1st day of school
“First Day, Same Bullshit”
Yahdae'
“Yah… Yahdae’! Wake up, girl! It’s your first day! Ain’t no being late!” my granny yelled up the steps.
I could hear her shuffling around down there, halfway through her morning routine.
I dragged myself out of my warm California king before she could start fussing or come try to drag me out of it herself, knowing I’ll doze right back off.
I’m just not feeling it though. Ugh.
I’m Yahdae DejaNae’ Robinson—everybody calls me Yah tho, among other things.
Anyway, I’m 5'1", with long, dark brown kinky-coily curls that I’m dying to chop off.
Caramel brown skin, pretty brownish‑red eyes.
My build is more athletic than thick or super curvy, and honestly, I’m glad.
I try to stay covered up and out the way. I’m a pretty girl, but I don’t be out here tryna flaunt it. ’Cause these creepy ass niggas out here already be tryna eye‑rape me as is…
They be don' watched you grow up in the neighborhood, got kids yo age, and everything—don’t care. Weird asses. But anyway, I digress.
---
“Granny, Breakfast, and Bullshit”
Ain’t nobody got time for this shit today.
I grumbled it under my breath, but of course she heard me.
“Hm? What was said?” she asked, all playful, knowing my mouth is terrible and I’m liable to say anything before 8 a.m.
“Nothing! Good morning, ma,” I answered real quick, smiling and tryna slide past.
“Mhm! Quit cussin’!”
Ow!! Okay! Okay!!
I turned on the theatrics when she popped my butt mid‑slide, heading toward the kitchen.
Ole girl swear she be doing something with them lil love taps.
She swear.
Stop hyping her up, you know that shit don’t hurt!
Y’all leave my girl alone, I replied to the voices.
Mornings don’t usually include sitting down for breakfast unless it’s the weekend or she’s off work.
Because of my egg allergy and picky eating—no pork—she had fruit, juice, raisin toast, and protein bars ready for me.
“Thanks, ma.”
“You welcome, suga boo,” she said, rinsing out her favorite mug and setting it on the dish rack. Then she straightened the counter so we could get going.
Yes, we call her Momma. She earned that right long ago.
She raised us and held everything down long before my mom went away.
I ate my fruit and toast on the way, saving my protein bars for lunch.
She gave her yearly pep talk as she drove me to school.
“Okay, Cyn got your schedule. If you need something, ask her or text me. Stay focused, and be good.”
She smoothed my hair back.
“This your senior year, Yahbug. Stand on up here and get this done. Make it count, and have some fun.”
“Have a good day, and don’t get into any trouble. I don’t need these folks calling me today. Understand?”
“Yea…” I mumbled, staring at the unsightly building.
“Oh, excuse you? What was that?”
She cut her eyes at me quick. She really don’t play.
“Yes ma’am,” I corrected, rolling my eyes slyly.
“I saw that! They can meet you there or beat you there!” she said, all sass.
We both snickered.
She let me out at the curb, yelling “I love you!” out the window before heading to her shift at Bon Secours.
Forty years she’s been a nurse there.
Everybody knows, loves, and respects my Granny—D Baby, as the neighborhood calls her.
---
“The Zoo They Call a School”
It’s too damn early for this shit here.
I rolled my eyes, closed the car door, and headed toward the entrance.
The girls up top went off immediately, knowing the sight of this place really repulsed me.
Ugh!! We hate it here.
The inside was even worse. It looked like a damn zoo.
Look at this ghetto shit here!!
Man what!!
Dawg, we ain’t bouta keep standing in this long ass line to get in this raggedy muthafucka. Just gon’ and turn around.
It was loud as hell.
Metal detectors beeping nonstop, catching all kinds of contraband.
Safety officers yelling, arguing, and damn near fighting with students.
Kids in here dressed like it’s the club or a fashion show, but ain’t got school supplies.
This place is a joke — a spot to hook up, fight, and do dumb shit.
Dawg, I can’t wait till it’s over. This place gives me anxiety.
I really don’t like people — only the people that I like — and apparently my intrusive ass voices up top don’t either.
They’re not bad, and I ain’t crazy or no shit like that.
They’re just my emotions n shit, basically. Highly opinionated, funny as hell, and definitely be on bullshit, but we good.
I got a short fuse, a potty mouth, and no filter, but I’m working on it.
I just don’t do dumb shit or dumb ass people who do dumbass shit, among other things… but eh, I digress for now.
Agreed!!
Anyway, I’d had enough just standing in the line.
Mid‑turn, a female guard snatched my bag out my hand.
“Move through the detector!” she yelled, slinging my bag across the table.
The girls up top lost it.
You ugli bitch!
Eww!!
Bitch!! I’m bout to punch dis ugli, weak, bird‑lookin ass.
Rude ass.
Dawg, man hit that hoe Yah, we don’t wanna be here anyway.
Enough. Silence.
See what I mean? Opinionated.
I almost reacted to this bald‑headed, bird‑lookin bitch, but then my granny’s voice played back:
“Try to have a good day.”
So I ain’t say shit.
I smirked, chuckled a lil bit instead.
“I hope yo day get better… or you get a job you like,” I said, walking off laughing.
That actually felt better than the gratification that would’ve come with her blood.
She was 38 hot at my bitch ass, mumbling some fly shit while her partner patted me down — but do I care?
Hell nawll to the nawl nawl nawl.
Heard that shit on the radio in the car, so it was still tickling me.
Aha!! Broke ass hoe!!
Long face ass hoe!
After being patted down like a damn criminal, I headed to the office to get my schedule from Mrs. Adams.
She was helping another student, so I sat down to wait, zoning out, ’cause they was chopping up top.
New snitch alert.
Dawg shut up, she cool.
Mhm, till she ain’t. Telling n shit.
Her and my granny been besties since elementary school, so she definitely be having the rundown on me — but I don’t really care. She good people.
“Yahdae?” she called, snapping me back.
“My fault. Hey Ms. Adams, how you doing this morning?” I grinned, walking up.
“Hey Yahbug! I’m fine, baby, just fine. How are you?” she asked, smiling like she already knew the answer.
“I’m aight. Ready to go already,” I said, giving her our inside‑joke look.
“Chile, you are a mess,” she snickered, handing me my schedule.
“Here. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me.”
“Okay, I won’t. Thank you, girl!” I said, heading out.
Here I am, minding my business, tryna get where I’m going…
I look up and this hoe Rachel is mugging me.
“Do y’all hoes wanna fight?? Is all I’m tryna see,” I asked her, and her lil hoe gang.
My granny’s voice rang out again, and the girls up top reluctantly backed off.
Dawg, I really can’t stand these damn girls, bruh. Like forreal.
“Dawg, you hoes is lucky,” I muttered, mugging them right back, before dipping.
I really am tryna finish strong and stay out of trouble this year.
That’s what my granny asked of me, and that’s what I’m gon’ give her.
--
“Class Schedule & The Crew”
Anyway, I got five classes, and two lunch periods.
1st & 4th hour — Mr. Crawford: U.S. History & African American Studies
2nd — Ms. Lemon: English 7
3rd — Ms. Ector: Algebra 3
5th — Dr. Ray: Weight Training
6th & 7th — Lunch
Dawg, my junk live.
Now see, I know what you’re probably thinking.
That my grades and GPA probably trash.
That I must stay kicked out.
Probably failing out as we speak, right?
Ehh… that would be partly true — but only because of my temper, fighting n stuff, or just not coming, especially when my granny worked doubles. I really just didn’t want to be here.
But I always got all my assignments, makeup work, and homework turned in.
See, I’m very smart — intelligent and all those other words they use for folks with a bright future ahead.
My grades are always good.
I test high on everything I put a pencil or pen to.
I look out for my teachers if they need me to do anything.
Plus, I take all my finals early, ’cause they know my granny ain’t letting me come back. I don’t wanna be here anyway. So it’s a win‑win for everybody.
I really appreciate the staff for messing with me the way they do and wanting me to succeed. So I try to play my part.
My granny ain’t raise no dummy or fool.
And at my base, I’m a good‑hearted ninja — and they know it.
People just don’t know how to mind their business and let me be great.
I hit them stairs like an elliptical, skipping two at a time, headed to Mr. Crawford’s African American Studies class.
He’s been my history teacher all four years, and all we do is take notes on Roots, so you know I’m A+++ status.
I eat, sleep, run errands, and help other kids with tests n stuff — even though it be open book.
Slow asses. Always tryna take a cop‑out on some mess.
How you fail an open book test? IJS — it’s open book for crying out loud. Smdh.
T, one of my best friends, was sitting to my left, earbuds in, jotting in her notepad. Focused.
She moved here from the Chi when we were eight or nine. She’s been doing music longer than that. She sings, makes beats, and raps — my girl got barz too.
Behind me, Branden goofy self was begging for a pen.
I smacked my lips and tossed one behind me.
Dawg, this boy here ain’t never prepared and always playing.
His big‑eared self better break big — comedian, actor, something — or I’m kicking his butt for Ms. Mo, T, Dot, and me.
’Cause he stay on bullshit with
His irri ass , but it don’t even matter, ’cause that’s my brother.
I looked to my right, realizing my right hand, Stacy — SDot — wasn’t beside me.
The door flew open then, hitting the wall, damn near breaking the glass on the raggedy thing…
…and there she was.
My roadie.
Thirty minutes late, cheesing hard as hell.
“What up, my baby!” she said as she slid into her seat, crew‑shaking with us, still cheesing.
“What up, doe! You late, my nig! Fuck you was at?” I asked, giving her a b.s. look, already knowing what was up. Speaking on the subject with our eyes she responded.
“Man, hell yea,” she said, settling in, making me snicker.
“Now I know the rest of the day finna be lit asf. Cus we got most of the same schedule.”
