Queen of the Pole

Prologue

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

Deja McCoy

“Deja Lanique McCoy,” my entire government name echoed through the arena, letting me know it was finally my turn to cross the stage. I’d sat back and watched over a hundred students get called before me, and now it was all about me.

“That’s my Toooot! Go Toot! That’s auntie baby right there!” my ghetto ass auntie cheered for me in the crowded arena, where the senior graduation was taking place.

“That’s my grandbaby right there!” I could even hear my grandma calling out for me.

Amongst their voices, I heard my godmom Arielle, my godsister Eden, and my little sister, Anari, or Nari for short.

Notice how I mentioned everyone except for a mom, or a dad.

Neither were here. Sad thing is that I didn’t expect neither one of them to show up.

Keep in mind, I lived with my mother. My room was right across from hers, and I purposely kept my door open this morning while I was getting ready because I wanted her to see me as I slipped into my cap and gown for this big moment today.

Granted, my mother and I are nowhere near being anyone’s mother and daughter goals.

We had a terrible relationship. That bitch was sick in the fuckin head, and she treated me as if I was the child that she should have swallowed.

We’ve fought before like bitches on the street.

Hell, I just got into a fight with her last night.

We would fight because she continued to think that I was the same little girl that she used to bully, when I wasn’t anymore.

I fought back these days. I wasn’t going to just sit back, and let her put her hands on me anymore, solely because she felt like it.

She was fighting demons, and often, I would be the one that she took life’s problems out on.

People thought that I was walking this stage right now with my face beat just because it was graduation day, but I was covering up a black eye. A black eye that my mom put there last night.

Even with the fight that happened yesterday, even with all the other disrespectful shit that she’s done to me, and said to me over the years, I still thought that she would come to my graduation, but she didn’t.

As far as my dad, he’s the one whose actions really didn’t surprise me in the least bit.

The man never came around for any of my milestones.

I have one hell of a memory, so I can clock his ass back to kindergarten, so I remember him not being there, either.

He wasn’t there for any of my award ceremonies throughout elementary, or middle.

Didn’t call or show up for any of my birthdays.

According to my mom, he didn’t want to be a father, so he ran off.

That’s the story I was told. I’ve reached an age where I’ve stopped caring.

For eighteen years, this nigga has shown me that he doesn’t give a fuck about me, and I heard him loud and clear.

“Congratulations Ms. McCoy. This has been a long journey, but girl, you made it,” my principal, Mrs. Watson said to me once I made it to her, and it was time for me to shake her hand.

You could tell that I was one of the ones that she was super proud of because not only did she shake my hand, but she pulled me into her, so that she could hug me.

I’ll admit that if it wasn’t for this woman right here, I wouldn’t have graduated high school.

I literally would have dropped out last year.

It wasn’t because I was a dummy or no shit like that, but the concept of getting up every day and coming to a place that I absolutely hated was unmotivating as hell for me.

Plus, I was dealing with real life shit back at home with my mom, so I was never in a good mental standing to deal with school.

The problems that I had at home really affected me my senior year.

I was skipping out on homework assignments, failing tests, skipping school, the whole nine.

Mrs. Watson got on me hard during the 2nd quarter, telling me that if my grades didn’t improve, there was a strong chance that I wasn’t going to be able to graduate.

She gave that long speech to me, telling me that she believed in me, telling me that I had the potential to go to college, and be someone one day.

I knew I didn’t want to go to college though.

If I was fighting for my life to get out of high school, I knew that college wasn’t an option for me.

With that, Mrs. Watson bargained for at least me to do what I had to do in order to graduate high school.

She left college talk alone, accepting that it’s not something that I wanted to do.

Because of her, I was able to go to my teachers whose classes I was failing, ask for some kind of extra credit, and I stopped skipping school. I did what I had to do these last two quarters, and here I am, walking this stage with the rest of my graduating class.

“Thank you Mrs. Watson. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me,” I let her know once we pulled away from each other.

I looked at her one last time, knowing that after today, this would probably be my last time seeing her.

I knew that I wouldn’t be the person to come back and visit my high school years from now.

I knew that Mrs. Watson was a good person.

The plans that I had for after high school, she would never be caught in an atmosphere like that, so we wouldn’t run in the same circle.

This would more than likely be it after today, which is why I wanted to soak up this last look at her before heading back to my seat.

You would have thought that I was a seasoned woman, well into my 40’s because of the way I pranced in these high heels. So many of the girls in my class were wearing heels but were struggling to walk. Crazy thing is half of them were wearing heels that were much shorter than mine.

With a confidence out of this world, knowing that all eyes were on me as I took the steps down, I sashayed my ass to my seat, and while I was doing that, I could see my family in the stands.

They all had shirts on with my name and cap and gown picture.

Custom banners, and big graduation cutout pictures of me, screaming for me.

I was eating that up as I walked past them, smiling, and blowing kisses.

I made it back to my seat, crossed my legs, folded my hands in my lap, as I impatiently waited for the graduation to finish.

It didn’t finish until another forty- five minutes or so.

I stayed quiet most of graduation. I only stood up and made some noise when Dream’s name was called.

Dream was my best friend. Honestly, the only friend that I’ve ever really had.

I’ve known Dream since 3rd grade, and she’s been my girl ever since.

“Graduates, please move your tassels from to left,” Principal Watson finally said those beautiful words that I had been waiting for.

I stood amongst my class, doing what she asked us.

To know me is to know that I wasn’t an emotional person at all.

I was tough. Life was fuckin me continuously, so that played it’s part in why I could handle so much and never shed tears over anything.

Something about this moment though. My own mama has fixed her mouth plenty of times calling me bitches and hoes.

Telling me that I wasn’t going to graduate high school just like she didn’t.

Telling me that I was going to be a teenage mom just like she was.

Telling me that there wasn’t shit special about me, and that I would never make it out of Miami.

Knowing all the odds that were stacked against me, knowing that I came so far to dropping out, but to be standing here with my class, removing my tassel, it caused for one lonely tear to fall. Just as quickly as it fell is just as quickly as I wiped it away.

We threw our caps up in the air, and from there, everyone started jumping up and down, excited that our run with high school was finally over.

We couldn’t just get up and leave though. We had to move out of here row by row. We had to do it the same way that we practiced in rehearsal the other day.

A few rows went before me, and it was finally my turn.

I walked out, happy as hell that it was all over, and once we made it outside of the arena, there were so many people standing out here.

I peered around looking for my family, and during that, I walked past so many daughters who were being embraced by their mothers.

So many mothers that had their arms wrapped around their daughters, loving on them and telling them how proud they were.

I’ve never had that. I can’t tell you a time when my mama hugged me. Remember I said that I can clock shit back to kindergarten, so if I’m saying that I don’t remember a hug since kindergarten, then you have to know that that’s pretty damn sad.

“Toot! We right here boo!” that was my auntie Twan calling me, getting my attention.

Toot was the nickname that she’s called me all my life. I don’t think she ever really calls me Deja. Probably when I piss her off or something like that, but she never calls me by my government name.

My auntie’s real name was Antonisha. I know, ghetto as hell.

Everyone called her Twan though. You really wouldn’t know her real name unless you were family, or one of her close friends.

Her and my mom were identical twins. Literally had the same face, hair texture, skin complexion, body type, everything.

The only thing that was different was their personalities.

My auntie Twan was my second favorite person in the world. First would be my little sister, Nari.