by Paul Langan
I swear to this day I still hear the squeak of that bike and see Huero’s eyes.
The one thing I could not say to Huero was what Frankie and I were planning. It just didn’t feel right imagining Huero knowing about us shooting someone.
Nearby, a young man and his girlfriend were doing the same thing as me, sitting in front of a headstone and talking out loud to someone buried in the ground. Someone they loved who died.
Don’t think it’s strange. If you haven’t suffered through this, you’re just lucky. You will lose someone one day. All of us do. When it’s your turn, remember me and Huero.
I left the old woman’s rose on the edge of Huero’s stone and headed over to Frankie’s. It was about 11:00 a.m. when I got there.
“Wassup, homes?” he said as soon as he saw me. He was working on his Le Mans, as usual. Some things didn’t change. “How’s Bluford? Not too good if you’re here already,” he said, laughing at his comment.
“Bluford stinks, Frankie. I hate it. ”
“Any cute girls there?” he said. “You gotta hook me up, bro. ”
“One. But she’s not your type,” I said. “Too smart for you. ”
Frankie laughed. I pretended it was like old times for a minute, but I knew it wasn’t. The strange silence that filled the air like a cloud of smoke was proof that everything had changed.
“So what’s up? How’d you get here?”
“I took a bus. Then I went to visit Huero. My first time since . . . you know. ”
Frankie lit a cigarette and said nothing. It’s what he always did when something bothered him. I turned on the radio in his car, just to cut down the silence.
“We’re gonna take them out, Martin. Me and Chago been asking around. I made him and Junie get guns. We getting stronger every day, homes. Tonight, Chago’s seein’ this girl Lisa who’s got people everywhere. I’d bet money she knows something. Trust me. As soon as that car appears, we’ll know it. ”
I felt like I was hearing him from far away. Like he was on a bad phone connection with me or something.
“My mom thinks it was my fault. ”
“What?”
“She said if I hadn’t been out on the street, Huero wouldn’t have been shot. And you know what, Frankie? She’s right, man. No one was after Huero. You know it too. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time because of me,” I said, stomping a beer can into the concrete. “You know what’s worse, Frankie? He looked to me to help him. I could see it in his eyes, bro. ”
“Shut up, homes!” Frankie yelled. “You didn’t pull that trigger. It’s not like you knew what was happening. You can’t be blamin’ yourself ’cause you never did nothing to deserve that,” he said, taking a long drag from his cigarette and tossing the butt into the street.
“I never said this to you, but I guessed you’d figure it out ’cause you’re smart. But that bullet was probably meant for me, homes,” Frankie said, looking at me more seriously than ever. “I’m the only one in our crew with a reputation. The rest of you are just little wannabes, except for you, Martin. You might be something one day. ”
I sat down on the curb. My head felt ready to explode. Frankie’s words made too much sense. Whenever all of us went out, it seemed the whole world knew Frankie. It even got to the point where the rest of us were almost jealous of him. At parties, people would say his name as if he was a TV star or something. His knife wound, his mysterious past, his willingness to fight, and his car just added to his reputation. Compared to him, the rest of us were nobodies.
But I never thought about the target of the bullet that killed Huero. Like the newspaper, I just made the story simple. “8-Year Old Gunned Down in Gang-Related Shooting. ” From the beginning, my response was simple. Just go after the person that hurt my brother. Now, Frankie just made the picture more complicated.
“How long have you thought about all this, Frankie?”
“From the beginning. But it don’t matter. You and me are family. Remember? When someone takes out your brother, they’re taking out my brother. So we are in this together, homes. Like I said, we’ll get them as soon as I find them. ”
I’m serious when I tell you all this had my head spinning. I felt dizzy. I know Frankie thought his words were supposed to comfort me, but they didn’t. Instead, I had that nagging feeling that you get when you know you’re forgetting something important, but you don’t know what it is.
“You’re still down with this, right, homes?” Frankie asked me, studying my face strangely. “You’re not getting soft or nothing?”
“No, I’m down, Frankie. Don’t worry. ” But as I said the words, I was thinking that Frankie should have told me people were after him. If he had, I would have found a way to keep Huero away. Maybe I could have saved him.
“Cool, Martin,” Frankie said, getting in his car and starting the engine. “Let’s get out of here. ”
I spent the rest of the day with Frankie. After visiting two auto parts shops, we worked on his car, grabbed some burgers, and picked up the rest of the boys. We hung out in Chago’s garage. Junie and Frankie shared a joint. It wasn’t the first time. I even drank half a beer, trying to pretend that I was like the rest of the guys, hanging out, telling stories, chilling.
But who was I kidding? The beer tasted nasty, like dog pee. The boys’ jokes didn’t seem as funny. All the smoke stunk up my clothes. And Frankie kept watching me. He knew I was different, but I doubt if he knew why.
It was about 8:00 when Frankie drove me home. He made me direct him to Bluford first just so he could see my school.
“This ain’t your world, homes,” he said, studying the school, and then staring at me.
I nodded. He was right, but I wasn’t sure what my world was. Not anymore.
“Martin, if there is something you need to tell me, you should do it. It ain’t good to keep things hidden from your brother,” he said once we got to my mom’s apartment.
His words seemed false to me. If he had followed his own advice, maybe Huero would still be alive.
“Don’t worry, Frankie. When I have something to say, you’ll know it. ”
Chapter 6
My mother was sitting in the living room with Officer Ramirez when I walked in. I wasn’t in the mood to see either one of them.
“Where were you?” Mom asked me as soon as I walked in. She got up and stood in front of me. “You stink. What were you doing?” Her questions came as fast as punches.
I knew what she said was true. I smelled like beer and smoke.
“Nowhere, Mom. ”
“Don’t tell me ‘nowhere. ’ I got a message from your school today. They said you were absent. ” I could see that Mom was upset, but she was working hard to stay calm, probably because of Officer Ramirez. “Now where were you?”
“Calm down, Ma,” I said, ignoring her question and looking at the cop. “Did you bring him here to yell at me?”
“No, Martin,” Officer Ramirez said. “I brought your mother home from work, and I thought I’d just check in with you. From the looks of things, you could use some help. ”
“I don’t need your help. ” All his help ever brought was bad news. We don’t know who the killer was. Maybe you should move to a new neighborhood. Go to a new school.
“Martin, I’m going to ask you this one more time. Where were you today?”
The room got quiet, and I looked at them both. Even Officer Ramirez looked serious.
“I went to visit Huero, Mom,” I admitted. “After that I went to see Frankie. I’ll go to school tomorrow,” I said before turning to my room.
No one said anything when I shut my bedroom door.
Thursday I made it to English class on time. I’m not saying I did it for my mom or Mr. Mitchell or anyone. I just did it. Don’t ask me why.
Mr. Mitchell was standing by the door ready to close it as soon as the bell rang. “We missed you yesterday, Martin. Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, why? You see someth
ing wrong?” I said. He looked almost hurt, but I didn’t care. He was just too nosy.
“Let’s reschedule that detention for this afternoon,” he replied as I quickly passed him.
Vicky was at her seat when I went to my desk but was fishing something out of her backpack when I passed her.
“You coming to the big game Saturday, Mr. Mitchell?” Steve asked as he walked in.
“Actually, I’ll be here, Steve. I’m handling Saturday detentions. Maybe I’ll check out the game,” said Mr. Mitchell.
“Zamora’s goin’ down, Mr. Mitchell. You should come out and see me score,” he replied, turning to me.
I made a snorting sound at Steve, just to get on his nerves. I never cared about Zamora’s football team, although I have to admit it would be nice to see Zamora win.
Vicky shook her head and wrote something in her notebook. Nearby, I heard Teresa sigh. That girl has no time for me.
Mr. Mitchell started class with a discussion of an old story called Beowulf that the class had started reading the day before. I had no idea what he was talking about. Something about a monster in the woods that had all these people scared until someone was brave enough to stop it. I never heard of the story, but it kind of sounded like my neighborhood.
Always something lurking around, taking out kids.
Toward the end of class, Mitchell brought the discussion back to heroes. “For the last ten minutes of class, I want you to team up with a partner or two and look at the paragraphs you wrote for homework. Follow the steps we discussed yesterday to give helpful suggestions to your partner. Final drafts are due tomorrow. ”
All around me, students moaned, and I leaned back in my chair. I hate when teachers make you share your work. It’s like having people spy on you when you’re in the shower. The only good thing was that I sat in the back row. I was sure none of the students there did their work.
I turned to my right and saw that kid Roylin looking at me. He was the only other kid in the back row, and he had this dumb smile on his face that told me he hadn’t even opened his book. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one.
“Martin, why don’t you team up with Vicky and Teresa. Roylin, you work with Steve and Darcy,” Mr. Mitchell said. Teresa’s face scrunched up like she’d just smelled Frankie’s boots. It was almost funny.
“Are you sure I gotta have him in my group?” Steve said about Roylin.
“Well, you could always join me Saturday instead of playing in that big game. ”
I laughed out loud along with several other students.
“Morris, if your head gets any bigger, it ain’t gonna fit in your helmet,” Roylin cut back.
“Gentlemen. Enough. You’re on the same team. Figure out how to work together. That’s more important than football or English,” Mr. Mitchell said.
I had to give the teacher some credit. His comment shut them up.
I got out of my desk and sat next to Vicky. She was jotting something into one of those planner notebooks. None of my friends would ever buy such a thing. Her handwriting was so tiny, I couldn’t read it, but I could see that it was perfectly straight and even, unlike mine.
“I can’t read that chicken scratch,” my English teacher said last year. I got a C– in the class and didn’t worry about it. As long as I passed.
Vicky seemed the opposite of the girls who I hung out with back home. Her face was so intense. It was like she had ten things racing through her mind, all of them related to school. Luisa, the last girl I dated, would have laughed at someone like Vicky. Even if Luisa had ten things in her head, school would be number eleven. I’m not dogging her, though, because I was no better.
Teresa slid her desk toward us. It made a loud groaning sound as she nudged it forward a few inches at a time. As she approached, she looked at me like I was a dentist who was about to pull out her tooth. I leaned back and waited.
“Let me just say that what I wrote was bad,” Vicky said, grabbing another notebook and flipping to the pages she wanted to show us.
“You always say that, Vic, but you know it’s not true,” Teresa said.
“I don’t think I did the assignment right, and I didn’t get to finish,” I said. The idea of showing them what I wrote about Huero bothered me.
Teresa stared at Vicky as if I wasn’t there. See, I told you he was stupid, her look said.
“Let’s just exchange and do what Mr. Mitchell said. Just helpful suggestions. ”
“Whatever,” Teresa said.
We switched notebooks. Teresa got mine; Vicky got Teresa’s, and I got Vicky’s. When she handed it to me, she smiled. Her long hair was pulled back, and she looked so nice I got a little nervous. Don’t laugh at me. It’s true.
Her paragraph was about her grandmother who came from Mexico without an education. When she arrived in the U.S. , she couldn’t even read, but she managed to go to night school, graduate from college and become a teacher. In the two-page paper, Vicky said her grandmother inspired her to work hard and value education. Now she’s hoping to be a teacher too.
“This is good, Vicky,” I said, putting her notebook down. “You should read it to your grandmother. It would make her proud. ”
“I can’t,” she said with a look I won’t forget. “She died two years ago. ”
I felt like kicking myself. It wasn’t the first time I said something stupid, but it felt like it. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to think of the right words to say. My tongue was suddenly a tangled knot.
“It’s okay, Martin,” she said, turning to Teresa and offering her a few writing suggestions. My turn was next, and Teresa began by shaking her head and frowning.
“I don’t think what you wrote is what Mr. Mitchell wanted. It’s not long enough either,” she said. “But I guess it’s . . . okay. ” Teresa spoke the last word as if was especially difficult.
“Thanks, Teresa,” I said, wanting to tell her off, but Vicky was there. Instead, I gave her a big fake smile. “That’s really helpful. ”
“Okay, let’s switch again,” Vicky instructed. This time I got Teresa’s paper, and Vicky got mine.
My stomach was flipping while Vicky was reading my short paragraph about Huero. I was afraid she’d think I was dumb or something, but what could I do? I wasn’t a writer. After several long seconds, she brushed her hair back and looked at me.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said. Teresa yawned.
“I know. I didn’t do the assignment right. ”
“No, Martin. What you wrote is so . . . deep. But I don’t understand. You need to finish it. You need to explain what happened to your brother. ”
“Someone shot and killed him. ” I spoke the words in the same way I would tell you my favorite color, the day I was born, the name of Frankie’s sister. Sitting in front of Teresa and Vicky with the whole class nearby, I wasn’t gonna lose it.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay, Vicky,” I told her. Yet I could feel the movement inside, like the little earthquakes we get around here from time to time. Not enough to hurt anyone. Just enough to let you know something is happening.
She looked at me with those brown eyes, and I could see sadness in them for me. I felt naked like a newborn baby. It might sound silly to say that when you have a pretty girl in front of you. But it wasn’t like she was seeing my body without clothes on. It was like she was looking at my insides. Like I had no skin. I almost freaked.
“Your paper was great, Vicky,” Teresa said, shattering the moment instantly. I was glad she did. “I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Yours was nice too, Teresa. Really nice,” I said, giving her exactly what she gave to me.
Truth is, I didn’t read a word of Teresa’s paper. It could have been about the planet Mars for all I cared! My mind was on Vicky.
It took me all day to calm down from English class. I couldn’t shake the feeling Vicky gave me. I wanted to talk to her, but I had no idea what I would say. I used to think I was pretty sm
ooth around girls, but not with her.
In gym class, Mr. Dooling continued his unit on basketball, and again I found myself on the court. This time, I had to play a little bit.
“C’mon, Luna, get in the game,” Mr. Dooling yelled when he spotted me on the sidelines.
Next thing I knew, I was on the court dribbling the ball.
As soon as I got near our opponent’s basket, I passed the ball to one of my teammates who dribbled three steps, drawing the defenders away from me. Then he passed it right back.
“Shoot it!” he yelled.
I was about as far from the basket as the foul line, but I was off to the side. It looked to be a pretty easy jump shot, even for me. I planted my feet, raised the ball, brought up my arms, and went to shoot.
Just as I was about to let the ball go, I saw a blur through the corner of my eye. A split second later, wind rushed by me the way it does when a car passes you on the street. The ball, which had been on the tips of my fingers, was knocked loose from my hands.
“Rejected!” someone cheered.
“What happened?” I said, turning around.
Behind me, I could see someone zigzagging down the court with the ball. He stopped briefly at midcourt to dribble behind his back and through his legs. Just to show off.
The guy was fast, and he was bigger than most of the kids in the gym. I knew right away who blocked my shot. It was Steve Morris.
“Morris, give back that ball, and get off the court until it’s your turn to play,” Mr. Dooling yelled.
“He smoked you, man,” said a voice on the other side of me. I looked to see Clarence standing there. That stupid smile was on his face.
Many people in the gym who knew Steve were laughing. Other kids, including Eric, were watching me. Many had that hungry look people get when there’s going to be a fight. But none of them knew me, so they didn’t know how I’d react. If Frankie was there, he could have told them what was going to happen. You probably already know by now.
