The Right Side of Reckless

by Whitney D. Grandison

  In front of me, Regan expelled a heavy breath.

  “Nice guy,” I remarked.

  She peered back at me, the sadness in her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “Yeah.”

  My gaze fell on her house and then my own. I wasn’t ready to go home yet either.

  “Wanna go for a little walk?” I suggested. “I don’t want to go home yet. Although...I don’t think your mom would like it if she saw us together.”

  Regan kinked up her nose at the thought, but we started walking down the street anyway.

  “I don’t get why my mom gets all bent out of shape about us being near each other,” she confessed. “It’s embarrassing. I mean, I work at the center, it’s not like I haven’t interacted with her probationers before.”

  “Yeah, but it’s probably the nature of my crime.” It wasn’t something I wanted to outright admit to Regan, but there was no hiding who I was as I wore that yellow shirt every time I worked at the center.

  Regan appeared thoughtful, and I feared I’d scared her away. I didn’t want to scare her away.

  She bit her lip. “Avery told me about last night.” She looked my way. “He said you snapped on a guy who was being mean to Jenaya.”

  Throughout the movie I’d been antsy, unable to forgive myself for the slip. Avery was a good kid, and I hadn’t meant to lose my temper in front of him. His mom thought I was a potential good influence, and I’d quickly proved her wrong.

  “He was being rude, makin’ Naya uncomfortable, and I just got fed up. That’s...sorta my problem,” I confessed. “Losing my head over bullshit. Swingin’ instead of takin’ a moment to think things through. It’s all I’ve ever done. It’s how I got here.”

  “Sometimes people lose their tempers. It’s not like you killed anyone, right?”

  I hung my head in shame. “Almost.”

  Regan didn’t flinch, but I noticed the slight pause in her posture. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” I went on. “It’s not like I’d hurt you, but maybe that’s why she freaks out.”

  Regan lifted her eyes to mine. There was no sign of judgment, only curiosity. “Can you tell me what happened, before?” She lowered her gaze. “If it’s not too personal or harsh, I mean.”

  I hadn’t talked about it in full detail in months. My therapist and Harvey, as well as Mrs. London, knew it all in writing, but trying to say it out loud...it was hard to articulate.

  When my family and I lived in Rowling Heights, I’d been wild, fearless, and selfish. One night, it caught up to me in a frenzy of sirens, screams, and lots of blood.

  I guess I knew where to start.

  As we walked down the sidewalk, passing Raviv’s house, I began to paint the picture of my past, hoping my shot at redemption wasn’t slipping away. “I’m from up north, Rowling Heights.”

  “Oh,” Regan noted. “Real suburbia.”

  I snorted. “Nah, this is suburban hell, dimples.”

  “Dimples?” Regan angled her head, eyeing me funny.

  Without thinking, I poked her indentation. “They’re cute.”

  “How do you say it in Spanish?”

  “Hoyuelos,” I told her.

  I watched as she mouthed the word, almost hypnotizing me.

  I was getting distracted, so I went on with my story. “Anyway, Rowling Heights wasn’t so bad, but I chose to be in the streets. It wasn’t like I was out sellin’ dope or nothin’, but I hung around a bunch of questionable characters.”

  “Did they sell drugs?” Regan asked.

  I shook my head, thinking of Shad, Kent, Mouse, and Eduardo. “Nah, my friends didn’t sell drugs either, but they did smoke and drink. It was never my thing, but I hung out with them anyway,” I said. “We used to loiter at this park so much that people would see us and call us ‘park rats.’”

  Regan chuckled a little at the nickname.

  “We hung out after curfew, they’d drink and smoke, and we’d all mess around with girls.”

  Regan appeared quizzical. “Girls, huh?”

  My friends and I, we had a little rep and it made us popular. People knew who we were and what we were capable of. We all wore battle scars from various fights, and that made our image that much grittier. And the girls had loved that shit. I guess you could say we were all handsome, because gettin’ a girl’s interest had never been an issue for any of us.

  This was something my mother disliked about me. She’d witnessed quite a few girls come and go. Carmen, Kayla, Monique, Selena—the list kinda went on. It was all about fun, no one got hurt, and none of it meant anything. Except for Tynesha.

  “Yeah, girls.” Reflecting on it, I said, “It’s kind of the whole reason I’m on probation.”

  The truth was, I’d broken the Bro Code.

  My third arrest was as my much own fault as anyone else’s.

  “One of my best friends, Shad, he had this girlfriend, Tynesha.” I stopped to whistle and shake my head. “She was as bad as they come.”

  Beside me, Regan rolled her eyes. “Hmmph.”

  “Nah, I mean it, she was so pretty, her hair was always done, and her outfits always fit just right. Tynesha had it going on,” I continued. “You’re not supposed to look at your friend’s girl, but I wasn’t blind either. But the thing was, Shad wasn’t even good to Tynesha. He cheated on her all the time, and he was mad disrespectful. He was my best friend, but he was a dickhead.”

  “What happened next?” Regan asked.

  “Tynesha texted me one day because Shad had done something to upset her, and we linked up and hung out. One thing led to another, and I ended up messing around with her. It wasn’t lust for me, I really liked her. She used to fill my head up about wanting to be with me instead, and I fell for it.”

  Regan’s brows crumpled in confusion as she stopped walking. “She was lying?”

  I stared ahead of us down the block as the rest of the events replayed in my head. My fists clenched at my sides. How oblivious had I been? “At the time, it felt real. Like she was really about to leave him for me. She would text me complainin’ about him, tellin’ me how I was so much better—I should’ve known it was all a lie. I wasn’t that much better, I was a mess, too.”

  Regan reached out bravely, placing her hand over my fist, and I jumped. Then I reveled in her soft touch, calming down just a little.

  “It’s okay,” she told me gently, “go on.”

  “We were all at the park one day, and Shad was gettin’ on Tynesha’s nerves, and that’s when she blurted it out. ‘That’s why I’m fuckin’ with Mo!’ It was the way she said it, the look on her face, like she’d done it to get back at him,” I reminisced. “Shad looked at me and he could tell it was true. He blew up, started yelling at Tynesha and getting in her face. One minute he’s yelling, and the next he’s smackin’ her hard and shovin’ her down to the ground.”

  In the heat of the moment, I’d been hurt as I realized Tynesha’s game, but then, without even thinking I’d sprung into action. “I took Shad down and started whaling on him. I couldn’t stop. He’d hit her, and I just fuckin’ lost it.”

  The other guys, Mouse, Kent, and Eduardo, they’d tried to get me off him, but to no avail.

  It took two cops who’d been on patrol to come and pry me off of Shad.

  In the end, it didn’t matter that he’d hit Tynesha. There was so much blood that I got arrested. Shad was really fucked up, broken nose, swollen eyes, hell, I think they mentioned a missing tooth.

  “What really tore me up was walkin’ into that courtroom and seeing Tynesha there by Shad’s side. Through it all, she was with him. I guess I can’t be too mad, because she did admit he hit her. It was my third arrest and it was a violent act, but I managed to get on probation and into the program with your mom. I’m lucky my parents got a good attorney, or else I’d still be in juvie right now.”

&
nbsp; We reached the end of the cul-de-sac, but we had a long walk back.

  Regan just stood there, looking up at me without a hint of fear or judgment in her eyes.

  She still had my hand in hers—in fact, she went as far as to grab my other hand and swing them a little. “I don’t blame you for what you did. Shad’s a punk for hitting Tynesha, and she is awful for leading you on like that. I’m not afraid of you, Guillermo. What happened happened, and what’s important is you learned from it.”

  I felt a warmth spread through my chest. She didn’t judge me. Her response, much like her touch, was soft. Soft Regan, gentle Regan, was nice.

  What I’d done was something I would carry with me for the rest of my life, something I would never forget. That day, I’d relinquished my freedom over a broken heart and a messy situation I’d placed my own self in. I had selfishly ripped my family’s world apart.

  Nunca jamás.

  “Hey.” Regan got my attention. “I don’t care what my mom says, let’s be friends. I look at you and see Guillermo Lozano, and I want you to see me as Regan London. Before doesn’t matter.”

  Her words sank in, and I hadn’t known how much I needed to hear them until then. Or how much I didn’t want this girl to see me as a monster. To know that I wasn’t a monster.

  Regan London wasn’t just any girl. As long as there was a boundary there, a fine line I would not cross, maybe, just maybe, nothing bad could come from being friends.

  I squeezed her hand, ignoring the jolt in my chest at the sensation. “Friends?”

  She squeezed back, and I wondered if she felt something, too. “Friends.”

  Regan

  Troy was the last person I expected to bump into when I opened our front door Saturday morning. Especially after how we left things in Guillermo’s driveway.

  He was standing with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and a forlorn look in his eyes. Nervous waves of energy streamed off him, making him seem jumpy.

  I wasn’t sure what I felt toward him, but I now knew what I didn’t.

  “Hey.” His wounded eyes drank me in. “Can we talk?”

  Folding my arms over my chest, I stood my ground. “I’m going to be late.”

  Troy sighed. “I was worried about you, and then when I come to check on you, you’re with another guy?”

  “I got lost walking around, and Guillermo was nice enough to take me home. That was it.”

  “But that’s just it, Regan. You couldn’t tell me what was wrong before taking off?”

  Here we go again. My heart ached at the fact that this was it. That long gone were the happy moments, replaced with constant grief and arguing. It felt like the end wasn’t near, but it was already here.

  “Troy.” I heaved a sigh, not wanting to do this now, not wanting to possibly break up before my shift at the center. “I gotta go.”

  Troy stepped back. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

  Just then, because the universe clearly hated me, my father stepped into the foyer from the kitchen. His face lit up.

  I was a goner.

  “Troy!” My father could see Troy every day of the week and he still would act as though it was a pleasant surprise to see the boy.

  “What up, Mr. London?” Troy reached out and embraced my father.

  “Nothing much this morning. I was just about to take Rey for some food before her shift,” my father replied.

  Troy placed his hand on my shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take Regan out and see her off.”

  There was no arguing against that. When it came to Troy, my father was too enthralled by his majestic image.

  Sighing, I gathered my things and followed Troy to his car.

  I glanced across the street, wondering if Guillermo were up and if he’d be working today. His story had stayed with me through the night, and even though my mother was against it, I wasn’t backing off; I was going to be his friend. Guillermo was a good guy.

  I could see the lesson learned in his eyes. He was wounded, being branded a delinquent. Some kids, they wore their yellow Respect tees with pride or ease; Guillermo wore his in shame. The path he walked was a weary one, but I respected his intent to improve.

  Troy stopped at Freeze, the local café most teens from Arlington High hung out at because it was just around the corner from the school and across the street from the local public library.

  As we got our food and grabbed a table, I spotted a few kids from school, either working or eating.

  Jenaya Omar was one of them. She was sitting by herself, reading a book and eating some ice cream. Seeing her on her own should have been normal, and yet I looked around for Guillermo and Avery. I’d gotten used to them being together.

  Bad record or not, Guillermo seemed to be having a good influence on my younger brother.

  “So, about last night,” Troy began awkwardly as we sat across from each other.

  I pulled my strawberry soda close—only the best from Freeze—and took a hearty sip as I searched for words. I couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to begin. I bet Jenaya would have no qualms speaking her mind.

  “I’m sorry,” Troy said. “For driving you away.”

  Bravely, I met his eyes. “I’m just not ready for things to go there, Troy.”

  I watched as he swallowed, his attention falling to his bottled water. His hands shook as he held on to it. “You’re scared, I understand.”

  Scared wasn’t the word for it.

  “No.” I put in effort to sound serious. “I’m not scared. I’m just not ready to have sex. Fear has nothing to do with it.” I’d thought about it overnight, and I just couldn’t see myself going all the way with Troy. The thought made me squirm. Perhaps we just needed more time?

  Begrudgingly, Troy nodded. “Okay.”

  “If we’re going to move forward—”

  “If?” Troy reached out and took my hands.

  It was such a sweet gesture, but I felt nothing as I held on to my resolve.

  “I mean it, Troy. If you can’t accept that I’m not ready, then we’re done.” There, I was standing my ground.

  Troy frowned and squeezed my hands slightly in his. “I can’t lose you, Rey. If you’re not ready yet, okay. I’ll wait.” The desperate look in his eyes held me in place as his fingers ran across my hands. “I don’t want to lose you, I love you.”

  Love.

  It almost reminded me of a song.

  I guessed that was enough.

  “I love you, too,” I told him.

  And I guessed I did.

  Guillermo

  Saturday morning, I was finally giving in to Raviv’s constant requests that I play soccer with him.

  We’d hung out after school once, and I’d decided he was straight. Seeing him around and how he moved, it was easy to determine that he was smooth. He liked R&B and pretty girls, and outside of smiling at a few, he seemed faithful to his girlfriend.

  The jury was still out on if that was mutual.

  I wasn’t a huge fan of soccer, unlike most of my family, but I could hang, and since I had the morning off, I decided to loosen up and hang out with Raviv.

  His father, Raz, let me inside, greeting me with a friendly smile and hug once Raviv introduced me. He spoke with a thick accent, and through my curiosity, Raviv clarified that his parents were both from Israel. His father had lived there for most of his life, whereas his mother’s side of the family had come to America when she was a baby.

  “You going to show this one how it’s done?” Raz asked me as Raviv sat on the floor putting on his cleats.

  Raviv puffed up his chest proudly. “Doubt it.”

  To be honest, I doubted it, too. His heart was in the sport; mine wasn’t.

  Raz reached out and patted my back. They seemed to be an affectionate family. “Keep an eye on him,
he needs to be humbled.”

  Raviv rose to his feet. “Not happening, old man.”

  “The mouth on him.” Raz snorted, shaking his head as he walked away.

  Raviv followed me to my Charger and hopped in shotgun, then found a station that played his music of choice. As the featured rapper spat his guest verse, I drove to the nearest playground with a large field for recreational use over in Briar Park.

  “We meeting anyone?” I asked.

  Raviv sat back as he gave a shrug. “Just Andy. Kayde said he might come through. He’s known to flake, so we’ll see. This is just a scrimmage—one of our players twisted his ankle, and like I said, we could use the practice and I know you know how to play.”

  From what little I knew, Raviv and his best friend, Andy Cowell, were soccer prodigies at Arlington High. Both had made the varsity team during their freshman year. They definitely didn’t need “practice” if they were that advanced.

  A pack of cigarettes was sticking out of the hoodie Raviv was wearing, highlighting the irony in his athleticism. “How the hell do you manage to play so good with all that damn smoking you do?”

  Raviv smiled, showing me his surprisingly pearly whites as a cocky gleam lit his olive green eyes. “Just goes to show that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  “How can your parents just let you do it?” My parents had had conniptions apiece when they found out about the weed I’d tried one time.

  “They don’t. My mom’s always sneaking into my room and throwing away my pack. But I just get someone to buy me more. My dad’s more low-key about it, he says I’ll burn out or give up eventually.” Raviv grinned, looking my way. “So we’re going with that route.”

  I shook my head. Cigarettes smelled awful. Not as bad as weed, but they were up there. “How can Camila stand it?”

  I recognized the arrogant smile that washed across Raviv’s face at that moment; it was one I often wore when I was about to brag about something. “I’m a very fun person to be around, smoke and all, Memo.”