Upgrade U

Book 0: Ni-Ni Girl Chronicles

by Ni-Ni Simone

Genres: Young Adult; YA Social Themes

Synopsis

Life is poppin' and seventeen-year-old Seven McKnight is rockin' Stiles University's hottest baller, Josiah Whitaker, on her arm when it all falls apart. With groupies threatening her basketball wife status and Josiah's dreams of the NBA blowing up his ego, Seven finds herself in a tailspin. . .should she stay or leave? In steps the unbelievably fine sophomore heartthrob, Zaire St. James, who's been watching Seven and waiting for his chance. With Josiah doing his own thing, Seven finds herself falling for Zaire. But just when she decides to give Zaire her everything, Josiah becomes determined to win Seven back by any means necessary. . . Praise for Ni-Ni Simone "Ni-Ni Simone's fast-paced writing keeps me coming back for more." --L. Divine, author of the Drama High series "Simone tells authentic stories of teen life in the 'hood better than any other author currently writing contemporary YA street lit. Spiced with plenty of Simone's trademark humor." -- Library Journal on Teenage Love Affair "Urban teen readers may recognize their friends and themselves in the language, music and feel of this fluffy-but-fun read." -- Kirkus Reviews on If I Was Your Girl

Release date: March 1, 2011

Publisher: K-Teen/Dafina

Print pages: 288

Sample

What’s higher than number one?—BEYONCÉ FT. JAY-Z, “UPGRADE U”

Stiles University, Big Easy, USA

“Seven, promise me you’ll call home every week. Okay? You hear me?” my mother said, as the tears she held back caused her words to tremble. She palmed my face softly between her hands and kissed my forehead. “I’m never too far away—”

“To tap dat azz,” Cousin Shake said as he walked into my dorm room, holding a stack of two cardboard boxes in his hands and nodding his head to the side for emphasis. “That’s what’s wrong witcha now, yo mama babies you too much. But see, I know your tricks, homie. And I know that you applied to a college far away from home, so you could get your hoochie off in peace”—he dropped the boxes on the floor—“but ain’t gon’ be no peace. ‘Cause I’m gon’ send somebody to keep a watch on you.”

“All right, Cousin Shake,” my mother said sternly. “

Grier,you know I love da kids,” Cousin Shake said, and as he spoke, the seat of his metallic gold MC Hammer pants flapped with every word. And the taco meat on his chest—that he so proudly showcased by wearing no shirt beneath his matching gold vest—seemed to get tighter by the moment.Ugg, I just wanted him to leave!

“Why are you looking at me like that, Seven?” Cousin Shake said. “Huh? I’ll tell you why, ‘cause you know that I see right through you.”

“Cousin Shake, behave” was my mother’s failed attempt to get this sixty-year-old throwback to listen to someone besides himself.

“You don’t tell me to behave, Grier,” Cousin Shake admonished. “I raised you. Now, all I’m doing is making a point.”

“And what’s that?” I said with a little more edge than I should’ve.

“Watch your tone, Seven,” my mother warned. “What’s your point, Cousin Shake?”

“My point is”—he turned to me—“that just ‘cause you in the Big Easy, Seven, don’t mean you have to be the big easy. Feel me? I mean, you still big, but you don’t have to be all easy, greasy, and handing over your goodies to every Tom, Raheem, and Josiah, just ‘cause me and your mama’s up in Brick City.”

What?

“Cousin Shake,” my mother snapped. “That’s a bit much.”

“See?” Cousin Shake snorted. “That’s her problem—you spoil this girl too much.”

“This is my baby.” My mother hugged me tightly. “And she’s never been this far away from home or me before.”

“Ma, I’ll be fine.” After all, this wasn’t my first time in college. I went to Spellman for half a semester, until my stepfather lost his job and we had to move from Atlanta back to Jersey. But that didn’t last for too long, because I was seriously on my grind. I was turning eighteen and had big dreams. Dreams that only going to college would afford me. So while my twin sister, Toi, stayed close to home and attended NJIT, I applied to Stiles U, and courtesy of my good grades and perfect SAT scores I was awarded a full academic scholarship. So me, along with my BFF, Shae—who also transferred from Spellman—arrived in the Crescent City ready to roll.

“I’m here!” Shae screamed running into our dorm room. She ran over to me and said, “Girl, it’s some cuties up in here, honey. Told you southern boys were the truth!”

Obviously Shae ran in here so fast she didn’t realize we weren’t alone. “Shae—”

“Seven,” she said, not letting me get a word in, “I couldn’t wait to shake my daddy at the gate. We got to the registration office and I was like, ‘Dad, seriously I got it from here. I handed my stuff to Big Country and waved bye-bye to Samuel Parker. Whew!” She wiped invisible sweat from her brow. “How’d you ditch your blockers?”

“She didn’t,” my mother said, causing Shae to halt in her spot.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Shae mouthed, as she slowly turned around and gave my mother a small wave.

“I was trying to tell you to shut up,” I mumbled.

“Told you,” Cousin Shake said, wagging his finger at us. “From cute lil sweet Jersey girls to nasty Louisiana—”

“All right, Cousin Shake,” my mother said, as Shae walked over and gave her a hug. “These are good girls and New Orleans is one of the greatest cultural cities in the world.”

“Yawn,” Cousin Shake said, as if he could not care less.

“Mama!” poured from down the hall and toward our room. “Could you please stop trippin'? You acting like I’ve moved to Arizona, Utah, or California somewhere, I’m back home, in N’awlins. And from the time we stayed in Houston until I applied to go away to college, we’ve talked about this … over and over again….Dang.” Whoever this was, stopped in our doorway, looked up at the numbers on the door, and nodded her head like she was in the right place.The woman standing beside her wore the same look of sadness and worry that my mother did and the six-foot-tall man who stood behind them looked to be as bored as Cousin Shake.

“Wassup, round? How ya livin', yat? I’m Khya.” She batted her extended lashes and flipped her one-sided Rihanna-esque bob, with blond streaks running through it, from over her left eye to behind her respective ear. She placed her hands on what looked to be about a size-sixteen hips, complimented by a small waist and a rump shaker that would put Nicki Minaj to shame.

Khya continued on with her spiel. “Seems we already got two things in common: late acceptance and registration. ‘Cause according to the RA’s Facebook status”—she looked at her BlackBerry for a quick moment and then back to us—“that’s how they choose who was gon’ be sharing the triple dorms.”

Khya slammed her hot pink and floral Coach shoulder bag on top of a desk, and without missing a beat or taking a breath she continued, “It’s ‘bout to be crunk, ya heardz me? I can look at y’all and tell y’all good people. So since we ‘bout to be roommates, ya might as well hit ya girl with some introductions.”

True story: I didn’t know what the heck just blew in here. Even Cousin Shake looked confused. This chick’s New Orleans accent was thicker than you could ever imagine or wrap your ears around hearing.

“Y’all must be from up north,” Khya said, “ ‘cause y’all lookin’ at me like ya slow. Now what’s good?”

Was that an insult? I stopped my eyes from blinking and did my best to wipe the confused look off of my face. I walked over to her, with Shae beside me, and said, “Hey girl, I’m Seven and this is Shae.”

“Wassup, ma?” Shae said.

Khya blinked. “Oh my, y’all got some serious New York accents on y’all.”

Did she just talk about somebody’s accent? And she’s standing here sounding like Lil Wayne’s ex-wife, Toya.

“Actually, we’re from Jersey,” I said.

“Nawl,” Cousin Shake interjected. “Actually, we’re from Earth, where we speak English.”

“Oh, you so funny and cute.” Khya laughed. “You look just like 1982. Who is this, your great-granddaddy? He needed a walk or something, a day out of the home?”

“Yep,” I said, laughing. “That’s exactly who he is.”

“Be quiet, Seven.” My mother twisted her lips at me and then turned to Khya and her family and said, “I’m Grier, Seven’s mother, and this is my cousin, Cousin Shake.”

“I’m Toni.” Khya’s mother sniffed and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Nice to meet you, and this is my husband, Kyle.”

“It’s hard, I know,” my mother said, and I could tell she was swallowing tears. “But we have to let them go.”

“I’ve been telling her this since forever,” Kyle said.

“I know, Kyle,” Toni said, with tears bubbling in her eyes. “But she’s my baby.”

“Oh, Toni,” my mother joined in, “I said the same thing.” She was now dabbing her eyes too.

“Looka here, Mama,” Khya said. “Listen, you call me tomorrow, okay? ‘Cause I really would like to get settled into my room.”

“Give me kisses first.”

“Mama!” Khya arched her eyebrows in embarrassment. “Would you stop?”

“Kisses,” her mother insisted.

“Mama, I’m not—”

“Get yo behind over there and kiss your mama, girl,” Cousin Shake growled. “And you too, Seven. Y’all better be lucky you got mamas, somebody that can tolerate you. ‘Cause I’ma tell you the truth, I don’t like kids, I fight ‘em. Now give me a reason to handle you”—he looked at Khya—“and I’ma show you what 1982 was really about. Now try me. Go kiss yo mama, like I said. And do it now, ‘cause I don’t have much time. I need to go and meet my wife Minnie. She’s at the hotel waiting for me, so we can get our flash on and get thrown some beads on Bourbon Street.”

I don’t know about anyone else, but the visual of Cousin Shake and Miss Minnie flashing anybody was about to make me throw up in my mouth.

Khya and I walked over to our mothers, hugged and kissed them, and as if they’d practiced it, they simultaneously said, “I love you. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.” Toni sniffed. “I’ma go now.”

“Me too,” my mother said. “Come on, Toni, we can walk out together.”

Khya gave her father a hug. “Don’t forget to get me some tickets for the basketball games, baby girl,” he said.

“Okay, Daddy.” Khya kissed her father on the cheek, and then he left. That’s when we realized that Cousin Shake was still there.

“You can leave too.” I tried my best not to snap, but the mere sight of him lingering around caused my blood pressure to rise.

“Who you talkin’ to, Fat Mama?” he growled, calling me by my childhood nickname. “Girl, don’t make me handle you. Now your mama may have ran outta here like she’s crazy, but I’m not leaving until we pray.”

Oh hell to da nawl! “Cousin Shake, that won’t be necessary,” I insisted.

“What?” He frowned. “Don’t make me put my thang down on you. Since when you start refusing prayer?”

“You know how he is,” Shae mumbled. “Now let’s just bow our heads and get this over with.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I grabbed Khya’s hand and said, “Come on, roommate, we in this together.”

Reluctantly we bowed our heads and Cousin Shake began. “Our Father, Who art in Heaven, wassup, bruh? How’s Julio, Mary, Margaret, Paul, Radio-Raheem, and er'-body? I know I ain’t been to You in a minute, Lawd, but You know, like Fat Joe says, ‘If it ain’t about money why we wastin’ time?’ ‘Cause moneeeeey’s,” Cousin Shake started to sing, “always on my mind. You can believe that I be where the G’s at—”

“Cousin Shake!” I said sternly.

“Who you yelling at?” he said. “You know when I get to talking about Julio, I get a lil carried away—”

“Who is Julio?” Khya whispered to me.

“Jesus,” I mumbled. “Just roll with it.”

“Oh my …”

“Now, Father,” Cousin Shake’s prayer continued, “please look over these girls and remind them of what Your word says, remind them of Your seven commandos.”

“It’s commandments,” Khya interjected, “and it’s ten, not seven.”

“You correcting me, Karate?”

“It’s Khya.” Khya attempted to enunciate her name for Cousin Shake, “K-Y, the h is silent, the y makes a long I sound, and then there’s the sound of ya. Khya.”

Cousin Shake moved his fingers as if he were speaking in sign language. “Are you cra-ay-zee, interrupting me during prayer time?” Cousin Shake snorted. “Let me tell you something, Cashew. Don’t sleep on me. I might be sixty-two, but I will bring it to you. Ya heardz me? Now, as long as you rooming with these two, then you part of the family. I’ma send you care packages, just like I’ma send them. I’ma send you a ten-dollar allowance just like they gon’ get.

“ ‘Cause in college I know y’all don’t have no money. And I’ma be here for you when you need me and to mess you up when you get outta line, but don’t try me. ‘Cause I’m lookin’ for a reason to unleash my aggression.” He squinted. “Word to the mother-son-cousin. Now bow yo dam’yum heads.”

“Just do it,” I whispered to Khya. “Trust me he only gets worse.”

We bowed our heads again.

“Like I said,” Cousin Shake went on, “Lawd, remind them of the five comrades: Thou shalt not bear thou goodies for nobody. Thou shalt not steal time away from thou homework to get thou skeezin’ on. Thou shalt not come home without calling first, because thou room will be turned into a love den for Big Daddy Shake and his Minnie. Thou shalt get a J-O-B. And lastly, thou shalt know that Cousin Shake loves you and he will never be too far away if you need him.” He sniffed. “Hallelujah. Amen.”

Was he crying? Ugg! Just when I couldn’t stand him, he acts human. “Awwl, Cousin Shake, I love you too!” I said, giving him a hug.

“Me too!” Shae joined in.

“Me three!” Khya said, completing our group hug.

A few seconds later, Cousin Shake said, “All right, get up off me now. Minnie don’t like too much perfume in my taco meat.”

Yuck! I promise you I couldn’t stand him. He walked toward the door and hit us with a two-finger peace sign. “Deuces,” he said and a few minutes later he was gone.

He on some other sh*t.—LUMIDEE FT. PITBULL, “CRAZY”

I have to stop calling him.

But I can’t believe he hasn’t returned my text.

So what? I don’t give a damn.

Yes, I do.

Puhlease, two can play that game.

But he said he would be here to help me move in.

Where is he?

Maybe he didn’t make it to campus yet.

He’s a ball player. He’s always on campus.

Maybe my text didn’t go through.

Yeah, right, out of the five hundred I sent, not even one went through? He got ‘em.

Prove it.

Fail.

Seriously, I was buggin'. I sat on the edge of my unmade twin-sized bed, in a sea of cardboard boxes, while Q 93.3 FM serenaded us during our pre-party preparation. Khya sorted through her makeup bag, picking out the right eye shadow. Shae laid True Religion jeans, a hot-pink ribbed tank top, and stilettos across the foot of her bed—all while I straight fronted like going to this party was the most pressing thing on my mind.

But it wasn’t.

I hated that I played myself like this. I really wanted to enjoy this moment. I mean, seriously, my freshman year of freedom was just beginning, and the hottest Big Easy bounce party was about to go down. I needed to be practicing my booty bounce, not sitting here with a grip on my cell phone, praying it would ring or signal that I had a text message.

“So when are you going to get dressed?” Shae asked, sliding gloss across her lips.

“Yeah, really,” Khya said as she applied mascara, “ ‘cause we fidda catch da wall, bey-be.”

What did she say? “Khya.” I laughed. “Catch a who?”

“Da wall, honey. It means—”

“Get your groove on,” Shae interjected. “So get up and stop thinking about Josiah.” She pointed to my cell phone.

“Who’s Josiah?” Khya asked, while she looked in the mirror and blew kisses at herself. “I am so sexy.” She turned away from the mirror and said, “Now tell me, who is Josiah?”

“Seven’s boo,” Shae volunteered.

“All right now.” Khya snapped her fingers. “You miss him, Seven? Where’s he at, in Jersey?” She sat on the edge of the dresser.

At this point I wish he was in Jersey…. Then at least I would understand not hearing from him.

“No, he’s—”

“Right on campus, girl,” Shae snapped.

Oh no, she didn’t.

“Oh hell nawl!” Khya said. “What’s his name again? Jamil?”

“No, Josiah,” I said.

“Well, he sounds like Jamil.”

“Who’s Jamil?”

“My ex-boyfriend,” Khya said. “Being on the same campus and not calling is something he would do.”

“I never said I haven’t heard from Josiah.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Shae said, pointing to my phone.

If looks could kill Shae would be laid out on the floor. “You need to fall back, fa’real.”

“Girl, please.” Shae smiled at me. “You know I love you. Now, come on ‘cause my baby, Big Country, is throwing a slammin’ part’tay.”

“Yes, he is!” Khya hopped off the dresser and turned up the radio where Sissy Nobby screamed about a spinning top. Khya placed her hands on the wall and proceeded to break down the art of a Big Easy bounce.

“Don’t stop, get-it—get-it!” Shae jumped up and joined Khya, both of them shaking their bottoms as if their be-hinds were having multiple seizures.

Okay, so, despite how I really felt, I had to jump off the bed and join them. After all, attached to my size-fourteen hips was more than enough rump to spin. Not to mention Shae wasn’t really doing the dance that well. And since she was my homegirl, I wanted to show her how it’s supposed to go down.

“First of all,” I said, half smiling and half smirking, “this is how it’s done.” I did a Beyoncé pop, swept the floor with it, and bounced my booty like I was a New Orleans native and not a transplant.

“Dang, girl!” Khya said, shocked. “No, but you killin’ it. Put you on some super-tight-tight-glued-on jeans, a cleavage-busting tee, and we’re sure to leave Big Country’s party with so many numbers that you’ll be like ‘Josiah who?’ Come on now, just for tonight, Josiah don’t even matter.”

Heck, maybe she was right. Josiah didn’t matter … at least for tonight.

“All right.” I picked out my gear for the party. “Time to get dressed,” I said and headed into the bathroom.

Before I stepped into the shower I did all I could to ward off thoughts of calling Josiah again … but I couldn’t fight it. I had to call him at least one more time. The problem was that one time turned into two … and two times turned into too many, especially when they were all met by his voice mail.

So, forget it. I showered quickly and headed back into the room with Shae and Khya.

As I dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a Ni-Ni Simone original T-shirt that read, DRAMA RULES EVERYTHING AROUND ME, Shae, Khya, and I talked about everything under the sun. From Khya’s family remaining in Houston after Hurricane Katrina, to Shae saying how happy she was that her mother was in a drug treatment program, and me talking about how my relationship with my daddy was the best it’s ever been.

We chatted away like old friends and yet there was only one problem I could see: the unsettling feeling that washed over me and forced me to think that maybe … I really needed to skip the party and stay in our room … just in case Josiah came knocking…

Don’t even think about calling me crazy You know you peeped that lady …

—BRANDY,“WHO IS SHE TO U”

I did my best to get my top model on as my stilettos clicked across the floor … but it was hard, especially since Big Country’s tight dorm room was packed from the door to the walls. And the party didn’t stop there. People lined the hallway and spilled into the adjacent dorm rooms. Actually the entire floor was crunk; and Melvin, a.k.a. Big Country “Da Stunna” was the DJ, and his soul mate, Shae, grooved right next to him.

I did all I could to curb my thoughts about Josiah, especially since Shae and Khya were taking 10th Ward Buck’s advice on how to catch da wall.

A few minutes into me forcing myself to smile instead of rolling my eyes and slowly walking back toward depression, “Girl, what da hell you ovah here lookin’ like a chap fo'?” floated over my shoulder.

That was Khya. She stopped her booty from bouncing long enough to step to me and say, “Looka here.” She frowned. “Ain’t no mishaps in dis crew.” She paused, and as Big Country switched the music from 10th . . .