Growing Yams in London (9 page)

I’d been stressing about this date for days. So far, the closest Nelson and I got to a second kiss was when he met me at the bus stop, and that was a peck on the lips. I
was beginning to think that he really was going to dump me.

We jumped off the bus and began the walk to the music shop in Edgware.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ I replied.

‘I just prefer this shop to the big chains. It’s just as good,’ Nelson said, staring at me. I smiled back.

Actually I was impressed. I mean I never think about stuff like that. Bharti and I always head for the coffee shop that’s part of a chain, instead of the smaller one. It just looks more
inviting and has real sofas.

We walked past a couple huddled against the wind and my mind drifted back to the all important second kiss. I’d read in one of my magazines that the second kiss counted more than the
first, because the first was almost forgotten once it happened. I was also stressing about my essay. It wasn’t really easy, but I wasn’t finding it a total nightmare either. My only
problem was Mrs Hipman’s reaction. The essay plan I’d submitted was on Mary Seacole and not Yaa Asantewaa. So I knew I’d be in trouble as soon as she read my title.

‘Are you OK?’ Nelson asked.

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Nothing, you just seem to be miles away,’ he said.

‘Nah, I’m right here,’ I lied.

I decided not to tell Nelson about my essay situation. I didn’t want him thinking he was going out with a nerd. That’s if we were actually going out with each other. Without that
second kiss, it was hard to tell.

‘Good,’ he said, and slipped his hand in mine.

We arrived at the shop and Nelson immediately disappeared into the new releases whilst I just milled around.

‘Hey, have you heard this?’ Nelson asked, thrusting an old Motown LP in front of me.

‘I . . .’

‘I love this song!’ Nelson said.

I watched as the biggest grin spread across his face and lit up his eyes.

‘I haven’t heard it before,’ I said.

Before I knew it, we were in a sound booth and he’d placed headphones on me. He gently slipped his arms around my waist and I felt his scarf tickle my neck. I was happy, until he kissed me
lightly on the lips and I realised it was just another peck. The song began to fade out and I replaced the headphones.

‘Well?’ he asked, helping me out of the booth.

‘It’s . . .’

‘I love it! It’s my favourite song. Well, one of them!’ he said enthusiastically.

It was the first time I’d heard him sound so happy.

‘I liked it,’ I replied.

Instantly I realised that I’d given him a less than enthusiastic response. He just looked at me oddly.

‘You don’t have to lie. If you hated it, you can say so.’

‘No, no, I like it! I just realised that I’ve heard it before. My dad played it once, but I never knew who sung it,’ I said and hoped that it was enough.

‘Oh, right.’

‘So how come it’s so important to you?’

‘My mum and I used to sing it to each other when I was little.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Yeah, well we used to anyway . . .’ he said, then looked away.

‘What do you mean?’ I could sense that there was more to it, but I wasn’t sure if I sounded nosy in asking.

‘She and my dad have separated. I live with my dad, and my sister lives with her,’ he explained.

‘Oh,’ I said. I wasn’t sure what to do. Do you say I’m sorry to hear that? Anyway, I was a bit weirded out by his dramatic mood swing. I could hear it in his voice.

‘I don’t miss the arguments or anything, but . . .’

‘What?’ I asked.

Ohmigod, I’m so nosy! I wish I could stop treating people like characters in a soap!

‘Well . . . she never went to my first gig.’

‘Really?’ I asked, shocked. That seemed really mean but I was hardly going to tell him that.

‘Basically, she hates everything to do with my DJing.’

‘Wow, that’s harsh!’ I said. I suddenly realised I’d called his mum harsh.

‘I know. She expects me to be all academic like her and my grandfather back in Africa and become a barrister. My sister’s doing A-levels so she can study law, but that’s not
enough for mum: everyone’s got to do it!’ he said furiously.

I could see that we were beginning to attract some stares from other people in the shop.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. That sounded so lame – like something a teacher might say. ‘I know what you mean though,’ I added.

‘I bet your mum’s really nice,’ he said, giving me a smile.

‘She can be, when I’m not around,’ I said, thinking about Tanisha.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied.

I’d only ever told Bharti and Nick about the stuff with Mum and even they didn’t know the full story. I wasn’t comfortable having to rake it all up again.

‘Maybe your mum will change her mind,’ I said, hopefully.

‘I don’t think so, Makeeda,’ he said, angrily heading to the cashier.

I wasn’t sure what else to say. I guess I was confused. How could he be so happy one minute, then sad the next? We left the shop in silence, but he still slipped his hand into mine. I was
cold but I was glad I hadn’t worn my gloves.

‘Hey! You’re African!’ I said suddenly. It was really high pitched so I immediately cringed.

‘Last time I looked, and Brazilian.’ He smiled at me again.

‘Really?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, my mum’s from Togo and my dad’s from Brazil. You’re African, right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, my family’s Ghanaian and a quarter Lebanese.’

‘A quarter?’

‘Yeah, I have three Ghanaian grandparents and one mixed-race grandmother.’

‘Makeeda, that’s not a quarter.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, but a quarter sounds better,’ I said.

‘You’re funny!’ said Nelson, laughing.

‘Er . . . funny weird, or funny ha ha?’ I asked.

‘Definitely weird!’ he said, grinning.

‘So rude!’ I said and hit his arm.

‘Ouch! I’ll get you back for that! Do you want to go to Harrow for something to eat?’ he asked, as we approached Edgware station.

‘Um . . . yeah, OK. Hey!’ He’d just taken my hairband out of my hair.

‘Come on, there’s our bus!’ he said, running ahead of me.

I ran after him and only caught up because there was a queue. Mel might have been right about me needing more exercise.

‘Here you go,’ he said, giving back my hairband.

I was too out of breath to respond.

‘You should leave it down. It looks nice,’ he added.

‘Thanks,’ I replied, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The last thing I wanted to do was to whack him in the eye again with my renegade braids.

We climbed the stairs to the upper deck of the 340 and sat at the rear of the bus.

This is it! I thought. Back seat of a bus equals second kiss, (those pecks don’t count). Ohmigod, I hope I don’t mess this up. What if I bite his tongue or something?

‘Makeeda? I . . .’ Nelson said, as a woman came and sat two seats away from us.

‘Yeah?’

‘Um . . . nothing,’ he said.

OK that was weird. Why did she have to sit so close? There were like twenty other empty seats and she had to get within earshot of us.

We sat in silence until the woman got off in Stanmore.

‘Come here. Why are you sitting all the way over there?’ he said and patted the empty seat between us.

Hmm . . . let me see, I thought. I could be annoyed because you don’t seem to want to kiss me or just too flaming nervous to sit closer to you!

‘No reason,’ I lied.

He leaned in close to me and I could feel his breath over my face. My heart was pounding so hard that I actually held my breath. I was surprised: the closer he got, the more his breathing became
erratic. My eyes closed and I waited. I felt him pull away, so I opened my eyes to find him looking out of the window.

What was going on with him? I didn’t just imagine it – he
was
going to kiss me! So why was he ignoring me?

‘Nelson, I . . .’ I began, but I was interrupted by a voice coming from the stairs.

‘Hey, DJ Nelson!’ said a mixed-raced boy in a blue puffa jacket and a baseball cap heading towards us.

He was followed by Stephen, the red-haired boy from Mel’s party, and a tall, thin black boy dressed smartly in a black coat, trousers and shoes.

‘All right?’ said the smartly dressed boy, nodding towards me.

I smiled back.

‘We weren’t interrupting anything, were we?’ said the boy with the baseball cap.

‘Shut up, Jordan,’ Stephen said.

‘Why? Isn’t she the one . . .?’ Jordan began.

‘Leave it, Jordan,’ said the tall thin one.

‘All I was going to say was, isn’t this the girl Nelson’s been . . .’ Jordan began.

Been what? Had he been talking about me?

‘I don’t believe it! Jordan man, can’t you stop running your mouth for a second?’ said the tall, thin boy.

‘Makeeda, this is Hakeem, and you’ve met Stephen, right?’ Nelson said.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, smiling at Stephen.

Jordan coughed loudly.

‘Oh yeah, and motor-mouth over there is Jordan,’ Nelson said, pointing at the boy with the baseball cap.

‘So where are you two off to then?’ Jordan asked.

‘Harrow,’ Nelson said.

‘Cool, fancy some company?’ Jordan added.

‘I don’t think so!’ Nelson said sternly.

‘Man, you must have been dropped as a baby!’ Stephen said to Jordan.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Hakeem asked.

‘What?’ Jordan said, looking confused.

‘Would you take your mates along if you were out with your girl?’ Hakeem asked him.

‘Well . . . they look bored. Maybe I could help break the ice . . .’ Jordan began.

‘More like shatter it!’ Stephen said, making us laugh.

‘Shut up! Ginga minger!’ Jordan said.

‘Here we go,’ Nelson muttered.

‘Listen, at least when the laydeez see me, they don’t forget. You look like every other brother with that hair. Actually scratch that, you wished you looked like every other
brother!’ Stephen said, swiping Jordan’s hat from his head.

Jordan tried desperately to conceal his uneven afro but we’d all seen it.

‘That’s out of order!’ Jordan said angrily.

‘Bro, sort that out! Please?’ Nelson said, smirking.

‘My sister keeps promising to braid it but keeps cancelling,’ Jordan moaned.

‘Find someone else then!’ Nelson said.

‘Don’t suppose you know how to . . .’ Jordan said to me.

‘Er . . . no. I don’t,’ I replied.

I was pretty much hopeless at plaiting hair. Mum tried to teach me using Delphina’s hair, but gave up and ended up combing out all the knots my plaits had made. Delphina still believes I
did it on purpose.

‘Oh, I just thought maybe you’d prefer to run your fingers through a real afro!’ Jordan said.

Ohmigod, he’s flirting with me! In front of Nelson too!

‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘You can’t say stuff like that to your mate’s girl! You were definitely dropped as a baby!’ Hakeem said, whacking Jordan’s cap.

‘You know what, Jordan? With hair as dodgy as that, you couldn’t even get a granny to give you a smile,’ Nelson said and we all began laughing.

‘Hey, it’s our stop!’ Jordan said, jumping up.

‘Jordan, you better not take long. My shift starts in half an hour!’ Hakeem said.

‘Where are you going?’ Nelson asked.

‘Oh we’re going to find a barber in Wealdstone for Jordan,’ Stephen said, making us laugh again.

‘Shut up, man. It’s not that bad!’ Jordan said, racing down the stairs.

‘Yeah well, he can’t see the bits peeking out below that cap,’ Hakeem added.

‘I’ll give you a shout tonight!’ Stephen said, smirking at Nelson. ‘See ya, Makeeda!’ he added.

‘Bye!’ Hakeem said, racing after them.

As the upper deck became silent once more, I wondered about Hakeem.

‘Hey, how come Hakeem works?’

‘Oh, he’s sixteen. He has to support his mum and little sister.’

‘Oh.’

‘His dad left them about two years ago . . .’ Nelson began.

The noise outside interrupted him.

‘Hey, Nelson!’ screamed a voice outside.

We stared out of the window to see Jordan.

‘Are you two going to snog all the way to Harrow?’ he asked.

‘Ohmigod!’ I said.

‘Jordan!’ Hakeem said, whacking him on his hat again.

‘Ahh . . . come on, you know they want to . . .’ Jordan began.

I stared at the huge queue of people getting on to the bus. Some of them were our age and enjoying the scene.

‘I’m going to kill him!’ Nelson muttered.

‘Hey, if you’re going upstairs, give the lovebirds some space!’ Jordan called out, laughing.

‘Jordan man, that’s so wrong!’ Stephen said, trying to shut him up.

I pulled myself away from the window, closed my eyes and sunk into my seat. I was hoping that my head wasn’t visible, even to the people sitting ahead of us. I wanted to die. This was
beyond embarrassment. I felt like I was being punished for every single lie I’d ever told.

As the bus pulled away from the stop, I could still hear Jordan shouting.

I slowly opened my eyes and turned towards Nelson. He too had crouched down in his seat – quite an achievement for someone of his height. I could hear the sniggers of a group of girls our
age, a few rows ahead of us.

‘I am so sorry,’ Nelson said, looking at me.

‘It’s OK,’ I said, and he surprised me by giving me a peck on the lips. It would have been more than that, if we hadn’t got the mwah-mwah kissing sounds from the girls
sitting ahead of us. Once again, Nelson looked out of the window, while I gave them a dirty look before grabbing my book from my bag.

I was beginning to think that Nelson didn’t want to kiss me, when he slipped his hand in mine. He was still looking out of the window, but I saw him smirking at me through his reflection
in the glass.

Fifteen minutes later we were standing in the middle of Harrow debating where to eat.

‘The Chicken Hut?’

Tanisha had warned me about eating chicken with my fingers on early dates.

‘No.’

‘Makeeda, where
do
you want to eat?’