by Paul Langan
Homework? I couldn’t remember what my last assignment was even though it was just a day ago. When you’re trying to survive, schoolwork is the first thing you drop. Teachers never seem to understand this.
On my way to school, I passed the parking lot where Frankie split my head open. Seeing it gave me the chills. And I got that gnawing feeling too, the one that tells you something bad is about to happen.
I looked around just to make sure Frankie wasn’t following me. I kept picturing him standing at my front door, my bandana in his hand. The same hand that held a gun to my face. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. Not yet.
At Bluford, I climbed the steps and noticed a few students looking at me funny. One kid was staring right at the stitches along my hairline.
“You got a problem, homes?” I said. The kid shook his head and walked away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. ”
Inside it got worse. It seemed everyone was secretly eyeing me as I walked down the hallway.
“Yo, that’s the dude who got kicked out of his old school for selling drugs,” someone whispered.
“Don’t mess with him. He might be packin’,” someone else mumbled.
Listening to them, you’d think I was one of the terrorists the FBI was always hunting. Rumors in school are like that, spreading like a fire no matter how false they are.
At my locker, I spotted someone familiar coming down the hallway toward me. Vicky. What was I going to do about her? With Hector and Frankie on the street, there was only one answer, and I hated it.
Vicky and me met my first day at Bluford. I noticed her the second I stepped into Mr. Mitchell’s English class. He was in the middle of telling kids not to be late when I walked in with my attitude. My timing was so perfect that a few kids busted out laughing, and I played along. Vicky smiled, and when I saw her I almost forgot how angry I was that my mom had dragged me across the city to Bluford.
“Excuse me, sir, you have a guest,” Steve Morris said, pointing me out to the teacher so he could get a laugh from his friends. I knew right then I didn’t like him.
For a second, everyone stared at me like I was from another planet, like they never saw a kid from the barrio before. At Zamora High, almost everyone was brown like me. Bluford was the opposite, more black kids than anything else, although there were some Latinos, Asians, and a few white kids mixed in. If you ask me, Vicky’s the finest Latina in the school.
I ended up sitting behind her and found myself daydreaming about her soft brown skin and the way her black hair spiraled down her back. Even her laugh sounded pretty. Like music, if you can believe that. My boys would never stop teasing me if I told them this.
“What’s up with you, homes? You gettin’ soft now that you’re sweatin’ that Bluford girl,” Chago would say. It was true. Dude shouldn’t talk, though. When his first girlfriend broke up with him, he got drunk and cried. I never told Frankie because he would have made a big joke out of it. He was cruel like that.
Mr. Mitchell put me and Vicky in a group to go over a homework assignment. We had to write an essay about heroes. Both of us ended up writing about someone in our family. Vicky wrote about her grandmother who died, and I wrote about Huero. I gotta admit it was the first time schoolwork ever helped me meet a girl. But it’s true. When we read each other’s papers, something clicked.
That Saturday, we spent the whole afternoon together. We walked in the park and grabbed some pizza. It was like one of those corny TV shows. But it was nice. For once, I wasn’t the troublemaker who kept getting in fights, the son who almost hit his mom, or the thug about to throw his life away. Instead, I was Martin Luna, the person Vicky liked.
I had such a good time I felt guilty, like I was lying about who I really was. I even tried to tell her about it. It was the first time I was so honest with a girl.
“Vicky, you and me, we’re different from each other,” I had said, looking for the right words. “Really different. ”
“So? ” she said. “What’s that mean?”
“It just seems like you shouldn’t be here with me,” I told her. My face burned when I spoke. If she knew me and my homeboys were planning to shoot someone, she’d never even look at me. I hated being so dishonest, but how could I tell her the truth?
She touched my hand then, just for a half a second. My heart skipped.
“Martin, when I first saw you I was like, ‘Oh no, who is this boy, acting so hard?’ But when you wrote about your brother, you seemed so sad. That’s when I decided I wanted to talk to you. ”
For an instant, I thought she was feeling sorry for me, and I nearly walked away just like that. I don’t want any girl’s pity. I ain’t no one’s charity case. But she stopped me.
“It’s not like that,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear so she could focus on me. She rested her hand on her neck for a second. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “It’s like you’re more real than the guys around here. ”
I couldn’t tell what was real anymore, but I knew I wanted her to always feel that way about me. And in a way, I understood what she was saying. Compared to other girls I knew, she was more real too. Deeper.
But who was I kidding? After what happened with Frankie, everything was different. We had to end things.
I took a deep breath as Vicky approached my locker. For the first time since we met, I didn’t want to see her. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s the opposite. I like her too much to let her get tangled in my mess.
“Martin!” she said, stopping just behind me. “Are you okay? I can’t believe you’re back in school. ” I watched as she struggled not to stare at the stitches on my forehead. “I was so worried about you. ”
Her words burned my insides, like she was poking deep into my chest with a hot iron. Looking at her dark hair, her soft skin, and her concerned eyes, I knew I had to get her as far from me as possible.
Don’t think I’m crazy. It’s what I learned from Huero’s death. If I’d kept him away from me and Frankie, he wouldn’t have been on the street when the bullets were flying. It’s a mistake I won’t make again. The bandana on my door told me everything I needed to know. The only way to keep Vicky safe was to keep her away from me.
“I’m fine, Vicky. Just a little bump on my head. No big thing. ” I shifted my books and tried to hide what I was thinking. She stared at me oddly, her eyes intense and focused like twin spotlights on my face. I wished I could hide myself from her gaze, but there was nowhere to go.
“You scared me yesterday. All I could think about last night was your face and that cut on your head. ” She shook as if the image in her mind hurt her somehow.
“C’mon, Vicky. You know I’m hardheaded. It takes more than a little cut to keep me down. ” One of my books slipped out of my hand and slammed down to the locker floor with a loud crash.
Vicky jumped at the sound and took a deep breath. Overhead the first bell rang, and people in the hallway started rushing off. We had two minutes to get to class. Two minutes for me to force myself to act this way.
“What happened yesterday? You have to tell me. ”
“Just an argument that got a little out of hand. We’re cool now, though,” I said, picking up the textbook and trying to act calm. “It ain’t nothin’ to worry about. ”
She stepped back and cocked her head like I just insulted her. I pretended to organize some things in my locker.
“What’s wrong with you, Martin?”
“What? ”
“You’re acting different. ”
“I’m sorry, Vick, but it’s been a crazy time for me. There’s just a lot of things I need to sort out right now. ”
“You wanna talk to me about it?”
I looked at her, and for a second I didn’t know what to say. Of course, I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to listen to her, and part of me wanted to kiss her right there in the hallway.
But the best thing I could do was to get her to walk away from me, and the only way to do
that was to make her want to leave. Asking her wouldn’t work. She was too stubborn for that. I learned that when Steve Morris and his football player friends jumped me on the street.
“Just leave, Vicky,” I told her when he and his boys climbed out of his car. “Go!” I yelled. But she didn’t budge until my crew showed up and she knew I was safe.
It was all too close. She coulda been punched or stabbed or worse, and it would have been my fault. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened. If it meant I had to lose her to protect her, so be it.
“We gotta get to class,” I said, acting like she meant nothing to me.
Her jaw dropped.
“I don’t understand. What happened to you? Did that bump on the head make you forget Saturday, you know, the day we spent together in the park?”
“I remember everything, Vicky. What do you want me to say?” I asked bitterly. “It’s not like it was that special. It was just a walk, that’s all,” I lied. The truth was that it was the best day I had since Huero died.
Vicky shook her head at me.
I’m so sorry, girl, I wanted to say. But it’s for your own good. Frankie’s coming. You gotta stay away from me.
The second bell rang loudly. We had a minute to get to class. Vicky was never late before, but I could tell she would be today. It was all my fault, but what could I do?
“You’re being such a jerk right now. What’s your problem?”
I got more problems than you know, I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue.
“The only problem I have right now is you, Vicky,” I said and turned away, hating myself.
I left her standing in the hallway alone.
Chapter 4
“It’s about time, Vicky. I told you he’s no good. I don’t know what you saw in him in the first place,” said Teresa, Vicky’s closest friend. I could hear them talking in the hallway as we made our way to English class. Several hours had passed since I told Vicky off. They couldn’t see me in the crowd behind them.
“You don’t even know him—”
“I know he’s nothing but a wannabe gangbanger, and that’s all I need to know,” Teresa said, cutting Vicky off.
Since we met, Teresa did nothing but give me dirty looks. I usually gave them right back ’cause I have no time for snobs.
“That’s why he got beat up, ’cause he’s a jerk and no one likes him,” Teresa scoffed. “I guess he’s not so tough if he got beat up that bad. You’re better off without him. ”
I bit my tongue and kept my mouth shut, but it wasn’t easy. If Teresa wasn’t trying to cheer up Vicky, I would have told her off right there in front of everyone.
“Whatcha talkin’ ’bout, Teresa?” cut in Roylin Bailey, a boy who sat in the back row near me in class. “I heard Martin clocked your boy Steve in Mr. Dooling’s class. I’da paid cash money to see that,” he added.
“Boy, you should save yo’ money so you can buy some sense,” said Tarah Carson, this heavy girl who knew everyone at Bluford. “Besides, it ain’t none of your business, so just stay out of it. ”
“Can you all just drop it?” Vicky snapped as the group reached our classroom. I felt bad she had all this attention, but there was no way I could stand up for her. It would only make things worse.
“Drop what, Vicky?” asked Steve Morris. He came from the other side of the hallway and surprised her.
“Just forget it,” she replied, rolling her eyes and darting into class. I was seconds behind them walking into the classroom.
Teresa was the first person to spot me entering. Her face twisted when our eyes met, like she just looked at a pile of garbage.
“Aw, c’mon, Vicky. Why you gotta be that way?” Steve said as I made my way to my seat. He glanced at me as I sat down, his eyes narrow and angry.
My problems with Steve started in gym class. I watched him slam into this short kid Eric who was playing him strong on the basketball court. Afterward, Steve boasted like he’d beaten Lebron James one-on-one. The rest of the class laughed along even though Eric was hurt. Just like at Zamora, it was the cowards who laughed loudest.
“It don’t take much skill to hit someone half your size,” I said, sick of listening to Steve show off. People in the locker room looked shocked, like I was supposed to be scared just because he’s Bluford’s star running back. Forget that!
The next day, Steve and his boys sucker punched me. I didn’t even see them until I was on my back staring up at Steve’s smirk. I couldn’t let it end like that, so I followed him into the locker room and clocked him. That’s when I got busted for fighting.
At first, no one told Ms. Spencer I hadn’t thrown the first punch. But then Eric and Vicky came forward and told her the truth. Ms. Spencer kicked Steve and four other guys out of this week’s football game. If you ask me, that ain’t even punishment. Who cares about missing a stupid game?
But football’s a big deal at Bluford, and Steve cared. The next day, he came at me again. Me and Vicky were walking down the street when this car whipped around. Next thing I knew, Steve and the four other guys surrounded us. It was five to one, and I was getting nervous, when Frankie and our crew pulled up in his LeMans.
“Hey, homes,” Frankie barked as he got out of his car. “You ain’t havin’ a party without us, are ya?” He then spit a nasty white glob on the ground at Steve’s feet.
Steve and his friends looked like they were about to wet their pants. It would have been funny, except Frankie had that sick smile on his face, the one that told me it was about to get ugly. He was going to put someone in the hospital—or a body bag. That’s when I jumped in.
“He ain’t worth it,” I said, holding Frankie back just long enough for Steve and his crew to get away. I knew things between me and Frankie would go downhill after that, but I just couldn’t watch him ruin another kid, not in my name. Not after everything with Huero.
Steve wasn’t about to thank me for saving his butt, though. I could see that in his eyes as I sat in Mr. Mitchell’s class. Even though he was talking to Vicky, he was looking at me like he was planning something.
“Like I said, Steve, just drop it,” Vicky replied. She started to look back toward me but then stopped herself.
Steve’s jaw tightened up. His leg was twitching like he was ready to pounce. Up until I came along, he and Vicky were friends. They even went out for a few months last year. She told me it was no big deal, though Steve’s eyes always said it was.
“Oh, so now you’re not talking to me?” he asked, glaring at Vicky and then at me. “Don’t tell me you’re still into Sanchez. He’s just gonna drag you down, girl. Like my grandfather used to say, if you lie with dogs, you’re gonna end up with fleas. ”
“Awww snap!” Roylin shouted. “That’s cold, yo. He said Martin’s got fleas!”
My blood started boiling. I was trying to hold on, to let it end this way so Vicky would move on. But I was having trouble. My fingers were purple from squeezing my desk.
“Don’t do this, Steve,” Vicky said.
“Do what? Tell the truth about your new boyfriend?”
“He’s not her boyfriend,” Teresa said. “She hasn’t seen anyone since you two broke up. ”
“I don’t need you to speak for me!” Vicky snapped, flashing an angry glare at Teresa.
“What’s the matter, Vicky. You and Sanchez get in a fight?” Steve asked, a smirk on his face. “That must be where he got all them nasty bruises on his face. Or maybe those are flea bites. ”
I couldn’t sit there anymore.
“You got somethin’ you wanna say to me?” I asked, jumping out of my desk. My chair fell backward with a loud crash, but I didn’t care. Teresa’s jaw dropped like she’d witnessed a crime.
“You better be careful, homes,” Steve replied, a smug grin on his face. “No one’s gonna protect you in here. Not like last time. ”
Anger raced through my veins like fire. The truth was I protected him from Frankie. He knew it, but he was putting up a front,
saving his reputation. I shoved a desk aside and moved toward him, my fists clenched, my pulse pounding like a drum in my forehead.
“Martin, don’t!” Vicky yelled.
I ignored her. In my head, I could see myself smashing the smile off his mouth, breaking his nose. For a second, it was like the whole world had tilted, driving me toward him. Like he was the reason my life had fallen apart. Like hurting him would make it all better.
“Martin!” A deeper voice shouted, snapping me from my thoughts. It was Mr. Mitchell. He’d come into the classroom without us noticing. “Get back to your seat. Now! ”
Dozens of eyes focused on us. Some people, like Vicky, were concerned. But most seemed hungry to watch a fight. You know how school is.
Steve stared at me with a cold, hatefilled smile.
“Whatever,” I said. I walked back to my desk, grabbed my chair, and sat down. My ears were ringing and my hands shook with anger, but I held it in. Barely.
“I will see you after class, Martin,” Mr. Mitchell said and then quietly began taking attendance. The class sighed, and people slowly turned to face the front of the room.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my notebook, and tried to swallow down the rage that still smoldered in my chest.
“Revenge is sweet,” Mr. Mitchell said then, pausing so his words hung in the air. “Is this a true statement? Is revenge a good thing?” he asked, eyeing Steve, me, and the rest of the class. It was one of his trick questions. Everyone looked around for a second to see who was brave enough to answer. I didn’t move.
“Definitely,” Steve spoke up. That grin was on his face again. He even looked over at me. “If someone wrongs me, I’m gonna do what I gotta do to teach him a lesson. ”
“Okay,” Mr. Mitchell replied. “I think a lot of people would agree with you, Steve, although Vicky doesn’t appear to be one of them,” he said turning to her. Her hand was raised, and she looked annoyed.
