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shapes include Christmas trees, wreaths and snowmen. “When I first met Esmeralda I thought she was a godsend. Now I know better, but that lesson came after many years of what I thought was a true friendship.”
    â€œYeah, but that’s different than Nellie using Chance while she’s still jocking Nigel. Not to mention the fact that in the meantime, she hates Mickey and can’t stand me being friends with Chance. Now, how am I supposed to deal with that?” Maybe I should take a batch of cookies to my friends. We could all use some serious chilling out.
    â€œWell, Jayd, you can only save yourself, and you’d better— before your enemies take you down with them. I remember how happy I was to find Esmeralda and our former spiritual family. I thought I’d found my home. But after a few years working with them, I realized they drained people, took people’s last dime, used their vulnerabilities as weaknesses to be exploited, not to mention other ways they took advantage of our clients. I realized quickly that they weren’t really hustlers at all. They were the kind of people that hustled other people, and that’s not a hustler—that’s a pimp.” Mama places the delicate angels on the parchment paper–covered sheet as she looks through the kitchen and across the living room toward Esmeralda’s house. If she could blow Esmeralda up with her eyes, I’m sure Mama would have done so by now.
    â€œWell I never thought I’d call Nellie a pimp, but she’s one cane away from having her lean on point,” I mutter in between bites.
    Mama laughs at the thought of Nellie walking with a limp, but it’s true. Nellie’s got some kind of pimp potion working on Chance and I want some of my own to use for other reasons. Maybe there’s a class I missed somewhere in junior high. All I know is Mickey and Nellie not only signed up for it, but could charge for tutorials.
    â€œIf you want to know about pimping, Netta’s who you need to talk to. Ask her all about this tomorrow at the shop. In the meantime, go wash up and get ready to eat dinner. There’s a plate of food waiting for you on my dresser,” she says, opening the oven to check on the cookies. “You can eat in the spirit room while you study your lessons. I left your assignment on top of the spirit book.”
    Didn’t Mama just hear how tired a sistah is? She looks at me as if to say she’s tired too, and I know she is. But, as Mama also says, a woman’s work is never done. I’ll definitely ask Netta about the hustle tomorrow if I have the energy to remember. Right now, I’ll gladly grub on my dinner and sneak a few more cookies after I’m done. I hope my lessons help me figure out what my next move is with Nellie, Mr. Adewale, and Laura, because I’m getting up this creek called high school with or without my paddle. If I have to crawl on my knees, I’m making it through Drama High, hating females, nosy teachers and all, because I’ve got something they don’t have: a strong lineage mixed with some serious street knowledge.

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    Netta’s Mojo
    â€œA new religion that’ll bring ya to your knees/
Black velvet if you please.”
    â€”ALANNAH MYLES
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    I ’m so glad today is a short day. The only negative about it is that I didn’t get to continue my conversation from yesterday with Mr. Adewale as I’d planned. I want to grill him more about what he thinks he knows about me. He seemed like he wanted to talk to me today as well, but Mrs. Bennett interrupted our Spanish class and took up his ear for the majority of the short period. By the time she was done yapping about nothing much, I’m sure, the bell was about to ring. I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to finish my inquisition.
    Sometimes I wonder what we’d do without teachers’ meetings. Short Tuesdays are what get me through the