"Relaxed," he said, holding her hand. "I'm here to protect you."
Qadira giggled. Dwayne had good taste. He was trouble, same as all the other boys from the block. It would start wonderful, end with her belly popped.
"This place stinks," Dwayne said. "Did you wash our uniforms?"
"Heck no," Qadira said. "You need to clean them and have the kids run practice."
"I'll get them," he said, dropping her hand.
"Remember, I'm a monitor," said Qadira sliding her case to the office. Inside the office a chair tilted to the right with a desk. When she tossed her case on top the desk, it wobbled. Ignoring the teetering, she pulled out her English homework. Tide detergent scent soap vanished the musty odor of the building.
This place got a bell, Qadira thought, passing through the corridor. It had to be connected to the back door. She crossed over the gym floor to reach it. A few of the middle school boys had arrived attempting shots. The gymnasium needed a running fan to make it not a health hazard with thick perspiration and hot air. Then she could call this a good hang out, enjoying the lay back atmosphere and being in charge.
Opening the door, Qadira had been fronted with Khalilah and Ayesha, her annoying sidekick. They took up positions on each side of the door frame. They were each her shadow. Both of them had popped up on Qadira a lot.
"You've got something to eat in here," asked Khalilah.
"Yeah, we do," Qadira said. "Ayesha's mom dropped off some leftover food from her catering."
Ayesha the ghetto queen with teased curls and gold trapezoid pierced earrings flaunted herself in those tight fitted see through tops with a pair of jeans. Where she found the rogue-colored bra? Her breasts looked like oranges on top of her enlarging gut. The baby lost in it somewhere.
"Can we get some of it?" Khalilah asked.
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