by K'wan
Father Michael was the wild card. She had no idea that the priest knew her father, let alone from the streets. Until Persia got to St. Mary’s she had never heard either of her parents ever mention Father Michael. Even when she would speak to her father on the phone from prison, and she was telling him about her days in school and stories of the strict Father Michael her father never mentioned knowing him. Why would he keep it a secret? Persia figured that if Father Michel knew her father from the streets, he had his reasons for not mentioning it and it was probably for her own good. She realized that the older she got and thought she had her father figured out, the more she realized she was still clueless of who or what he really was before he went to prison.
Thinking of her father made Persia sad. She hadn’t seen him, other than through pictures, in years. He had long ago stopped letting Michelle bring Persia to visit him in prison. Face didn’t want to subject his baby girl to the potential scars that could come with a young girl getting used to visiting men in prison. That was a character trait he would not expose her to, no matter who was behind the wall. Their interaction was limited to phone calls, letters, and exchanging pictures. Persia had promised herself that when she turned eighteen she would make the trip on her own to see her father. She had intended to keep that promise until her life got complicated.
Persia had been so busy trying to put the pieces of her life back together that she hadn’t had the chance to even write her father back, let alone visit him. Part of her was embarrassed to go and see her father. From the letters he wrote her, she could tell her mother hadn’t told him about the things that had happened to her over the past few months. When she asked her why she hadn’t told him, Michelle replied, “It’s not my story to tell.” She would leave that to Persia. Persia knew that he had a right to know, but she couldn’t find the words to tell him that the daughter he had sacrificed everything for grew up to be nothing more than a lovesick crackhead. She didn’t have the strength, but she knew that she would have to find it. Her visit to see her father in the flesh for the first time in thirteen years was long overdue.
The break in Persia’s regularly scheduled school day was both a gift and a curse. It was a gift because by the time she was done with Father Michael, Sister Francine’s class was over so she didn’t have to see her anymore that day, but it was a curse because her next class was physical education. Persia hated gym, especially in the middle of the day. She always ended up sweating, and left with a choice between showering with the rest of the girls in the stalls, or staying funky until she went home at the end of the day.
When Persia walked into the gymnasium, the first person she saw was Vickie. As usual, she looked a hot mess wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been washed so many times that you could barely see the school logo anymore. Poorly bleached hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her black roots and the acne marks on the side of her face. Vickie and her sister Jean were two Jerry Springer rejects whose mother had been fortunate enough to hit the lotto and move them from a double wide to a two-story house in a middle-class section of Queens. Watching them trying to fit in with the upper-class kids at St. Mary’s was like watching a bull try to tiptoe through a china shop. Up to that point, Persia didn’t like or dislike Vickie or her sister Jean. The two tramps had never really been on her radar, but that all changed when she found out what they had done to Sarah. She might be getting kicked out of school because of them and they had to answer for it.
When Vickie spotted Persia, she did a double take. The look on her face said that she knew what Persia was thinking. Vickie made hurried steps over to her sister, and began whispering in her ear. Jean was the older sister, but no less trashy. She wore her hair in a shaved blond mullet. She wore a cutoff T-shirt, showing off her meaty biceps. In the proper light, you could’ve easily mistaken Jean for a man.
Persia also noticed a third girl with her, a black girl named Asia. She had flawless skin that was such a deep shade of black it could’ve passed for blue. Her hair was done in micro-braids, and pulled into two buns on either side of her head. With high cheekbones and sharp eyes that were the color of Hersey’s Kisses, she was a uniquely beautiful girl.
Persia didn’t know too much about Asia personally, but she knew what she’d heard around school. Asia’s family was from somewhere in Africa. Her mother, Nya, was a popular European model and her father, Mobi, had been a man of great wealth and influence before his untimely death. After her husband’s death, Nya took Asia and moved to Germany, where she continued her modeling career until age, and the birth of two more children had forced her into retirement as a model, cofounder of an up-and-coming modeling agency, with Asia as one of its young clients. When the agency decided to open a US location, Nya and her daughter moved to New York and bought a house a few blocks from where Persia’s family lived.
Asia’s notoriety as an up-and-coming model made her somewhat of a celebrity at St. Mary’s. All the girls wanted to be her friend, but Asia was very particular about who she kept around her, handpicking a select few of the girls from the most elite families as her entourage and this is what made her friendship with Vickie and Jean so peculiar. They had nothing in common, expect the fact that they went to the same school, yet the three of them seemed to have forged some type of bond. Persia’s beef was with Vickie and Jean, not Asia, but if she felt like she needed to involve herself, she could get it too.
Sister Barbra, the gym teacher, had them line up into teams for volleyball. Persia hated volleyball days. The sport was popular at the school, because they had a pretty good team, but Persia didn’t care for it. As a kid, Persia played volleyball every summer at camp, primarily because her mother forced her to. She wanted Persia to fit in with their new class of neighbors, so she made her do whatever the other kids were doing. She actually got pretty good at it, but over time she had lost interest in it. Now that she was older Persia wasn’t into it or anything else that involved sweating, unless it was sex. Still, she had to participate because she needed the credit she’d get from the class to receive her diploma.
Vickie and Jean hung close to Asia to make sure they ended up on the same team, while Persia just kind of floated, until Sister Barbara forced her on to a team, which happened to be the one opposite the other girls. Persia played the background, while the first girl on their team took her turn serving. They would each have a turn, and Persia couldn’t wait for hers. She grilled Vickie from the other side of the fence. She was trying to get into her head and it was working. Vickie missed two easy balls that had come her way, drawing flack from Asia and her other teammates.
Finally, it was Persia’s turn to serve the ball. She ignored the girl who was lined up directly opposite and kept her eyes on Vickie, while she took her spot, rolling the ball over in her hand. Vickie tried to return her stare, but her heart wasn’t in it. When Sister Barbara signaled for them to begin, Persia tossed the ball into the air. When she leapt to meet it, she was as graceful as a gazelle, but the force of her serve was like a gorilla. Persia’s fist struck the ball and sent it streaking directly toward Vickie. It happened so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to cover her face as the ball made impact with her nose. Vickie went down in a heap, crying and bleeding all over the gymnasium floor. Persia smirked, thinking about how all those summers of being forced to play volleyball had finally come in handy.
“My nose, she broke my nose,” Vickie sobbed, holding her hand over her nose, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Are you okay?” Sister Barbara knelt beside Vickie. “Somebody get some towels!” Two girls ran off to get some towels while Sister Barbara attended to Vickie.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Persia said, sounding less than sincere.
“You did that on purpose, bitch!” Vickie snapped.
“Nonsense, it was an accident. I always tell you girls to stay alert when we’re on the court, and things like this are the reason why.” Sister Barbara helped Vickie to her feet. �
�Go down to the nurse and get some ice on that nose before it swells.”
Sister Barbara had one of the girls who had gone to get the towels help Vickie to the nurse’s office.
Persia stood there, watching Vickie drip a trail of blood in her wake as she was escorted out of the gymnasium. “That’s for Sarah, bitch,” Persia mumbled. She looked to the other side of the volleyball net, where Asia and Jean were standing. Jean was furious to the point where she took a step toward Persia, but Asia held her back. She whispered something in Jean’s ear that seemed to calm her down, but the girl still looked furious.
The accident put an end to the volleyball game and Sister Barbara had the girls run laps for the rest of the period. Persia didn’t mind. It was a small price to pay for being able to pay Vickie back for what she had done to Sarah. As they did their laps, Persia noticed Asia speaking in hushed tones to a girl named Claire, who was a notorious gossip. Every so often they would look back at her then return to their whispering. Persia knew there would be retaliation for what she had done to Vickie, but she was more than ready for it. She had been having a rough day and needed to relieve some stress. Whipping a bitch’s ass seemed like the perfect way to do it.
CHAPTER 10
“What’s popping?” Li’l Monk rolled up on the group. His tone was even, but his face was hard.
“Nothing, babe. We were just on our way back with the cigars.” Sophie held the blunts up for proof, but Li’l Monk didn’t give them a second look. He was staring daggers at the young man who had been trying to get with Sophie.
“Looks like y’all brought back more than cigars,” Li’l Monk said. “Who this nigga?” He nodded at the young man.
The young man matched Li’l Monk’s glare. He knew the brute was trying to intimidate him, but he didn’t scare so easily. “The name is Chief, maybe you’ve heard of me?”
Li’l Monk looked Chief up and down. “Nah, I ain’t never heard of you.”
Chief laughed. “You’re a funny guy, but I like that. Judging by the way you’re looking at me, I take it this is your chick?”
Li’l Monk didn’t answer, he just kept glaring at Chief.
“Oh, the strong, silent type, huh? I feel you, big man.” Chief’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Look, player, I didn’t mean no disrespect. I was just trying to get to know the lady, but she explained to me that she had a little situation. I know how to take a hint.”
“I sure can’t tell, because if you did, you’d be walking the other way instead of trying to get cute with me,” Li’l Monk grumbled.
Sophie could see the storm raging in his eyes so she stepped between her man and Chief. “He didn’t mean no harm, baby. Let’s just go upstairs and smoke, Li’l Monk.”
“Oh, you’re the infamous Li’l Monk?” Chief recognized the name. “I heard a lot about you, man.”
“Is that so?” Li’l Monk asked, trying to keep himself from slapping the smug grin off Chief’s face.
“Yeah, you work for Omega, right?”
“Nah, I don’t work for nobody, but that’s my partner,” Li’l Monk corrected him.
Chief gave him a comical look. “Tomato, tomato, same shit right? We got some friends in common, so I expect we’ll be seeing more of each other. No need to get off on the wrong foot, right, big man?” He patted Li’l Monk on the shoulder harder than he needed to.
Li’l Monk looked at Chief’s hand like it was covered in shit and flared his nostrils. “My nigga, I think you best be going.”
“You got it, tough guy. I don’t want no static, B. I was just taking a walk through garden, checking to see how ripe the fruit was, but sadly even the most delicious-looking apples always seem to have worms in them.” He cut his eyes at Sophie.
That was the last straw.
Sophie saw it coming first, but there was little she could do to stop it. “Li’l Monk, don’t!”
Li’l Monk gripped Chief by the front of his shirt with one of his massive hands. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” He slapped Chief viciously across the face. The force of the openhanded slap sent blood flying from Chief’s mouth. “Bitch niggas like you always think it’s fun to rattle cages until you wake the animals sleeping in them.”
“Nigga, get your fucking hands off me! I’m with King Tut!” Chief yelled.
King Tut was a name Li’l Monk did recognize. He was one of the new young dudes Ramses had recruited. If Chief was truly under King Tut, then by extension that made him family as being a part of their organization; but family or not, he had violated and needed to be disciplined. “Well, then Tut should’ve taught you better. Blame him for this ass whipping your disrespectful ass is about to take.” Li’l Monk slapped him twice more. Every time Li’l Monk’s hand made contact with Chief’s face it sounded like thunder.
“Baby, please stop.” Sophie tugged at Li’l Monk’s arm, distracting him.
Chief took the opportunity to fish the small Gemstar razor from his pocket. In desperation, he swung the blade for Li’l Monk’s face, but Li’l Monk moved out of the way at the last second so instead the blade came down across his chest.
Li’l Monk winced in pain when the razor opened his skin. It was a small cut, but it burned like hell and he could already feel the blood trickling down his chest. He turned his dark eyes to Chief and cracked a smile. “At first I was just going to rough you up, but now I’m going to maim you.” He cracked his knuckles. “I hope you got insurance.”
“Come get it, nigga.” Chief swung the razor again, but this time Li’l Monk was expecting it. He grabbed Chief by the wrist and twisted it until he heard his bones snap and the razor fell harmlessly to the floor.
“I don’t give a fuck about you”—Li’l Monk slammed his fist into the side of Chief’s head—“King Tut”—he slugged him in the ribs, breaking two of them—“or nobody else your bitch-ass name drops.” He punched him in the stomach. When Chief doubled over, Li’l Monk grabbed him by the front of his pants and his neck, lifting him over his head like a wrestler. With a grunt, Li’l Monk slammed Chief to the floor with bone-jarring force. “It don’t matter who you wit’, li’l nigga, this is my fucking strip. You and everybody else will either respect it, or become a victim of my wrath.” He raised his size twelve boot, ready to deliver the finishing blow to Chief’s exposed face, but Charlie and Neighborhood grabbed him.
“Chill before you kill him!” Charlie tried to reason with Li’l Monk.
“That’s the general idea. Now get the fuck off me,” Li’l Monk growled and tossed Charlie to the side like a rag doll, and started back toward the unconscious Chief. Neighborhood jumped on his back, while Charlie latched onto one of Li’l Monk’s legs, while Tasha pushed at his chest. They managed to slow him down, but they couldn’t stop the juggernaut. In the end it was the beauty who soothed the savage beast.
“Li’l Monk!” Sophie’s voice cracked like a whip. She stood between Li’l Monk and his victim with her arms folded.
“Move, Sophie,” Li’l Monk ordered.
“No,” Sophie said defiantly. “I’m not going to let you do something stupid to get yourself in trouble. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Anytime a nigga come through my hood acting like he don’t know what time it is, he gotta learn.” He was so angry that his body trembled with rage.
“And you’ve taught him.” Sophie pointed to the unconscious man. Sophie placed her hands on either side of Li’l Monk’s face and made him look at her. “A true leader knows when to take a man’s life and when to spare it. You’ve made your point, Li’l Monk. Let this bullshit go.”
Li’l Monk’s body relaxed. He was still angry, but no longer trying to get to Chief. Sophie was one of the only people who could have that type of calming effect on him. Still, he was still angry as hell and needed to expel the built-up energy before it consumed him. Li’l Monk growled like a bear before putting his fist through the window of a parked car. The glass cut his knuckles up, but didn’t do any real damag
e.
Sophie looked at Li’l Monk’s bleeding hand and shook her head. “Are you happy now? Let me see it, you might need stitches.” She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.
“I’m good.” Li’l Monk turned and started walking down the block.
“Li’l Monk!” Sophie called after him, but Li’l Monk didn’t turn around, he just kept going. Sophie made a move to follow him, but Neighborhood stopped her.
“Best to let him go his way and cool off. Them Monks can be a sour and unpredictable pair when they’re angry,” Neighborhood told her.
“I know how to deal with my man,” Sophie said with an attitude. She hadn’t meant to be short with Neighborhood, but she was in her feelings about everything that had happened.
“Just like a lion tamer knows how to deal with lions, but it don’t change the fact that they get bit every so often. Take an old man’s advice and give him some space,” Neighborhood told her and walked off.
After a few minutes Tasha was able to calm Sophie down and they went their way. Charlie had vanished not long before, leaving only Droopy and what was left of Chief. It had been a full five minutes and the young man was still on the ground, sleeping soundly. Droopy gave a brief look around before kneeling beside Chief and going through his pockets. He relieved him of his cash and the two gold chains he was wearing.
“Bitch-ass nigga.” Droopy stomped Chief once more for good measure before running off to enjoy his spoils.
CHAPTER 11
Persia spent the rest of the school day on high alert. Since Marty was dead and Sarah had gotten suspended, she would be on her own if something went down. There were a few other girls in the school who she was cool with, but not cool enough to depend on them in a fight. This was a situation Persia would have to deal with alone, which was fine by her. Her father had raised her to never show fear or back down, no matter what the odds, but just to be on the safe side she put a lock inside of one of her gym socks and carried it around in her pocket for the rest of the day. She saw all three of the girls in the halls throughout the course of the day, but outside of a few dirty looks exchanged nothing happened. They were trying to rock Persia to sleep, but she was no dummy. She knew they were just looking for the right time to pounce.
