Team Seven

by Marcus Burke

  When she smiled I could smell the coffee on her breath. It didn’t make any sense how he could like her. She was so nasty. Her face was filled with little black freckles and she looked like she was about to burst right out of her green sweat suit. She was so big I could hardly see EJ standing behind her. She tapped my knee twice and said, “Y’all have fun now. EJ, don’t go spend up all the paper route money.” When she walked away, I wished EJ would have followed her.

  EJ sat in the back behind Pop. I stayed in the front. When we left the parking lot, Pop threw on some old Bob Marley and said, “EJ, this is Andre and, Andre, this is EJ.”

  EJ threw me a handshake. I balled my fist and threw him a pound. Only herbs get pounds. If he didn’t know, he knew now: I don’t like you. He needed to know meeting wasn’t my idea.

  “Ha ha, EJ. Da nerve of dis guy. Him wasn’t sure if he was gonna mek da trip, but he wised up and came around.”

  I hunched down in my seat because I didn’t want anyone to see me with him. I knew this was all so messed up. I felt as though it was my fault. I should have just run inside when I saw Pop pull up. I looked at EJ out of the corner of my eye. He looked nothing like me.

  EJ caught me. “Hey, man, what’s up? What are you into, big bro? I’ve wanted to meet you.”

  I wish I didn’t really know what was going on, but I did. I wanted to scream, “Yo mama’s a home-wreckin’ hooch.” Instead, I just looked at him and didn’t answer. All I wanted to know was when this was going to be over. He was why shit was so bad at home. If I erased him, we could be a family again. I hated him and his mother. I knew she was the lady that Pop had been staying with. I turned up the music. Bob always put a cool vibe in the air. I stared out the window as EJ and Pop talked. I wasn’t even listening.

  Our first stop was the liquor store. Before Pop got out of the car he reached deep in his pocket and pulled out a crinkled old picture of two baby boys and tossed it on my lap.

  “You don’t remember, do you? This isn’t the first time you two have met.”

  Then he slammed the door, and I felt the temperature rise. I closed my eyes as if I was sleeping. I didn’t want to talk to EJ. But when I peeked at him, he was just sitting there cheesing with his big ol’ Kool-Aid smile.

  “So, Dre, I’ve heard so much about you, man. Will you teach me to play b-ball like you? I hear you play for the junior regional team.”

  It hit me then that this little guy just didn’t get it. I didn’t want anything to do with him. How could he not understand? He was the only one happy in this car. I felt bad, but I had to do it. “Yo, pump the brakes, son. I can’t even do all that. How old are you anyway, man?”

  He said he was eleven, which hurt me even more. Pops had been cheating on Ma since I was one.

  When Pop got back in the car, he threw his forty-ounce between his legs and ruffled down the brown bag just enough so he could drink it, and we breezed off. When I looked over at him, he was sniffling with a misty look in his eyes. I couldn’t believe it, this asshole was really sitting there crying.

  “I’ve been waiting years to finally have y’all two link up,” he said.

  Then he took a sip of his forty. That was the first time I had ever seen him cry. I wanted to cry right along with him. When he saw me staring at him, he quickly wiped his eyes and said, “So what you two picknies want to do today?”

  EJ immediately said, “Daddy, can we get Big Bro a present for his birthday?”

  My blood ran cold. Nina was the only other person I had ever heard call him Daddy. I wanted to correct him. And I wasn’t his “Big Bro” neither. But instead I suggested we go to the mall. I figured I love presents and, shit, the little guy owes me for my troubles.

  At the mall was the first time I got to take a real good look at him. There was just no way this kid was my brother. We looked nothing alike. We were exact opposites in every way. He was a geek. He had braces with black, green, and yellow Jamaican-colored rubber bands on them. He was a scraggly lil’ guy. He wore glasses, and all he seemed to be into was anime and Star Trek. At the mall, EJ started running around like he’d never been outside before. I was waiting for Pop to say something, but he just let him do his thing. If that was me, he would have snatched me bald. The poor little guy was so happy to see me. And all I felt like doing was kicking his little annoying ass.

  First we went to Cinnabon because EJ was bitching about his little sweet tooth. I wanted to choke him. It was my birthday, and we were sitting there catering to this little bastard. I tried to play it cool, but I knew in my heart everything about this day was just wrong. It didn’t feel real. I felt like I was above everything watching the day unfold.

  After EJ got his sugar fix, we went to Sam Goody to get some CDs. EJ bought me the Wu-Tang Forever CD, the one my mother said I couldn’t have because of that stupid parental advisory sticker. Pop got me the Memphis Bleek CD Coming of Age. Both CDs I knew damn good and well I wasn’t supposed to have. After that, we walked around a bit. I was hoping EJ would run off some of his energy so I wouldn’t have to sock him in his lil’ peanut head before the day was out.

  EJ asked so many questions I started to wonder if he was working for the law or something. I felt bad, but when EJ gave me a wedgie, I yoked him up and told him to calm the fuck down. He was laughing, but Pop could see I wasn’t kidding and broke it up.

  After that, Pop decided that it was time to roll out, so we left the mall and headed back toward Boston. Maybe fifteen minutes into the ride, EJ started whining that he had to pee. So we pulled over at a Walgreens and let him out. Pop and I stayed in the car. We both watched him walk into the store. Pop said to me, “He’s a good lil’ pickny. He just needs some coaching. I was hoping that you would take him under your wing.”

  Okay, so now I was officially upset. I thought to myself, This guy is on crack. I was so mad, so mad I just spoke my mind. “Listen, ’ight. Let me tell you something, Pop. This ain’t fixing to be no every week thing. After today don’t bring him ’round me no more. Test me if you think I’m playing. I’ll beat his lil’ ass and then what? I don’t fucking like him, okay?” Now I knew I was out of order for speaking to him like that, but I didn’t even care.

  He eyed me.

  I was so scared I couldn’t even raise my eyes from the floor. Pop was a loose cannon. I was waiting for him to snap and beat the hell out of me at any moment. I looked out the window and saw EJ walking back toward the car picking pieces of Laffy Taffy out of his braces. When the door creaked open and slammed, I let the seat back down again.

  By this point it was about afternoon and I’d had enough fuckery for one day. I grabbed my belly and started rocking back and forth. “Pop, I think I need a washout. I think my insides are rotting. I feel like I’m getting the Hershey squirts. You gotta take me home.” The only person in the car who believed me was EJ.

  “Aww, Big Bro, I’m sorry, man. You’re not feeling well?”

  I wanted to ask EJ if I had an echo, but I let it rock.

  “Yeah, son, I ain’t feeling so hot. It’s time to take it back to the hood, but I’ll get up wit’ you.”

  Knowing how I felt about him, Pop didn’t really say much. He just looked heated at me, but I didn’t care. He should have known he was dead wrong putting me through all this anyway. I was happy I was going home, but the fuckery wasn’t over. EJ was still in the car.

  I let the window down to get some air and rubbed my belly and started tapping my knee and biting my nails. About a half block away from my house, the car stopped.

  “Alright, pickny, get out and don’t shit yourself before you reach home.”

  EJ just thought “Daddy” was so funny. I threw him a pound and bounced. I didn’t even say bye to Pop.

  “You sure you okay? It was nice meeting you. Catch ya on the flip side,” EJ said, hanging halfway out the window like a monkey as the two of them pulled off.

  I didn’t go home. I walked back two blocks to the Tucker, my old elementary school, and sat on the to
p of the monkey bars. How could I go home? I knew Nina and Ma were going to want to know what I did all day. I couldn’t bullshit this one. Ma, she sees right through me. And I knew if I told Nina she was going to tell Ma.

  For a while I just sat there, reading the credits of my new CDs. I felt like everything today was my fault. I just knew Ma was going to be so mad at me for going out there and fraternizing with the enemy. I decided that this day was a secret I would take to the grave. Once the streetlights came on, I started walking home.

  When I turned the corner onto Lothrop, I saw everyone was outside. Ma, Nina, Nana and Papa Tanks, Aunty Diamond and her boyfriend. When they saw me, they started popping party poppers and singing “Happy Birthday” and throwing confetti. I just wanted to cry when I saw them, but I mustered up a half smile and walked up to the porch.

  6

  Objects in Motion

  It didn’t take long to be identified as one of the troublemakers in the seventh grade. In just one week I went from being a harmless wanderer to being a roaming troublemaker. My teachers in the sixth grade labeled me a hallway-wanderer and they stuck me in the “resource room” down in the basement where they hide the special education department. The school told Ma that I needed extra attention, but I think they just ain’t want me wandering the hallways like I do. I don’t really need the extra help, but the teacher, Ms. Lenny, damn near be doing my homework for me. I still feel like the punishment didn’t fit the crime, but I shouldn’t complain.

  See, there’s a big difference between being a wanderer and a troublemaker. Both stigmas raise teachers’ eyebrows and neck hairs, but when you’re a wanderer they’re still nice to you, they just want you to get to where you need to be. But when you’re a troublemaker you glow red in the eyes of the teachers, they straight up don’t want you around. Once you’re slapped with the troublemaker reputation, you’re as good as being a criminal in the streets and teachers police you like hallway cops looking for a reason to accuse you of something. Whether it’s a simple misunderstanding or not, if a teacher decides you’re guilty of something, you hardly get a chance to defend yourself, because “talking back” is rude once you’ve been accused.

  Nina laid down the troublemaker blueprint for me—her reputation hovered over me like a storm cloud. I think some of the teachers were a little bit afraid of her and they were glad she’d gone to high school. When I was in sixth grade and Nina was in eighth, teachers would see me in the hallways and ask, “Are you Nina Battel’s little brother?”

  I’d answer yes, and they’d break a fake smile and say, “Hmm, that’s nice,” and quickly walk away.

  Nina was a terror when she was a student at Pierce Middle School, and it feels like the teachers half expected me to be a certain way. A bad reputation’s a hard thing to outrun.

  Nina warned me that my science teach Mr. Stow was a real-life asshole. She had a wild run-in with him just a couple days after our progress reports came out last year, when Pop showed up at the house and started arguing with Ma and tripping about our grades. Nina was in don’t-fuck-with-me mode after all that happened, and I think Mr. Stow picked a real bad time to mess with her. He wasn’t even teaching the class she was in, her English teacher was sick and Mr. Stow was only substituting. Nina’s teacher left a worksheet for them to do and Nina said she wasn’t in the mood for busywork, so she folded her arms out in front of her and rested her head down on her desk.

  Nina said Mr. Stow wouldn’t leave her alone about looking like she was sleeping and after the third time he called her name and she ignored him, he clapped his book shut, hopped out of his seat, and stormed over to her desk and screamed, “Wake up! No one else in this room is allowed to sleep in class. Do you think you’re above the rules?”

  Nina said she looked up at him and stood up on her feet. She didn’t like how he rolled up on her like he was about to do something. As Nina tells it, she told him, “Wasn’t nobody asleep! Why you don’t get out my face with yo hot-ass breath? You know what? Write me a pass to the nurse’s office ’cause your fuckin’ face is making me sick.”

  She was sent to the principal’s office immediately, and she gladly took her three-day suspension. Ma screamed on her pretty bad about it and put her on punishment: no phone or TV, no friends over the house or going out on the weekends. Ma put Nina on lockdown and she acted like she didn’t care the entire time, which seemed to piss off Ma even more. I thought what she said to Mr. Stow was pretty funny and I was impressed with how she handled the whole situation, but in my case I wasn’t even looking for no trouble.

  Science has always been my best subject. I figured I’d just lie low and let the time pass, and kind of stay out of his way. But from the second I walked into Mr. Stow’s room on the first day of class, I felt him put the hawk-eyes on me. I took out a notebook and a pencil and I leaned back in my chair as he walked around the room desk to desk handing out the syllabus. When he got to my desk he paused holding the syllabus like he didn’t want to give it to me, blinking all fast behind his thick rectangular glasses. I looked up at him and he sort of snorted as he pushed his glasses up over the bridge of his nose.

  “Four on the floor, Andre Battel,” he said as his bushy eyebrows arced toward his receding hairline. I was surprised he already knew my name, but then quickly remembered what Nina had told me. He waited until I put all four legs of my chair on the ground and then he dropped the syllabus on my desk.

  The first unit was on Newton’s three laws of motion. Our homework assignment was to read the handout he’d given us explaining the whole concept and to come to class prepared to ask any questions. I read the handout and the concept seemed simple enough to me. Stuff doesn’t move unless something makes it move. Once something’s moving it’ll keep moving until something stronger stops it. It refreshed my memory, we learned that crap at the end of last school year. It seemed like the lab we did where we poured vinegar into a beaker with baking soda inside and it bubbled and fizzed over.

  The second day of class, I had no questions, so I sat in the back of the room gazing out the window, bored out of my mind. Even though it’s been two years now, I still daydream about having recess, being able to run off a little steam in the middle of the day. It was the only thing I looked forward to about school and I don’t know why they took it away.

  It’s so hard to sit through class with nothing to look forward to. My problem accepting school with no recess is what made my sixth-grade teachers start calling me a wanderer. I’d find any excuse to slip out of class and I’d walk around the hallways making faces at my friends in their classes, looking for someone to help me find recess, but all I ever found was myself in the principal’s office. My guidance counselor, Ms. Judge, was the one who called Ma and told her the teachers noticed that I was having trouble sitting through class. She recommended Ma take me to the doctor and get me tested for attention deficit disorder and that I start going to the “resource room.” Ma reluctantly agreed to me going to the “resource room” for more specialized attention, but when Ms. Judge kept urging Ma to get me tested for that attention disorder, Ma got really angry.

  I was in the living room when Ms. Judge called and I heard Ma tell her that I was an energetic growing boy and that I didn’t have no attention disorder, I just needed to listen better and behave. She also told Ms. Judge that her problem was that instead of working with the kids, she was trying to medicate all their personality away and that it was the last thing she was going to do to me. Ma ended the call and told me that they just don’t know how to deal with kids who are strong-minded.

  The kids at school call the “resource room” the “romper room” and they say only Skippys and Speds have to go there. God did not skip over me when he was giving out brains and I never really imagined myself being a special ed kid. At first I hated it, I sat out of window range so no one would see me in there with all the slow kids. I didn’t really need extra help all the time, and I hate the way Ms. Lenny talks to me like I’m dumb, always hinting me to
ward the right answer. There was a bunch of times I tried to tell her that I was okay and didn’t need her help nor did I belong in there with the slow kids, but it was like screaming underwater—it did no good. Soon enough I just gave in and got used to having Ms. Lenny breathing over my shoulder and spoon-feeding me the answers. I’m not stupid, class is just boring as hell but most of the time I got all my homework done before I went home. I hardly ever bring any homework home anymore, leaving me plenty of time to play basketball after school.

  The resource room was my next class after science and Mr. Stow’s deep voice felt like a sleeping pill, making time crawl. All I wanted to hear was the bell ring. It was warm outside and the window was open and a bluish-green dragonfly flew into the room. I watched it dart around for a while, it stole the entire class’s attention while Mr. Stow was writing on the board. When he turned around and realized everyone was watching the dragonfly, he rolled up a piece of newspaper and swatted at it until it flew back outside.

  Everyone refocused on him and I looked around the room. It felt like church, everyone was involved in something I didn’t completely understand. I mean, I understand church is about God, the pastor, and the congregation, and school is about class, teachers, and students, but what makes people pay attention and listen to teachers and pastors the way that they do? Looking around the room at everyone taking notes and paying attention, I just couldn’t figure it out.

  I got tired of thinking, the heat in the room made me start feeling sleepy, so I raised my hand and asked Mr. Stow if I could use the bathroom. He gave me a hall pass and I left. I figured maybe if I stretched my legs a little bit it would take the edge off. I was only gone for about ten minutes, which was good considering how long I would’ve been gone for last year. He didn’t even have to send someone to come looking for me.

  When I walked back into the classroom all my classmates were staring at me and giggling. I sat down at my desk and looked up at the blackboard and my name was written in big capital letters under the word “Detention” in the top right-hand corner of the board. All my classmates were sneaking glances at me and I felt my hands start shaking. My stomach dropped and I started feeling my heart beating in my throat. I couldn’t catch my breath, it sort of felt like I was breathing into a small paper bag. I raised my hand.