.

‘Um, thanks,’ I said taking it from him. I was just grateful that he didn’t attempt to drape it across my shoulders. That would have definitely qualified as what Bharti calls
an RM (romantic moment) or what I call a CM (cheesy moment). I expected him to leave but he took the seat beside me.

‘So, how come you’re out here?’

I got fed up with everyone saying I fancied you! ‘I needed some fresh air,’ I said. ‘What about you?’

I noticed that he had put a black V-neck sweater on. He must think I’m really stupid coming out here in a flimsy cardigan in the middle of the coldest September on record.

‘I . . .’ he began, but we were interrupted by another couple kissing and almost falling over us as they burst through the balcony doors.

‘Sorry, mate!’ the guy said, apologising as they went back into the living room.

‘Is this the kissing place or something? That’s the second couple I’ve seen here!’ I said.

I really shouldn’t have said that out loud. How embarrassing!

‘Er . . . I guess so,’ he said, staring at me.

I looked away. I’d totally killed the moment. What moment? He can’t fancy me?

‘So . . . are you taking a break then?’

‘Yes, no . . . I mean I’ve been looking for you,’ he said, unsure.

This could be it, undying love declared in September on Mel’s balcony. Could this actually be worth freezing my backside off for?

‘I wanted you to request a decent song,’ the DJ said.

A song? Request a song? Not declare undying love then.

‘Well, I’ve had enough of playing the usual stuff, especially Fairytale!’

‘Hold up. You have Fairytale in your collection?’

I was surprised because Fairytale was one of those pop groups who tried to increase the age of their audience but always failed. Delphina, my little sister, loved them.

‘Yeah well, I do kids’ parties too,’ he said, looking sheepish.

‘Ohmigod! You’re a closet fan, aren’t you?’

‘No! Shut up!’ he said, pushing me gently.

‘Yes, you are! I’m going to tell everyone,’ I said, standing up.

He grabbed me around the waist and was just putting his hand over my mouth when we were interrupted.

‘Oh er . . . sorry mate, the CD’s skipping again and I can’t sort it out,’ said the red-haired boy I’d met in the kitchen earlier.

‘Right, I’d better . . .’ he said, releasing me.

‘Sure,’ I said. Ohmigod, ohmigod that was soo cool, although my lip-gloss was seriously smudged.

‘You coming?’ he said, just before he went back in.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, smiling.

As I followed him across the living room, Tanisha pulled me aside.

‘So, you got the blanket, but did you get the boy?’

‘What are you talking about?’ I said, desperately trying to hide my smirk.

‘I wanna know everything, Miss I-don’t-fancy-him!’

Before I could reply, Mel grabbed us for a dance as the latest Lush track flooded the room. Several songs later, Tanisha and I collapsed on to the couch.

‘You don’t think he’ll think that I don’t like him, do you?’

‘Huh?’ asked Tanisha.

‘Well, I didn’t go with him to the decks . . .’

‘Makeeda, what do you know about DJing?’ Tanisha interrupted.

‘Nothing.’

‘Exactly! Stop stressing and get us some drinks,’ Tanisha said, dismissing me.

I wasn’t convinced. I headed for the kitchen and on my way back I was stopped in my tracks by seeing the DJ talking to a girl dressed in stretch jeans, three-inch heels and an
off-the-shoulder top. Every time she moved her head, her long, blond hair with subtle streaks of vanilla, cream, and honey caught the light like something out of a shampoo ad. She turned and I
recognised her. Laura.

‘Who’s that?’ Tanisha said, grabbing the drinks from me.

I could tell she was impressed by Laura’s look. Laura always looked at least ten years older than the rest of us. She was never scruffy, her make-up never melted and it was always subtle
enough to not be noticed at school by any of the teachers. Laura knew things about being a woman that Mel said her sister Shanice was only just working out. Shanice was twenty-two.