About K My Name is Kendra
Author: Kamichi Jackson
Genre: Young Adult
Fifteen-year-old Kendra James’ life begins to spiral out of control with the return of her long-lost runaway sister Meisha, and the visit of a young celebrity uncle with questionable intentions. Things take a particular turn for the worse when that uncle exploits Kendra’s loneliness and untreated depression and makes a move on her that sends her world into a tailspin from which she’s not sure she’ll ever recover. Will she survive this tragedy…or will she hit rock-bottom before anyone even notices?
The Return of Meisha
I think someone is stalking me.
I say this, not because I’m paranoid, but because I’ve been seeing the same strange car outside my house almost every other day for the past two weeks. I haven’t told anyone but Nita about it. She thinks I should call the police or something, but what are they going to do? Whoever is inside the car hasn’t done or said anything to me, so what would I be reporting?
Of course that could change. I realize that today when I step outside onto the front steps of my school. This could be the afternoon that changes everything.
“What’s wrong?” Nita asks as I stop dead in my tracks, almost tripping this kid walking on my heels.
There it is again. The same black car with the tinted windows. I recognize it right away because it has two small dents in the back door and a bright red ball on the tip of the antenna. I still can’t see who is inside, and I can’t tell if the person is even looking my way, but it’s definitely the same car.
“What’s wrong?” Nita asks again. She looks across the street. “Is that it?” she asks and I nod.
“I need to know,” I say as I step down off the curb. The car starts to move forward and I wave and scream for it to stop. It does, and I keep running towards it, even though I hear Nita yelling behind me that I shouldn’t go. She catches up to me and pulls on my sleeve, yanking me back before I reach the car.
“Even three-year-olds know not to talk to strangers, Kendra!” she warns. “Come on, girl. Let’s go.”
I know she’s right and I sigh, letting her lead me away. There’s a buzzing noise behind us as we’re walking, and I can tell the driver is opening the window now.
“Keep going!” Nita whispers, her grip on me getting tighter.
All of a sudden I hear my name called out from behind me. Nita and I both stop. She looks at me. We turn at the same time and step forward a little bit towards the car. I hear ding ding ding as the door opens, and a lady’s leg—rockin’ the fiercest thigh-high boot I think I’ve ever seen in my life—hits the pavement, and then the rest of the woman slides out from behind the wheel.
“Who are you?” Nita asks her, not letting go of my arm.
“My name is Meisha,” the young woman replies to Nita, but she’s not looking at her. She’s looking straight at me.
“She’s my sister,” I add, my voice so low I can barely hear myself saying the words.