Tight
Page 13
She keeps on. “When he told me that, I invited him to dinner. I figured it was safe to have him around you. Because I knew from his mother that his grades showed he was smart and seemed to be going in the right direction.”
Then Ma goes into community center mode, explaining how people who have more should do more to help people who have less.
I don’t get that because we don’t have more than a lot of people.
Ma keeps on, using big words like obligation, commitment, selflessness, and blah-blah-blah.
I start zoning out and not listening
Then she interrupts me spacing out by flipping it on me and asking if I can have an honest conversation with Mike and make things better.
I ask back, “After everything he did?”
“Especially after everything he did.” Ma stares at me serious, leans forward, and rests her hand on mine. “Bryan, I’m not saying you have to go back to being best friends with him. I’m not even saying you should be friends with him. But you need to make this right with him. You and him have history. And you can’t walk around with a neighbor who wants to fight you, especially when you know some of his friends are troublemakers. And who knows? Someday, you might need his help.”
I suck my teeth. I remember Ava saying that.
Ma stands. “You and him need to talk this out.”
“How? I’m not going up to him. If he’s still mad, that’ll be a fight.”
“You’re lucky you have Ava,” she says. “She got to Mike before he told his friends. She made him promise not to do anything.”
“It worked?”
“Well, it helped that Ava made Mike start using his brain again. She told him to think a few steps ahead to when Pa gets involved. She knows Mike would want to avoid that. So that helped make him promise to talk to you.”
Ma goes to leave. “Maybe thank her. And this conversation isn’t over. Think about what I said until we talk again.”
* * *
• • •
Later, dinner is wild. As Pa eats, he eyes me a few times and winks. At one point, he gives me a thumbs-up. Before he went back to jail, he told me don’t be soft. Now that I beat up Mike, I guess he knows I’m not and he’s proud. Each time he winked at me, I felt like the man, but then I’d look over at Ma and Ava and their expressions said, “What’re you smiling for? Stop smiling.”
Pa finishes dinner first and tells me, “Bryan, do dishes with me.”
Okayeee then. I never do dishes with Pa. This feels a little awkward and I wonder why he’s asking.
Me and Pa go in the kitchen.
Pa says, “I wash, you dry,” as he hands me a dish towel. “Remember when I told you don’t surround yourself with the wrong friends?”
“Yeah.”
He turns on the water. “I didn’t know Mike was like that, and I’m glad you put him in his place. Before he could hurt you more.”
A part of me is proud that Pa is taking my side instead of Mike’s. Before, I was afraid to tell Pa that Mike was maybe not a real friend because I was afraid that he thought Mike was the best thing ever. Pa keeps washing dishes and handing me one after the other. He becomes his quiet, non-chatty self, but these minutes together feel good with us doing something together.
* * *
• • •
Alone, back in my room, I think about what Ma said about choosing better friends and making things better with Mike.
I go to my comics and flip through the stack while splitting them into piles. I have three Batmans, two Black Panthers, one Spider-Man, and two Luke Cages. Seeing the Batmans, Black Panthers, and Luke Cages makes me think back to when me and Mike first met.
Back then, he asked me which superpower I wanted.
I told him Batman’s and Black Panther’s because they figure out stuff mad fast and know what’s happening ten steps ahead. He chose Luke Cage because he’s so strong and nothing hurts him.
Right now, I lay a Luke Cage comic in between a Batman and a Black Panther comic. I wonder who would win a fight? Luke Cage or Batman? Luke Cage or Black Panther?
When I fought Mike, I felt like Luke Cage. But what good did being stronger than Mike do? I wasn’t thinking. I was just swinging. That made things worse.
If I were Batman or Black Panther, I definitely wouldn’t have first fought with my hands. I would’ve first fought with my head and thought ten steps ahead. If I had, I would’ve known Mike’s next step would be to get revenge by telling his friends.
Luke Cage is the man, but being him with Mike doesn’t help. And the truth is, I’m not Luke Cage. Heads can get at me and hurt me. I can bleed.
I need to think with my head.
I lie in bed, put my comics next to me, and look at the ceiling.
Sounds come from outside my window: laughter, music, arguments, and curses. I listen harder at the cursing and arguing. It sounds like a fight might happen any minute. That’s every day out here. I make a wish.
I wish things could be different.
Then I remember.
Way back in the day, I made that same wish standing outside the bodega on Pa’s corner. I remember wishing I had a brother too. Then life did get different. And I got Mike, who called me a brother. Way before those wishes, I remember wishing that my real brothers from Pa would come and teach me brotherly things. I wonder if having Mike is like having a real brother—the good and the bad—because he ended up teaching me stuff. Then again, he would flip and act grimy, cocky, and front with me. I don’t know.
I think about Big Will and how he brings only good and no bad. I think about how he’s to me what I’m to him: a straight-up friend with no drama. But thinking about him makes me think of something else: advice he gave me. When me and him caught Mike eyeing me all jealous, he said I should talk to Mike to stop his mood from growing into a problem. I should’ve listened because now me and Mike have a big problem. Come to think of it, Ava told me the same thing Big Will did.
I remember watching her show with her, and right now I hear her in my head, like she’s in front of me, saying, “. . . always use your head . . . just because people bug out doesn’t make them all bad . . . always talk it out if you can.”
I roll over and look at my Batman and Black Panther comics. They think ten steps ahead. Plus, Ava and Big Will say do that.
Tomorrow . . .
Tomorrow, I will dead this drama.
Tomorrow. And forever.
I definitely will use my head.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We need people to keep us going. Charlotte, thanks for that and more. Nancy, thanks for being here for me, great to me, and showing me what to build and add. Thanks, Stacey, for sharing lenses during Secret Saturdays that helped me write Tight. Jackie, a big thanks for all you’ve done for me. As always, thanks, Ma, for cheerleading my writing since I was a tot crayoning the alphabet. You’re my friend and amazingly more. My wife and daughter: I love you and you help make my writing better and possible. Also, family—blood and in-laws—who loved and supported me at needed times. Thanks to my first readers—my wife and Mark Zustovich. And readers of my unpublished works: Jill Eisenhard and Ebony Wilkins—you helped clear my mind for Tight to come through. And thanks to those with writing advice and encouragement from my first book to Tight: Marco A. Carrión, Jennifer Clark, Lisa Dolan, Denise Bolds, Ronnie Aroesty, Maurice Mosley, Melissa Archer, and Matt Bird. “It takes a village” and sometimes people don’t know their impact: Michael Fraher, Melissa Jacobs, Paula Madison, Ashindi Maxton, Kalisha Dessources, Eric Luper, Eric Velazquez, and Rebecca Fitting. And thanks to fans of my first book who wanted another. And my students, who inspire me. Together, all of you created experiences and energy that encouraged Tight to come into the world.
PRAISE FOR
Torrey Maldonado’s Secret Saturdays
“The world these boys live in is
all too real. Torrey Maldonado writes with insight and authenticity about friendship and tough choices. It’s a story you won’t forget.”
—Coe Booth
“Ought to be required reading at middle schools everywhere. Maldonado gives us both voice and heart. His young characters navigate a challenging world with endearing earnestness, lively style, and a heartening desire for true dignity.”
—E. R. Frank
“Torrey Maldonado sticks his finger in an all too familiar hole of a brokenhearted urban community. Playground tough with a sweet center.”
—Rita Williams-Garcia
“Explores inner-city life for a middle school audience with sympathy and humor . . . readers will find both insight and hope.”
—The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books
“Notable for its viscerally authentic treatment of setting . . . infectiously readable, and its characters are sympathetically realized.”
—Booklist
“Resonates with the authenticity of a preteen doing his best in an urban landscape that has taught him all he knows.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A story of friendship, survival, deception and relationships . . . a fast read, entertaining and high interest.”
—Library Media Connection
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Torrey Maldonado, the author of the critically acclaimed Secret Saturdays, is a teacher in Brooklyn, New York, where he was born, raised, and lives. His books reflect his students' and his experiences.
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