His thoughts were drowned out by NPR, Zed’s favorite station and the only one she ever tuned in to. “What is the legacy of Dwayne McDuffie?” the broadcaster asked. Apollo perked up, energized by a faint recognition of the name. His brow furrowed as the intro segment segued into an equally familiar symphonic music clip.
“Ughhh,” Zed moaned. “More cartoon shit.” She flicked off the radio, plunging Apollo into another chasm of mystery.
They rode in silence as Kai and Theo led them south down Highway 85. The car lurched to the right when Zed hit a left turn too quickly. “Sorry!” she shrieked. They continued down Church Street, passing homes and a school, eventually turning left down Evans Road, a winding side street. Zed slowed as they pulled into a church parking lot.
“Ohhh, Dwayne McDuffie basically invented the Justice League cartoon,” Apollo said with awe, looking up from his phone, mouth agape.
“And Static Shock,” Zed said matter-of-factly, removing her seat belt and clicking the trunk open. Apollo joined her outside of the vehicle, where she stood with a paint-splattered beige tote bag. He loved this chick.
Finished with the mystery of Dwayne, he returned to the mystery of Jerry. Kai and Theo solemnly led them to the back of the church, to a cemetery. Apollo found the stillness disturbing, especially among such obvious neglect. Layers of sunbaked leaves covered the graves, snapping like kettle-cooked chips as the crew traipsed forward. A loud rattle erupted from behind Apollo, sending him sprinting into Theo, who laughed.
“Did you guys not hear that?” Apollo asked, scanning the ground. “I think it might have been a rattlesnake.”
Kai joined Theo in laughter. Zed chuckled, tapping Apollo on the shoulder with a spray paint canister. Apollo frowned, embarrassed. He should have recognized that noise. “You guys are going to vandalize a grave? That’s… I don’t know about that.”
Zed grabbed his hand, leading him to a small headstone engraved, Here Lies Jerry Urich. 2001–2017. Apollo stared at the grave, squeezing Zed’s hand. He was stunned by how pristine the headstone was. It was made of iron, but it shone like alabaster. Even the leaves around the grave seemed immaculate, holy.
Zed was silent as paint sprayed from the canister, bathing the headstone in a coat of sanguine red. Apollo closed his eyes. A few feet away, Kai and Theo stood quietly. Apollo wondered if this was some sort of initiation. Were the Celestials a gang? He thought they just liked the name because they smoked a lot. Was he about to be jumped? And how much paint was in that damn can? The sharp hiss was relentless, a sample looped for too long. Or was that just Kai and Theo continuing to laugh? He didn’t know. His eyes were closed.
He opened them to find Zed standing completely still, her bony knees locked stiffly like the legs of a card table. “Come here,” she grunted over her shoulder, contorting her torso and offering her hand. Apollo stepped forward uneasily, scrutinizing Zed’s reddened palm.
“There’s no way Jerry, whoever he was, deserved that,” he stammered. “Seriously, guys, what the fuck is this? Two crimes in one day? Are we career criminals now?”
“Shut up, Apollo,” Kai said, approaching the grave. “Your homepage is The Pirate Bay. That’s crime. Graffiti is more like a public service.”
“This is a private graveyard,” Apollo retorted.
“Graffiti doesn’t believe in privacy, dipshit. And neither did Jerry. He always said he wanted to be cremated and spread into a river, but his mom buried him because she got a discount from the church. So we bury her bullshit.”
“Um, sure, but who the fuck is Jerry? You’re talking like this nigga was Master Splinter.”
“Jerry was who brought us all together,” Theo interjected. “He and I used to take tennis lessons in East Point when I first moved here. He was from Riverdale, like you guys. He introduced me to Zed and Kai and Sol, and we all had the same private coach in Pointe South after our East Point coach retired. He was on the tennis team with them back at your school before you got skipped and Sol got locked up and he got…”
“Shot,” Zed finished. “We were at AMC Southlake, heading to the car after seeing a movie, and he tried to break up a fight in the parking lot. It wasn’t even some heroic shit. They were just by his car. Three white dudes, two-on-one. And a cop got there and just let loose, no warning. We heard the shots before we even saw him. Jerry died on the spot. We didn’t even get to thank him for driving.”
Apollo stood still, unsure whether to ask for more details or to offer hugs. He looked over at Kai and Theo. Their smiles were gone. They’d been hiding this pain from Apollo for two whole years. Did they not trust him? They did everything together, every day. He knew their Twitter passwords and their home security codes. Could there really be a greater level of intimacy? Apollo examined them further. Maybe they had been hiding the pain from themselves, too. Maybe they were protecting him. There had to be some explanation.
Zed approached him, removing another paint canister from her bag and offering it to him. He nodded and accepted the can. Walking toward the grave, he shook it vigorously, gripping it tightly despite his sweaty palms. Impatiently, he painted a single giant C, its blackness defiantly erupting from the headstone’s fresh red coat. Apollo was angry—with his friends, with the situation, with how he knew the rest of the story would unfold.
Back in Zed’s car, Apollo frowned as he scoured the web for more details on the shooting. It hadn’t even been covered by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He found a brief blurb in the Clayton News Daily, the unwanted paper that his parents used to pay him to remove from the yard, his first chore. He didn’t read it; the headline said enough. “Grand jury declines to indict Morrow cop.”
Heated, he reached to adjust the temperature, mistakenly touching the radio dial instead. “Never touch a black woman’s radio,” Zed said in mockery of Kai, her unnatural neck roll selling the joke. Apollo moved his hand to her exposed thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.
He quickly removed his hand as they pulled into Zed’s driveway, where her mother and younger brother stood, eyeing them blankly. Apollo stared at the paint on his hands, unsure of what to do, especially once he realized he’d left a black handprint on Zed’s thigh. Zed was already outside of the car. He joined her and her family, waving at her mother, Mrs. Pang, as her younger brother, Tim, voiced his disapproval.
“You went paintballing without me again? Ughhh.”
“Sorry, kid, you’ve got to be at least seventeen.”
“But Apollo just turned seventeen last October, and he’s been going since last July!” Tim complained. Apollo stiffened, taking a quick glance at Mrs. Pang, who seemed to share Tim’s skepticism. This paintball alibi was losing steam that it barely had to begin with.
“Apollo looks older though, Tim, so my friend who gives us the hookup can get away with letting Apollo through because he won’t get carded again. Give it a break, kid. Three more years and you’re in.” She gave his forehead a slight nudge and stepped past him, toward the front door. Apollo followed, offering Tim a shrug. He was just glad no one had mentioned the handprint.
They immediately headed up the spiral staircase, proceeding past chronologically arranged family portraits and award certificates. Apollo always marveled at the strange sequence. In just fourteen steps, he would see Zed and Tim grow up and Mr. and Mrs. Pang’s restaurant become more successful. His dad always made family seem like such a burden, but Zed’s parents presented family as fundamental to success. Even the drunken cousin who Mr. Pang regularly scolded at barbecues was featured on the wall. Everybody got acknowledged.
Apollo walked past Zed’s room and entered the bathroom, humming to himself as he dutifully scrubbed black paint from his large palms. He entered Zed’s room to find her rifling through her dresser, looking back and forth between her phone and unfolded clothes.
“I can’t believe I used to wear this shit,” she said, shaking her head and holding up
a fishnetted black blouse studded with dull spikes. “It looks like a level from Twisted Metal.” She didn’t even smile at the comparison, she was that disgusted. Apollo chuckled as she flung the shirt over her head. Her goth days were an endless source of self-shame—and humor.
“I wish Theo didn’t send emails from his phone. It always cuts out the previous message for some reason. I think this is everything, though,” Zed said, gesturing toward a pile on the ground. Apollo could barely discern individual articles of clothing. He just saw a mass of black. She really was committed to this grown woman shit. “Let’s go to your house and get your stuff,” Zed said.
Apollo winced. He knew that no one was home, but he was convinced that his mom could smell when he’d been around a girl. Even when he wore the sensory bludgeon known as AXE body spray, his mom could quickly parse through the overpowering fragrance and find a faint trace of lavender body wash or cherry lip gloss that had rubbed off on him. He didn’t want to risk it.
His dad hadn’t quite told him to get a new girlfriend when he saw his and Zed’s prom pictures, but it was implied. “You need to be serious,” he’d said. “Be serious” was a phrase that his dad tended to use whenever Apollo expressed interest in something that wasn’t explicitly Nigerian. Apollo had never been given a definition, but he knew what it meant. Video games weren’t serious. Building computers wasn’t serious. Skateboarding wasn’t serious—unless the X Games were on; his dad loved other people on skateboards. Cambodian girlfriends definitely weren’t serious.
“Now’s not a good time. My bathroom’s dirty…”
“Okay,” Zed said, interrupting him. “I’ll meet you at Kai’s house.” She didn’t press like she usually did, but he could tell she was upset. She’d get over it, though. She always did.
She embraced him and led him down the stairs, stopping on the second step from the bottom to kiss him at eye level, a feat that was impossible at their normal heights. “We’re here for you, Apollo,” she said as he stepped outside. Apollo turned and smiled, her family smiling back at him, their faces encased in the distant hope of 1997.
° ° °
Kai rose silently, stepping carefully to allow Theo and Zed’s naps to continue undisturbed. Even without the air conditioning on, Theo had immediately fallen asleep on the couch. And when Zed had come over, she quickly followed suit, staking out her own side of the sofa and curling up like a heated shrimp. Ever since graduation, they’d all been subject to these sudden fits of fatigue. Kai hadn’t been tired this time, but she understood. From Jerry’s death to Sol’s imprisonment, they’d had an exhausting four years.
She opened the door and welcomed Apollo. He had also taken a nap; Kai could see the weariness tarrying on his face. And he had just woken up. His backpack was barely zipped.
“What are you kids up to tonight?” Mr. Forrester boomed from the back of the house as Kai and Apollo walked through the kitchen.
“Date night, Dad,” Kai yelled back.
“What did I tell you about yelling?” Mr. Forrester said, his voice closer. “Shouting is to be louder, yelling is to be angrier.” Stepping into the kitchen, he nodded at Apollo, cheesing. Kai didn’t reciprocate.
“So, what’s the date tonight? Dinner and a movie?”
“Actually, it’s dinner and a movie and a movie,” Kai told him. “There’s a double feature down at Landmark downtown. Total Recall with Arnold and Total Recall with Colin.”
“Yuck. And dinner?” Mr. Forrester asked.
“Undecided.”
“Well, when you decide, text me. I might need you to bring me something back. Your mom was supposed to pick something up, but she had to run to your aunt’s house. Who knows when she’ll be back. Don’t bring me back no Waffle House, though. I’m too old for that,” he said, gesturing toward the bathroom.
Kai grimaced and walked to the living room, where she found Theo and Zed finally awake. She pointed at the clock, snapping them to attention. It was 7:38 p.m. “Later, Dad,” she announced as they filed out the door. She made sure it was a shout.
A quick fifteen minutes later and they were at Sol’s Waffle House again. Sol was waiting outside, no longer wearing her uniform, circling the parking lot on a bike. “We can’t carry that,” Theo quickly told her, rolling down his window as he and Kai pulled into the lot. Sol shrugged, returning it to its place near the front door. “It’s stolen anyway,” Kai heard her mutter.
Sol opened the back door on the passenger’s side and slid in. “Nice,” she said, fingering the bright red hairs of Kai’s new wig. “I think we’re ready.” Theo nodded then calmly reversed, veering left onto Old National and then right onto the on-ramp for I-85 North.
Traffic was light. Theo hugged the passing lane for the entire trip, his speed undisturbed by slow drivers or lurking cops, a rare experience. Eventually, he got off on Stanton Road, heading north toward Campbellton. He hit a right on Campbellton then teetered onto Central Villa, a side street, slowing down and parking. Apollo and Zed pulled in front of him. Kai and Sol sat quietly as he turned off his GPS, turned on the GPS blocker Apollo had gotten from god-knows-where, and made a call using one of the burners. “I’m here,” he said briefly. A gruff voice mumbled to him on the other end, then he hung up.
“Is everything good?” Sol asked, leaning over the armrest.
“Yeah,” Theo said, looking into his side mirrors. Kai could tell he was nervous. He didn’t know this area or this guy they were meeting; he probably couldn’t even name a rapper from this part of the city. She damn sure couldn’t. Sol leaned back, clearly unpersuaded. Kai didn’t blame her.
A slate-colored Astro van coasted up behind them, creeping up to the bumper and flashing its lights. Kai watched the side mirror as Theo got out to meet the driver.
“George,” she heard the driver say as his reflection stuck his hand out his window, the van’s engine still grumbling.
“Jack,” Theo replied, meeting George’s hand with his own. They seemed to find comfort in their mutual deceptions.
“So, Jack, you got the money?” George asked.
“Yep, all I need are the keys,” Theo responded.
“Good. I filled her up, got her some oil, and cleaned her out. Should be good to go.”
“Okay,” Theo said, brandishing his wallet. He removed ten one-hundred-dollar bills and counted them aloud, slowly. George silently watched. When Theo finished, George turned off the car and stepped out, handing him the keys. He was a strange man. Kai couldn’t tell his age. But his wardrobe, a breezy linen suit with impeccably white Pumas and Adidas high socks, placed him somewhere between thirty-two and thirty-nine. He probably has a Freaknik shirt, she thought.
Theo took the keys and climbed into the van, testing the engine with a few revs. It sounded fine. Kai could sense his satisfaction. The air conditioning must have been on. Satisfied, he climbed down, putting the cash in George’s hand. George quickly pocketed it, nodding his head. He started to walk off, but then he took out three hundred dollars and handed it back to Theo. “The brakes don’t work so well,” he said cryptically, again turning to walk away. He quickly disappeared around the block.
Theo hopped back into the van. Kai and Zed joined him, gas containers in tow, eager. Finally, it was going down.
“You gave Apollo your keys, right?” Theo asked, watching Zed fumble with the front passenger seat seat belt. She nodded affirmatively, clicking the buckle into place. Theo turned his eyes to the rearview mirror. “And Sol has my keys, right?”
He flinched as his question was answered by a hellish flash from his Civic’s bright brake lights. “Yep!” Kai chortled. Theo cracked a smile, his nervousness dissolving.
Theo started the van, accelerating and turning into the street in order to pull up beside Sol. Kai thought he was going to stop, but they kept rolling.
° ° °
“Typical,” Sol sighed as she
watched the van continue rolling despite the red gleam of its brake lights. Impatiently, she pulled out the burner she’d been given and dialed Andromeda, one of the phone’s only two programmed numbers. Zed answered, muttering something about brakes. Sol didn’t laugh as the van’s taillights crawled out of sight. She placed Zed on hold and dialed Titan, the phone’s other programmed number. Apollo answered, bewildered. She shushed him and explained the situation, along with a change of plans, hanging up before he could respond. Clicking back over to Zed, she commandeered the mission.
“Hop out the van. Now. I think you got got. Don’t forget the gas!” she barked, ending the call.
Moments later, she heard a loud crash. Unfazed, she sat patiently, waiting. Apollo came first, sliding into the passenger’s seat. A few minutes later, Zed, Theo, and Kai reappeared, ambling toward the car in a cloud of sweat and defeat. “It’s a bust,” Theo declared, approaching the driver’s side.
“Get in,” Sol ordered, gesturing toward the back seat. Theo hesitated.
“But you’re in my seat,” he complained.
“Just fucking get in, dude,” Apollo ordered. “Change of plans.”
Theo obliged. Zed and Kai followed suit.
“This is what we’re doing,” Sol announced. “We’re going to take Theo’s car, do the tag, torch the car, then file a police report saying the car was stolen at gunpoint when we got out the car at the Fort McPherson MARTA station, headed to the movies. This is better than me wasting my time going to actually pick up movie tickets while you guys fuck this up.”
“What about Zed’s car?” Kai pondered aloud. Zed perked up, concerned.
“We’re going to leave it here,” Sol said, starting the engine and turning the car back toward Campbellton. “This neighborhood is fine. It’s just old people and their ratchet grandkids.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” Zed said.
Within minutes, they were at the entrance to Fort McPherson, an old military base that was being redeveloped into a movie studio.
In the Heat of the Light Page 2