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I swear sometimes I think my life is a reality show and I just don't know it. The only things missing are commercial interruptions and that running thing at the bottom of the screen telling everybody about my mom, my dad and all my family drama. I can see it now, Kenisha Lewis Exits the Fab Lane: The Way it Ain't, in Her Not So Real World. The thing is, I keep waiting for the director to jump out and yell cut when my take's over. But it's not happening. 'Course everything else is. See, my life was clicking along just fine until my dad dropped his bomb that dumped me and my mom at my grandmother's place in D.C. He was tripping as usual. His skank-of-the-month is a hoochie-momma reject with twoalmost threekids. They're supposed to be my sibs. I don't know. Whatever. Anyway, my mom died and I found out about my real sister. Things just went sideways after that.
So now I'm sitting here, waiting in front of the guidance office. My turn is next. I know I'm gonna hear it, but it's not like I really care. I could say it wasn't my fault, but I know it wasat least some of it. I slapped her. But seriously, the shock on her face was worth it. She had the nerve to jump up in my face, so I handled it.
Anyway, a few minutes later my cell vibrates in my pocket. I already know who it is, either Diamond or Jalisa. They're my girls, even if they forget sometimesforget to keep secretsbut we're still tight. They were there when it happenedwhen my mom diedby my side the whole time. You don't forget stuff like that. It was a long, hard summer, and by August things had just crashed and burned. I can't believe I actually thought September would be different, better. It wasn't.
So I give her a blank stare. She is nuts. What does she want me to doopen up, cry, scream, say sorry? It ain't happening. It's like everybody expects me to be different. I'm not. I'm still the same as I was before. It's everybody else who changed.