by Paul Langan
“But when does it end?” Vicky cut in. “I mean if someone does something to you, and you do something back. Then the person just wants to get back at you, and it goes on forever. How does that solve anything?”
Steve was silent for a second. “Hey, I’m just bein’ real. That’s just the way it is. If people can’t handle it, they shoulda never started trouble to begin with,” he said.
“But what if someone gets in your face when you’re doing something wrong? Are you going to get revenge then when it was your mistake that started everything?” Vicky cut back, her words sharp as blades. Though she said no names, I knew she was talking about how I called Steve out for hitting Eric. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t make mistakes. ”
Some students laughed. Even Steve smiled with a look that said Vicky proved her point. I loved seeing her in action. Her almond eyes were so intense you could almost feel heat from her stare.
“Easy, Vicky,” Mr. Mitchell said. “What Vicky is showing us is that revenge can be messy. Very messy. What we are about to read in this class is a messy revenge story. One which involves lies, betrayal, violence, even murder—”
“Sounds like a day in the ’hood,”
Roylin said, and a few students laughed.
“Nope, it’s Hamlet, a 400-year-old play that is as rough as anything we’ve seen in the movies or read in this class. ”
A few kids rolled their eyes as Mr. Mitchell started passing out books to each of us. The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare. I flipped through my copy. It was filled with old-fashioned words like in my mother’s Bible. Thou and thine. Who can read that stuff?
The word Hamlet seemed stupid to me too. Like the name of a sandwich or something. But the way Mr. Mitchell described it made it seem interesting. A revenge story involving a murder. It sounded too familiar.
The next thing I knew, Mitchell had the class reading a scene out loud. There was this ghost of someone who had been killed. He was begging for his son Hamlet to catch his murderer.
“Avenge me,” he said over and over again. Even though it was 400 years old, I knew the meaning of the words. I lived them every day when I thought about Huero and the coward who shot him.
At the end of class, I was reading ahead, slowly connecting the strange words like pieces in a large puzzle.
“Martin, what happened today?” Mr. Mitchell asked as soon as the class emptied. He closed the door so no one could hear us. His voice was almost angry. I didn’t want to hear a lecture, not after Steve started with me. That boy was asking for it.
“Huh?” I said, playing dumb.
“Don’t give me ‘huh,’ Martin. I’m done playing with you. You are skating on thin ice in this school—”
“So? You think I’m just gonna sit there and let someone diss me? That ain’t hap’nin’. ”
“Martin, listen to me for a second. I’m talking to you man-to-man now. ”
“Oh, so now we’re gonna be friends? Wassup, homes! Go ahead, Mr. Mitchell. Let’s be for real,” I snapped, unable to stop the anger spilling from my lips. I know it wasn’t his fault, but I just couldn’t take it. My mom, Frankie, Vicky, Steve, and now him. It was just too much.
“Martin—”
“What do you want me to say? Sorry, Mr. Mitchell, I was wrong to stand up in class. Next time I promise to sit there like a punk and let him bust on me,” I said, checking my anger before it went too far. “Look, Mr. Mitchell. I gotta go. ”
He did something that struck me then, something that hurt.
His eyes dropped, his shoulders slumped forward, and then he nodded.
“Go,” he said quietly. “Get out of here. ”
That second, he looked defeated. It was like I had truly exhausted him. I knew I was pushing him away, but I guess I was testing him, hoping he wouldn’t give up, trusting that someone still believed in me. Anyone.
You are talented and have potential, Martin, he had said the other day. I held those words like a lifeline when Frankie was hitting me. They led me back to Bluford, made me contact Officer Ramirez, gave me hope that there was more for me than streets where brothers die.
“Maybe you were wrong about me, you know, what you said the other day. ” I could feel my anger thawing for a second, sense the ocean of sadness beneath it.
“No, Martin, you are wrong about you,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Wrong to blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault. Wrong to keep pushing people away, wrong to let stupid comments from Steve jeopardize your career here at Bluford. Wrong to protect guys that aren’t your friends. ”
I couldn’t speak or move. My feet were nailed to the floor, and my mouth was glued shut. He was dropping truth on me like a rain of bombs.
“You’re wrong about me, too,” he added. “I’m not here to punish you or make your life difficult. ”
“I guess you got all the answers then,” I replied, kicking my foot against my desk.
He took a deep breath. “No, I don’t, Martin, but I know some of what you’re going through. My nephew was killed by a stray bullet in a driveby shooting nine years ago just a few blocks from this school. He was only six years old,” he said resting his hand briefly on his chest like he was saying a prayer.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“The police never found the person who did it, and to this day, I think it’s because people are too scared to talk,” he said.
I could feel him watching me. I kept my eyes focused on a crack in the tile floor. Anything to avoid his gaze.
“I’m sorry. ”
“I see too many kids taken down on these streets, Martin. Too many young people swallowed up by drugs, guns, and gangs. Kids who don’t know better making bad choices that ruin their lives. I decided a long time ago to try to catch kids before they fall. It’s one reason I became a teacher. I’m sayin’ this so you know where I’m coming from in case you want to talk. ”
“You think I’m one of those fallen kids, don’t you? That’s why you’re always in my face?”
“No, I think you’ve got a difficult choice to make. Right now, you’re still standing. But if you get kicked out of this school, where will you be? Another fight and that’s what will happen. ”
I glanced up at him. “School is the least of my problems. ”
He nodded. I could hear students lining up in the hall outside his door. His next class was about to start.
“Martin, we both know you know a lot more than you told the police the other day. As someone who has lost someone, I need to say this. For your brother’s sake, you’ve got to tell the police what you know. I know it doesn’t sound right, but if you keep one kid safe because you get a gun or a criminal off the street, it’s worth it. ”
Mr. Mitchell had been making sense until he started asking me to snitch on my friends. Then I started feeling pressure in my head. Like my skull was crammed full of tangled knots. I needed to get away from him.
“Next period is about to start,” I said, getting up from my chair and heading toward the door. “I gotta go. ”
He sighed and followed me to the doorway. “Remember what I said, Martin. You have a choice to make. My door’s always open if you ever want to talk. ”
I nodded and rushed past him into the crowded hallway, never looking back.
The last class of the day was gym with Mr. Dooling. Thanks to my doctor’s note, all I did was sit on the bleachers and watch everyone play basketball. Steve, Clarence, and the rest of their friends dominated the court, but they weren’t pushing anyone around, not even Eric. He nodded to me from the other side of the gym.
It was the first time I’d seen Eric since my fight in the locker room. I wanted to smack him for talking to Ms. Spencer. Yeah, it was brave, and it got me out of trouble, but so what? Where I come from, talking to the principal could get you beat up—or worse. I couldn’t handle him getting hurt for me.
“Eric,” I said, walking up to him after class. “We need to talk, bro. �
� He smiled when he saw me, a look that reminded me of my little brother. For a split second, I almost forgot what I was going to say.
“Wassup, Martin. You all right?” he asked, glancing at the cut on my head. “Man, what happened to your face? It wasn’t Steve, was it?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I snapped, angry that he was still looking out for me. “Look, Eric, I heard about what you said to Ms. Spencer. You need to stay out of my business, homes. You hear me?”
“What’s your problem? I just told her the truth. ”
“I don’t care what you told her. Just stay out of it. What you did was stupid. ” I felt guilty saying the words. It was like back in the day when I scolded Huero for following me and Frankie. But if I’d only been harder on him, maybe he’d still be here today. I wasn’t making that mistake again.
“Stupid? I was sticking up for you. The only thing that would be stupid is if I let you get busted when you didn’t do nothin’. If you think that’s the kinda friend I am, you got me all wrong. ” His brow was creased and his eyes were focused. He meant what he said.
That’s what scared me. I couldn’t handle another person being in danger because of me. Another person I might not be able to protect. The next thing I knew, I heard myself blurting out words I never meant, words I shouldn’t have said.
“Who you kiddin’, Eric? We ain’t friends. You can’t even take care of yourself, so you got no business worryin’ about me,” I said, giving him a shove to make my point. “From now on, just stay away from me, and stay out of my business. ”
“What’s your problem, Martin? What’d I do to you?” he said, not even trying to defend himself.
I wished he’d insulted me or called me a coward for being too scared to be his friend. But he didn’t. Instead he just stood there, looking hurt and confused. I couldn’t stand looking at him like that.
Without a word, I turned and stormed out of Bluford, glad to escape the place that felt more like my prison than my school. I’d only gone two blocks when I spotted something that made my heart drop to my feet.
It was Chago. He was watching me from across the street.
Chapter 5
“Yo, homes, wassup?” Chago said, lighting up a cigarette. His words seemed normal, but his face was pale and tense, like he was about to throw up.
I glanced up and down the block to see if he had come with Frankie, but there was no blue LeMans anywhere.
“Wassup, Chago,” I said, eyeing him cautiously.
He took a long drag of the cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. I could smell the stink from across the street.
When we were kids, he and I used to hang out all the time. In junior high, we started messing around with cigarettes and beer like the older kids. I hated that stuff. The smell, the taste, the cost. But Chago was different. In eighth grade, he discovered weed, and for a while, that was all he wanted to do.
To pay for it, we stole things. A car stereo here, a bicycle there. No big deal, but it wasn’t right. I remember how I had felt when Huero’s bike got stolen, how I wanted to beat up the kid that did it. And then one day I became that kid. It’s all ancient history now.
No matter what stupid things we did back in the day, me and Chago were always tight. He would always tell you what he was thinking straight up, and since he and I were cool, we never had any problems. Not like me and Frankie. You know all about that.
“Martin, we need to talk, homie. ” His voice sounded forced and unnatural, like someone had a knife stuck in his back.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I replied, double-checking to make sure we were alone. “Where is he?” Chago knew exactly who I was talking about.
“He ain’t here, Martin. Not yet,” he said, crossing the street. “He doesn’t know I’m talking to you, and to be honest, I can’t believe I am either. ”
He tossed his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk, pulled out another one and fished around in his pocket for a lighter. He smoked whenever he was nervous.
“Man, you keep smoking like that, and you’re never gonna be an old man, Chago,” I said. I knew how silly the words sounded, like the warnings you see on cigarette packs. When you’re just trying to get through today, you don’t even think about tomorrow. “Besides, you smell bad enough already without them nasty things. ”
He laughed, but there was nothing happy about the sound. Like the laugh you have at a funeral when you recall something funny about the person who passed away.
“Remember how we used to run up and down the street when we were kids? When playing was all we had to worry about?” Chago said, carefully putting the cigarette back into the box and kicking the curb with his shoe. I’d seem him do that a thousand times whenever he was thinking.
“Yeah, I remember. That was a long time ago. ”
“I wish we could go back there,” he said.
“Me too, homes. I’d give anything just to go back to last summer. ”
Chago winced. I knew the words hurt him. Of all my friends, he was the one who liked Huero most. He cried with me at the funeral, and he wanted revenge as much as I did.
“Frankie’s pissed at you, homes,” he said suddenly, changing the subject. “I ain’t never seen him so mad. ”
I nodded. I expected as much. “I know. You think I’m stupid?”
“I don’t know what to think about you anymore,” Chago said with a sigh. “You used to be one of us, and now look at you. Frankie says you punked out and ratted on us to the cops, like you wanted us arrested or something. Ramirez been all over us for the past two days. ”
“Man, all of you been smokin’ too much. You know I ain’t like that. I never said Frankie or anyone’s name to the cops. You believe me, right?”
Chago shrugged. I could see that Frankie had worked hard to turn him against me. “Then why did Ramirez stop by checking us out like we did something?” he asked.
“’Cause Frankie left his signature on my face. Ramirez ain’t stupid. He knows somethin’s up. ” Chago nodded. He knew I was telling the truth.
On the street, cars slowly passed by. One driver, an old white man, eyed us as he approached the corner where we were standing. He even locked his car doors as he waited for the light to turn, like we were carjackers or something. I almost said Boo just so he’d stop staring. Chago spat on the ground as the light changed and the car raced away.
“So that’s it then? You just walkin’ away from us and leavin’ Hector on the street like nothing happened? What about Huero—”
“What about Huero, Chago? The bullet that killed him was meant for Frankie. If I had stayed away from him, Huero would be riding his bike right now, not lying in the ground,” I said, forcing the tears back.
Chago wiped something from his eye. We were both quiet for several seconds.
“I understand you hurtin’, bro. All of us are. That’s why we gotta get revenge. C’mon, homes. Let’s talk to Frankie. He’ll probably be cool with you if you come around now. From what I hear, Hector’s at his crib tonight. Tanner Street ain’t that far away. Let’s do this like we said back in the day,” Chago urged. “Let’s do it for Huero. ”
Chago’s last words caught me like a nail catches your skin. He acted like killing was the best way to show respect for a kid who never hurt anyone, who smiled at strangers and felt sad whenever he saw a stray cat. That’s not my brother’s way. Huero wouldn’t want me to shoot anyone. He wouldn’t want me abandoning Mom and wasting my life in jail either. I figured this out one afternoon when I cut class to visit his grave. No matter what Chago, Frankie, or anyone said, I had to live for Huero—not kill for him.
“I’m takin’ care of Hector myself, Chago. My way. I don’t need you or Frankie’s help to do it,” I snapped. It was true, though I wasn’t sure how.
“Homes, you ain’t thinking straight. We been tight for years, so I’m gonna tell you straight up. If you walk away like this, you’re gonna make Frankie an enemy, and you’ll be alone against Hector,�
�� Chago said. “It’s like a street fight. The dude in the middle gets hit from both sides. You can’t survive that. ”
“Then I won’t survive,” I said. “We all gotta go sometime, Chago. At least I’ll see Huero again. ”
Chago glanced at me and then turned away. I’d seen him act this way before, when he disagreed with me but knew there was no changing my mind. Like when I stopped buying him weed ’cause I thought he smoked too much.
“Why don’t you take off?” he said suddenly. There was something desperate in his voice. “You know, run away or join the army or something. Just until Frankie cools down. Those recruiter dudes are all over the place these days. ”
I almost laughed in his face at how crazy his words sounded. You gotta admit, it’s a messed-up world when going to war is safer than staying home.
“I’m serious, Martin. Go away for six months, a year,” he added, almost like he was begging me. Chago had never given me advice before. Usually he was asking for it about girls, or work, or dealing with his mom. Frankie and I used to tease him about it. But things were different now.
“I can’t leave, homes,” I said. My mother and I had already moved across the city. And at 16, I wasn’t joining no army. Besides, I couldn’t leave my mother alone, not after what she’d been through.
Chago was about to try and argue with me. I could see it in his face, but I cut him off.
“So is Frankie comin’ for me, Chago? Is that why you came down here?” I asked.
Chago reached into his pocket and grabbed the cigarette he’d just put away. I knew the answer before he opened his mouth.
“You know Frankie. He don’t take ‘no’ from anyone. ”
For several minutes, we stood on the corner and said nothing. Chago finished his cigarette, tossed the butt onto the sidewalk and looked back at Bluford.
“And what about you, Chago? Will you be with Frankie when he comes?”
Chago shook his head and cursed under his breath.
“It isn’t supposed to be like this. We’re brothers,” he said finally, sadness in his voice. “C’mon, Martin. You were always the smart one. Can’t you think of some way out of this? At least try makin’ it right with Frankie. Try talkin’ to him. ”
