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Grown and Sexy at the Coffee Shop

“um, can i help you girls?” The skinny blond hostess with the skyscraper-high legs and the nose bling was clearly a model. All the hostesses and waitresses at the Coffee Shop were models. The fancy diner, located on Sixteenth Street in Man-hattan’s Union Square neighborhood, was a people-watching paradise, where fashionistas, random starlets, and members of the hip-hop industry elite loved to mingle.

No one really ate the food, which was a shame, since the herbed french fries were insane.

A group of fifteen-year-old girls was not usually welcome at the Coffee Shop, especially not ones from Louis Armstrong Academy of Performing and Creative Arts. The prestigious high school for budding superstars was right in the neighborhood, and the students were always hanging out outside the restaurant. The Coffee Shop didn’t like to waste a table on a bunch of loud, obnoxious teens. It just wasn’t a sexy look.

Knowing this, Tangie and her two new friends from Armstrong, Kamillah and Regina, had tried to look as grown-and-sexy as possible. Kamillah, a Harlem-born gossipista who studied drama with Skye, was rocking skinny Seven jeans and cherry-red patent-leather Steve Madden stilettos. Regina, a pretty biracial aspiring filmmaker (her mom was Filipino, her dad black) had let out her signature Pocahontas braids, so her hair was cutely crimped. Meanwhile, Tangie had pulled her out-of-control curls back in a wide black headband (her hair was always about five minutes away from major frizz) and was wearing her favorite H&M sundress over leggings and platform wedges; her toned dancer’s legs were her favorite feature, and the high shoes made them look sick. She even dusted bronzer over her milk chocolate–brown skin and applied mascara. The girls looked fierce!

Too bad they had no idea what they were doing there. All they knew was that they’d each received a mysterious text message a couple of hours ago.

It was Saturday afternoon in the last week of September, and almost a month since Tangie’s first day at the school she’d been dying to go to since birth. Since she’d enrolled at Armstrong as a sophomore, most of the dancers in her classes had a whole year of training on her --- so she had tons of catching up to do. This morning, Tangie had been obsessively marking her Advanced Beginners Hip-hop routine in her bedroom mirror when she got the text message from her best friend since kindergarten, Skye Carmichael. It said: girlz! mt me at cfee shp 4 brunch, 12:30. v. imp! tha res iz under alexa’s name.

And that was it! What made it really weird was that this was the first time anyone had heard from Skye in almost three weeks. Since Friday, September 9, 2005, to be exact. That had been the night of Skye’s drama-filled Back to School party, when she’d had a huge falling-out with Tangie --- among other things. The party had been such a disaster, Skye had practically disappeared, sneaking home for lunch and ignoring her friends in the hallway.

At least Skye had seen to it that they got seated. She’d made a reservation under the name of her mom, Alexa Carmichael, the famous TV actress. She’d played a backstabbing black supermodel on Shoulder Pads, the long-running ’80s nighttime soap about a glamorous modeling agency. Her name was able to get Skye into any restaurant, club, or party in Manhattan.

Must be nice being showbiz royalty, thought Tangie.

“Um, yes, you can help us,” said Tangie, a little nervous to be dealing with one of the infamously bitchy Coffee Shop hostesses. “We actually have a reservation?”

“Oh, really?” The hostess stifled a giggle, her diamond nose ring twinkling.

“She didn’t stutter,” snapped Kamillah, narrowing her eyes at the hostess. She was not the type to take any kind of attitude.

Regina elbowed her discreetly in the ribs, hoping she’d shut up before they were politely thrown out on their asses.

“We have a reservation under Alexa Carmichael? You know, from….”

“From Shoulder Pads? The Alexa Carmichael?” Nose Bling’s entire attitude did a one-eighty. “Holy ish, I, like, grew up watching her! I was Alexa for one Halloween, like, when I was in third grade! Omigod, follow me, I’ll take you guys to the star table --- you know, the big booth in the corner, over there? It’s dope, ’cause you can see everything that’s going on….” She lowered her voice. “…And everyone can see you.”

Tangie, Kamillah, and Regina glanced at each other, beyond excited but trying to look blasé, as if they were used to getting star-table treatment.

“Why, thank you, dahhling, I suppose that table will do,” Kamillah said, putting on the voice she had used the previous year in the freshman production of The Women, when she’d played a billionaire socialite.

Stifling giggles, they followed Nose Bling to the booth, taking in the scene as they went. At a table to the far left, they saw Ne-Yo surrounded by three video-vixen-looking girls. And was that Vanessa Minnillo sitting at the bar? Everywhere they looked, there were beautiful people, true VIPs, and they were going to the star table!

“Have a seat, girls, and your waitress’ll be back to take your order!”

“Oh, we’re expecting one more person,” blurted out Regina. Where was Skye, anyway?

“Well, obviously,” said Nose Bling. “Alexa! I’ll be on the lookout for her. Ciao!”

With that, she spun on her heel and sashayed back to the hostess stand as if she were working a catwalk. Her twig legs looked like they might snap in two.

“This is crazy, y’all!” Kamillah was beside herself. “Crazy! Thank God I wore my Steve Madden heels. They’re knockoffs of the Christian Louboutins Nicole Richie’s rocking in last week’s Us Weekly.”

“I cannot believe we’re sitting at this table. It’s like we’re on display or something.” Tangie fiddled with her hair, always worried that her ringlets were getting too, well, poufy. She hoped Skye would hurry up and get there before everyone realized they were total frauds. How dumb was Nose Bling? Why would a bunch of kids be meeting Alexa Carmichael at the Coffee Shop?

Meanwhile, Regina pulled a pen and a tiny, battered spiral notebook out of her Dooney & Bourke bag, and began furiously scribbling.

“Oh, hell, no, Reggie-Reg,” hissed Kamillah. “You’re so not taking notes in here. We’re supposed to be looking grown and sexy, not like we’re in AP History.” She tried to grab the journal, but Regina snatched it away.

“I can’t help it if I’m devoted to my art.” Regina was constantly taking notes. By senior year, she hoped to have filmed a documentary about the performing-arts schoolkids, so it was very important for her to remember every detail of their lives. Plus, she’d promised Skye that she’d ghostwrite her memoirs once she became a famous actress --- and her exhaustive notes would come in handy for that.

“Where is Skye?” Tangie was getting impatient. “I’m dying to know why she brought us here. It’d better be to apologize for how she treated me at her party.”

“How about how she dissed all of us, after her party?” Kamillah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I get that she was embarrassed that it bombed, but that ain’t my fault.”

“Well, I hope she gets here soon,” said Tangie, looking toward the door.

“You know Skye’s always gotta make an entrance.” Regina looked up from her notebook and smiled dreamily, thinking about her. Her girl-crush on Skye was a well-known thing.

Feeling antsy, Tangie scanned the restaurant, thinking maybe Skye hadn’t seen them come in and was waiting over by the wavy, groovy-looking bar. There was no sign of Skye, but Tangie did see someone she recognized. A spiky-haired, honey-skinned waitress was behind the bar at the register, typing up someone’s bill. Shocked, Tangie grabbed Kamillah’s arm.

“Omigod, don’t be obvious, but look over at the bar. Isn’t that Naima? Is she waitressing?”

“Naima who?” Kamillah craned her neck to stare at the girl. “Wait, what’s her major?”

“What? No, Naima, from America’s Next Top Model! Look, she’s right over there, bringing a check to that table. See her?”

“Oh, Naima Naima! Hold up, an America’s Next Top Model winner should not be waitressing, that’s just wrong.”

“It’s not Naima, it’s her twin sister,” said Regina, without looking up from her notebook; she was an encyclopedia of random information. “I read in Page Six that she worked here. Her name’s Nia.”

“I really hope it ain’t Naima, ’cause that’d be too embarrassing.” Kamillah shook her head in disgust. “I don’t care how slow my career is going; once I become famous you will not catch me working at a restaurant. If you’re a star and your career’s floundering, you’re supposed to just disappear for a minute. Then, when you come back, you say you were taking time off to ‘find your center’ and ‘grow spiritually.’”

Tangie nodded slowly, thinking. “You know what? Maybe that’s why Skye’s been so incognito these past three weeks.”

“She’s been finding her center?” Regina looked confused.

“No, she’s been on the low, regrouping, ’cause her Back to School party was such a mess,” Tangie said.

“…On so many levels,” murmured Kamillah.

“Right,” Tangie said, “and I guess she wanted to lie low until everybody stopped talking about it.”

“I know she’s been mad shady, but I actually kinda feel bad for Skye,” said Regina, shrugging sheepishly.

“Shocker,” said Kamillah, adjusting her heart-shaped door-knocker earrings.

“For real, though. You know how dead serious she takes her parties,” Tangie said.

Regina was right. Skye’d been so amped about her Back to School Jump Off. Right up until Kamillah got into that very unsexy knock-down, drag-out girl-fight with Izzy, the mysterious new freshman with the shady past that nobody could stop gossiping about. On top of that, Skye was convinced that her crush, Nick, the sexy new white boy in her Southern Playwrights class, had spent the whole party flirting with Regina (which couldn’t have been further from the truth). And the worst part? Tangie and Skye ended up in the worst fight they’d had since they were five, and Skye insisted that Ginuwine could dance better than Tangie’s crush, Sisqó. And now, neither one was going to be the first to speak.

“…Still, I don’t see why Skye’s been so damn D.L,” said Kamillah, fiddling with one of her supercute Afro-puffs. “After that crazy bitch Izzy jumped me, I’m the one that should be hiding out. I’ve gone through two tubes of Mederma trying to fade that scratch by my nose! Seriously, Tangie, I don’t know what you see in her.”

“I still can’t believe I missed that,” said Tangie, shaking her head. She felt kind of bad that she hadn’t been there to defend Izzy. If she’d been in the kitchen when it all went down, she would’ve stopped it. After all, Tangie and the controversial freshman had been insta-friends ever since they met a month earlier at Orientation. Which was crazy, because they were so different --- Tangie was a good girl who never drank or smoked and who lived to dance, while Izzy was a dangerously sexy Ethiopian-born artist with a faux hawk, a notebook full of rhymes, and a shady past.

Well, they did have one thing in common.

When they met on the first day of school, Tangie had quickly realized that Izzy was dating her lifelong BFF and undercover soul mate, C.J. (the two had met over the summer, while Tangie was away at dance camp and during one of her infamous spats with C.J.). Despite feeling she could tell Izzy anything --- even stuff about her mom, like how Tangie hadn’t seen or heard from her since her mother had taken off to join a German ballet company seven years earlier --- Tangie couldn’t bring herself to be open about C.J. How they weren’t just friends. How he had painted a beautiful mural on the wall of his project building and dedicated it to her. How he’d cried in her arms the night his grandma almost died. How he was her first kiss. How she got all tingly if he so much as brushed up against her arm….

Oh, the drama.

“All I’m saying is, your girl Izzy’s lucky I was twisted, or I would’ve knocked that cubic zirconia stud out her nose. You think I’m playin’.” Kamillah pounded the table for emphasis, the silverware clanking together. At the next table, an important-looking man in an expensive suit looked at her and made a face.

“Okay, yeah, she was out of line,” said Tangie, snapping out of her daze. “But can you imagine? Izzy’s brand-new at Armstrong, and there you were, telling everyone she used to be homeless! Seriously, it’s humiliating.”

“Please, girl. Don’t cry for Izzy. Ever since I outed her shady-ass past, the whole damned school’s been obsessed with her. I don’t know what’s so fascinating about a girl who wears gold liquid liner and ran away from home to join a rap group and used to live in a filthy commune under a bridge.”

“That’s not fascinating?” Regina rolled her eyes.

Kamilla ignored her. “Y’all heard about that weird Indian kid, right? The one that started a stalkerazzi blog called Izzy Breezy Beautiful?”

Regina nodded, her eyes wide. “Oh, yeah, I know! He writes crazy, psycho stuff, like At ten forty-five, I saw Izzy eating Cheetos in the art hall. Or Today, Izzy wore striped leggings and red feather earrings.”

“She finally caught him spying on her yesterday.” Tangie shook her head, her spirals bouncing. “Apparently, he’s a journalism major, and he wants to submit his blog to Star as a clip when he graduates.”

The guy was clearly nuts, but Tangie understood why he was so into Izzy. She was an original. She stood out without even trying, and that was a big deal at a school where folks were working their asses off to be famous.

She almost couldn’t blame C.J. for going with her. Almost.

“Okay, now I’m starting to get worried,” said Regina, her almond-shaped eyes widening. “We’ve been here for twenty minutes. What if something happened to Skye?”

“Stop buggin’, she’s fine.” Kamillah waved her away. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re all concerned. Out of all of us, she’s the most mad at you.”

“Please, Kammie. Her neighbors called the police after your girl-fight!”

“So? You stole Nick from her, and you know how much she likes that boy.”

“I didn’t steal Nick. We’re just friends.”

“For years Beyoncé insisted that she and Jay were only friends.” Kamillah shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Look, Nick’s faithful to his girl back in DC, that’s why he and Skye aren’t happening. It’s got nothing to do with her --- or me. If he didn’t have a girl, he’d be all over her.” Regina gulped down her water, her eyes darting from Kamillah to Tangie. She was a terrible liar.

They went back to arguing about who Skye was most mad at, until Tangie finally interrupted them. “She’s the most mad at me,” she said glumly, staring into her water glass.

“Oh, yeah,” said Regina, nodding in agreement. “’Cause you messed with her sister’s ex-boyfriend, the first week of school.”

“We hardly even ‘messed,’” said Tangie, her cheeks flushing maroon. “Trey was my hip-hop dance tutor, and we just kissed, like, three times. We didn’t even go out out anywhere.”

“I never understood Skye getting mad at that,” said Kamillah. “I mean, yeah, Trey dated Skye’s sister, Eden, for, like, four years, and yeah, they were like the black, high school version of Brangelina, but whatever. They’re so done.”

“Skye worships Eden, though,” said Regina, always quick to defend her idol.

“So? It’s not like Tangie was trying to take Eden’s place or anything. The boy was her tutor.”

But that’s exactly what Skye had said to her during their terrible fight at her party. “You can’t just sweep in and be the new Eden! Wake up, Tangie --- Trey will never make you his girlfriend.” So harsh, right? The funny thing was, Tangie never really believed that a boy on Trey’s level would take her seriously, either. She knew she was cute --- well, if you minused the badonkadonk and the frizz --- but she was just a sophomore. And a virgin. And definitely not enough woman for a gorgeous senior --- a b-boy and hip-hop dancing god --- like Trey Stevens.

Besides, wasn’t the whole point to make C.J. jealous, anyway?

Tangie didn’t say any of this to Regina or Kamillah. It was weird, but after a whole month at school, she still felt as if they were Skye’s friends, not hers. Skye’d had a whole year to bond with them before Tangie got to Armstrong. Tangie was still the new girl, trying to find her place in the It chicks clique. Or, as Skye called them, the…

“Superbad bee-yatches! I see you!”

The three girls whipped their heads around to the front of the restaurant, and there was Skye. Decked out in a Chloe eyelet minidress and gold Sigerson Morrison flats, she pushed past Naima/Nia and rushed toward their table. She looked fantastic. Everyone in the Coffee Shop was staring at her, even Ne-Yo. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were shining, and she was grinning as if she hadn’t seen her friends in thirty years.

Squealing, she slid into the booth on Tangie’s side and threw her arms around her best friend’s neck, kissing her on the cheek. Before Tangie could open her mouth to speak, Skye lunged across the table and planted a loud, dramatic kiss first on Kamillah’s cheek and then Regina’s. Once she’d left smears of bronzy lip gloss on everyone’s faces, she sat back in the booth, downed Regina’s water, then spoke.

“What’s good, y’all?”

Tangie, Kamillah, and Regina looked at one another, totally confused.

“What do you mean, what’s good?” Tangie couldn’t believe her nerve. “Skye, where have you been? You haven’t talked to any of us in, like…”

“I know, I know. Since my party. I’ve been a hot mess, girls, believe it. And I want to apologize for how I acted. You three are my best friends—especially you, Tangie; you’re like a sister to me, you know that.” Skye put her hand over her heart and bit her bottom lip, trying to look sincere. It was working, actually.
Not for nothing, the girl was a damned good actress.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” said Regina, practically hopping up and down in her seat with happiness. She was just glad Skye was talking to her again. “You were under a lot of stress. I mean, throwing a party can take a lot out of you.”

Yeah, right, thought Tangie. It’s right up there with running the New York Marathon, or taking the SATs.

“Right? I mean, I really took the whole thing way too seriously. Listen, I don’t want any more beef in the streets. I need you guys. Are we cool?” She flagged down a waitress from across the restaurant.

“Of course! You know we love you to death.” Regina reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Please, I was just worried about you, girl, ’cause you were so MIA,” said Kamillah, relieved that things were back to normal. She was all for drama in other people’s lives, just not hers.

They all glanced expectantly at Tangie, waiting for her to respond. She was just sitting there, twirling a straw wrapper around her finger and frowning. Something feels really off, she thought. Regina and Kamillah had known Skye for only a year, but she’d known that girl her whole life --- and it was obvious that there was something behind this apology. Her change of heart was a little too out of nowhere. And hello? Were they supposed to gloss over how terribly Skye had acted at her Back to School party?

But for now, she’d fake it.

“Yeah, I guess we’re cool,” Tangie said reluctantly, with a weak smile.

“I’m so-o-o glad! ‘Cause my world’s about to get mad crazy, and I need to know my girls have my back. You know, to keep me humble.”

“Wait, why’s your world about to get crazy?” Kamillah’s emerald-lined eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

“Well, I have huge news.”

Here it is, thought Tangie. The reason she wanted to see us today. What’s the point of having good news if your friends aren’t there to gloat to?

“I just found out I’m going to star in an episode of Sixteen Candles! On MVN! My very own episode! The party’s two weeks from Monday!”

As if on cue, Skye’s three friends simultaneously screamed, “What?” Sixteen Candles was one of Music Video Network’s hottest reality shows! Each episode followed a very rich, very spoiled girl --- usually the daughter of famous parents --- as she planned an over-the-top, extravagant, Sweet Sixteen party. Each episode tried to top the last, but they all shared a few basic elements: the nail-bitingly intense invitation ceremony (those excluded usually ended up in tears); the birthday girl’s “grand entrance” (the most memorable was a girl who parachuted down to her party, the wind blowing her extensions clean off her head); a surprise performance by a famous singer or group; and, at the end of the party, the presentation to the star by her parents of a gorgeous car (usually a BMW, and always wrapped in a red ribbon).

But most importantly, the show had single-handedly turned all of its girls into bona fide reality stars. And Skye would be one of them!

Tangie was totally in shock. “Hold up, your birthday isn’t until the end of October!”

“Yeah, I know, but Alexa knows the VP of programming at MVN --- they take a tap dancing class together, or something!” Skye was talking a mile a minute; she could barely catch her breath. “Anyway, she said they really needed an episode about a black girl, like, as soon as possible, ’cause they need some diversity. So, here I am!”

“Stop playin’! You’re kidding me, right?” Kamillah looked as if she had won the lottery.

Regina immediately began scribbling in her notebook, grinning madly. “Skye, this is huge! I can’t believe…I mean, this is so huge!”

“I know, I know! I’m gonna have the most bomb-ass, sickest party ever. A total extravaganza! And I want you three to be in on it with me. Bee-yatches, we’re gonna be famous, famous, famous!”

“Congratulations, Skye,” said Tangie, hugging her. She was happy for Skye, but there was an uncomfortable, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t easy all of a sudden to forget how Skye had hated on her for seeing Trey. Or how, during the weeks Skye wasn’t speaking to her, she’d felt alone and horrible and had to socially fend for herself at a brand-new, hypercompetitive, stressful-beyond-belief school --- and as a result, she felt closer to Izzy, a girl she’d known for a month, than to Skye, who was basically her sister. But whatever. For the sake of not being petty, she’d forgive her.

But forget? That was a different story.

Excerpted from SIXTEEN CANDLES © Copyright 2011 by Tia Williams. Reprinted with permission by Jump at the Sun, an imprint of Hyperion Books for Children. All rights reserved.

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