Page 1 of Kings Fear No One
PROLOGUE - TEYSHA
July 2012
“Teysha Patrice Baxter, get your behind upstairs and go change. Lord knows the last thing I need is for everybody to think I’ve got a fast one for a daughter.”
I glance down at the tank top and shorts I’m wearing. “But, Mama, it’s hot out.”
“I don’t care if it’s 200 degrees out. Put on some proper clothes. I raised you to know better.”
It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes and stomp my feet. I wait ’til I’ve turned around and Mama can no longer see me before I make a sour face.
Texas is in the middle of a record-breaking heatwave, but Mama’s rules are Mama’s rules.
Rain, shine, or unfathomable heat.
It doesn’t matter. I’m to be well-behaved and properly covered at all times.
I should be used to it by now. Last year, at the middle school dance, Mama made me wear a dress that swallowed me up the way a bedsheet would. The other girls sparkled in their cute dresses they’d bought from the mall while I sat frumpy and ignored in a corner.
Once in my room, I toss the tank top and replace it with the kind of baggy t-shirt that’ll get Mama’s stamp of approval. My short shorts meet the same fate—I put on a pair of capri pants that go down to my ankles.
“That’s better,” she says when I show my face downstairs a second time. She steps forward to smooth down some flyaway hairs on my head. “You might think I’m being harsh, Tey Tey. But people talk. This is the big barbecue fundraiser Pastor James is throwing for the church. We need to make a good impression.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And don’t you go pushing your chest out trying to show off for them boys.”
“I don’t push?—”
“Do I need to remind you I’ve got two working eyes, girl?” she interrupts sharply. She tugs on the hem of my baggy t-shirt as if wishing it were a couple sizes larger. “You just had to be big-chested like the women on your father’s side.”
“What’s that about our chests?”
We look up at the sound of Grandma Renae’s voice. She enters the living room clutching the aluminum tray of home-baked biscuits she’ll be bringing to Pastor James’s event.
Mama swats her hand at her. “You know more than anybody. Aren’t you the one always complaining about your back aching?”
“Don’t make the girl more self-conscious than she already is. You’re adorable, Tey Tey.”
I’m not sure what to say.
The mixed signals are nothing new.
Mama has pure intentions, but she can’t seem to follow God’s wisdom about judging people. Grandma Renae tries to smooth things over, but she’s as much of a gossiper as the rest of the people they’re worried about.
And Papa’s oblivious either way. He honks the horn from the front drive. His warning that we have a few seconds to make it out to the car or he’s leaving without us.
I’m silent the whole car ride over to the park.
Gospel music blasts from the stereos that have been set up. Picnic tables line the grassy space. Some used for seating. Others for the buffet-style food set up. Plenty of people have already arrived, mingling and chitchatting. Children chase each other around, squirting water guns and playing hide-and-seek behind trees.
Papa puts the car in park and announces we’ve arrived.
My belly gives a flip.
Wallace Scott stands by the drinks table grabbing a can of coke. He’s grown even taller since school let out and summer break began. I’m not the only one who’s noticed—the other girls in the area are practically his not-so-secret fan club.
I trail behind my parents and Grandma Renae, trying to make up my mind. How can I talk to Wallace without making it so obvious?
