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Meka.

    GET, GET, GET IT! CRAIG SAYS HELLO DAUGHTER.
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    YO STATUZ IZ SWEET! HAV FUN. CALL ME L8TRZ

    Santana rolled her eyes and the windows down. She wasn’t having fun; she was bored and much too fly to be waiting on a dude. Didn’t he know that by now? Sticking her head out, she surveyed the block, saw that it was relatively empty, wrapped her hand around the handle, and opened the passenger door.
    â€œOh so y’all in love! Ain’t that sweet!” A girl’s voice called out from the driver’s side before Santana could put her foot on the ground.
    Santana whipped her face around and saw a car full of hoodrats and chickenhead girls packed like sardines in a raggedy excuse for a car. One of them stood out from the rest, the one with the biggest mouth and attitude. Nae.
    â€œOh, our boyfriend got you mad?” Nae mocked in a toddler voice. “What happened, you still acting like you too good to go all the way, and now he’s actin’ up?”
    Fire shot though Santana’s veins. “You know what, Nae? You can go ’head wit all that. You know you don’t want none of this. Don’t try to act all bad cuz you got company. My boyfriend is just that, mine .”
    The girls in the car laughed, egging Nae on. “Bet next time you won’t be Facebooking all yo bizness. Bet you didn’t realize your picture showed what skreet you on!”
    â€œGet her, Nae.... We ain’t bring you here just to talk.”
    Nae chimed right in. “Well your boyfriend was mines last night. And I was so, so good to him. Do he tell you dat too? Dat you good to him? Do this sound familiar: ‘Oh, oh, I can’t believe I slept on you. I shoulda got wit you a long time ago, shawty,’ ” Nae said, deepening her voice to sound like Pharaoh.
    That was it. Santana had had enough of backstabbing Nae. She took off her earrings, adjusted her rings to face forward so they could dig into Nae’s skin when she punched her in the face, and hopped out of the car. Nae’s butt kicking was long overdue, and Santana was the one to hand it to her.
    They’d been friends once, or at least that’s what Santana had believed until she got with Pharaoh. After that, Nae had started tripping, acting envious, and “accidentally” telling Pharaoh about boys Santana talked to when he wasn’t around, but never telling him that Santana always kicked down their advances. Then Nae’s envy turned to jealousy, and she no longer just desired to have things like Santana’s, she wanted what Santana had—including Pharaoh. But she’d have to take him if she wanted him, and it wouldn’t be easy. Santana could brawl with the best of them, and Nae wasn’t even close to best or any word starting with a B but one, and it ended in itch—exactly what the wounds Santana planned to inflict on Nae would feel like once they started to heal.
    Santana began to walk around the back of Pharaoh’s car, and suddenly the street began to fill with hoodlums. She didn’t know if Nae had called people ahead of time to tell them what was getting ready to go down or what, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t the one whose skin and behind were going to need a spatula to be scraped up off the street.
    â€œCome on, Nae. You brought it, now bring it. Get out the car!” she dared her, banging on the trunk of the chickenhead-mobile Nae was in. “Come on! I’m inviting you to get that azz whooped.”
    â€œMan, I got twenty bones on Santana!” Some dude with jeans sagging off his butt and dirty, dusty boxers showing said, walking up to some guys while counting money.
    â€œI’ll match that,” another agreed. “Shawty go to skool with my brutha, and she be mopping hallways with heads—boy’s heads at dat!”
    A boy with long, red dreadlocks countered. “Bwoy, please. Me tinks me put me money on de undah-dog. Dat der gal