The Right Side of Reckless

by Whitney D. Grandison

  Sure.

  “Why don’t you just vape?” It sure as hell would be more tolerable than the stench of his cigarettes.

  Raviv scrunched up his face. “Vaping is for douchebags.”

  “So it’s your calling?” I quipped.

  Raviv chuckled as he reached out and shoved me. “Easy, man.”

  At the park, he pushed a headband through his thick hair, then stretched on the side of the field while we waited for his friends.

  I took in our surroundings and almost chuckled at how completely normal this all was. Me, about to do something clean-cut like play soccer in my free time. None of my boys back home would believe the sight. Shit, they’d clown me, and I’d let them.

  This was better, though. Safer.

  Things were shaping up.

  “There you go,” Raviv was saying.

  I turned, catching a tall, lanky boy I recognized from school approaching. His thick black curls blew in the wind as he squinted to get a good look at us.

  “I told you I was comin’,” he spoke up. His accent said he lived in a Spanish-speaking household.

  Raviv gestured from me to the boy. “Guillermo, Kayde. Kayde, Guillermo.”

  Kayde was wearing a plain T-shirt, exposing a deeply tanned arm with a growing sleeve of tattoos. He was close enough that I could smell he’d waked and baked.

  “You bring any?” Raviv asked, alluding to Kayde’s scent.

  “You know I did.”

  Raviv faced me. “You smoke?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t afford dirty piss.”

  “You’re really on probation, huh?” Raviv took a moment to observe me.

  “Yeah.”

  He lifted his chin at me. “What for?”

  After talking to Regan, I didn’t feel so bad stating the facts. “Assault.”

  Kayde blinked while Raviv whistled. “Don’t fuck with this one,” Raviv said.

  “New start, you know? I just can’t mess up,” I went on. “I never smoked or drank before anyway.”

  Raviv accepted this. “I do!” he said proudly as he grinned at his friend.

  I was only a year older, but after the shit I went through, it felt like more. The me one year ago was probably like these guys—no, he was these guys. For their sake, I hoped they weren’t out of control elsewhere.

  Andy showed up ten minutes later and we paired off two and two with Kayde on my team.

  I wanted to take it easy, but it was clear once the game started that Raviv did have an ego, one Andy matched.

  They ran fast and hard, scoring their first four goals effortlessly.

  Kayde was an adequate teammate, and because I knew he was on the soccer team, too, I put in more effort.

  Running back and forth, aggressively attempting to steal the ball or keep it, was physically demanding.

  Funny thing was, it was actually fun.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later we called game, with Raviv and Andy coming out victorious. Even though we’d lost, neither Kayde nor I wore our loss with bitterness.

  “You’ve got what it takes,” Raviv was saying as we sat along the field hydrating.

  “Yeah, man. You’re a natural,” Andy insisted.

  Kayde was lying on his back with his arm over his eyes, resting quietly.

  Organized sports just weren’t my thing. “Must be in my blood, practically my whole family plays. I have played recreationally growing up.”

  “That should tell you something,” Raviv said.

  My only interest was in finishing my community service and staying out of trouble. Joining the soccer team just didn’t appeal to me. “Nah.”

  They let it go as Raviv’s cell phone pinged. By the way his face lit up, I knew his girlfriend had texted him, or sent him a photo.

  Andy regarded me curiously. “You seeing anyone?”

  I focused down at the grass. “Nah.”

  “At least not yet,” Raviv chimed in, elbowing his best friend. “I’ve seen the way girls look at you.”

  His remark made me wonder if he’d seen his own girlfriend’s wandering eye.

  “Girls and I don’t mix right now,” I told them.

  “I see you still hangin’ around Jenaya,” Raviv said, once again being suggestive.

  Really, Jenaya was cool, but much more on a friendly level.

  For some reason, Regan crept into my mind, and I tried to block her out. The image of her in that dress the previous evening was stuck in my head, that and the feel of her skin, the sight of her smile, the sound of her laugh, the look of frustration when she sucked at pool...

  No, girls and I did not mix at all.

  The trouble with girls was they were fun, they were wild, and they were so damn fine.

  For my parents’ sake, and mine, I was putting on my own little chastity belt.

  San Guillermo.

  “I already told you that wasn’t a thing. Naya’s a friend,” I clarified. “She’s actually a good person once you get to know her.”

  Raviv held his hands up. “Easy. I was just sayin’. There’s more options out there, though.” His attention was back on his phone. “So much fun you could be having.”

  Kayde was dead to the world, while Andy was rolling his eyes.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Andy spoke up. “Someone oughta take that phone from him and talk some sense into him.”

  Raviv made a face. “You’d have to pry it from my cold dead hands.”

  “I bet.” Andy smirked. “Especially with all the filthy pictures you’ve got in there.”

  Raviv took the remark as a compliment and I found myself shaking my head. “Be careful, Raviv,” I said. “Have fun, sure, but you don’t want to be too crazy. Being bad isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Before you know it, your parents won’t be able to look you in the eye anymore, and the girl you really like won’t want anything to do with you because you’re so screwed-up and risky.”

  Raviv stood, dusting himself off and looking around the park before meeting our gazes with a careless shrug. “No problem, Guillermo, I’m good. Matter of fact, I’m going to go see Camila in a little bit and we’ll keep it PG just for you.”

  From the weed to his girl, I hoped Raviv kept it all under control. He wouldn’t want to walk this road I was on. No one would.

  * * *

  Raviv made good on his word about meeting up with his girl. As soon as we made it back, he rushed inside to shower and take off once again.

  Camila must’ve been sending him some pretty tempting pictures.

  I’d never sent a nude, but I’d received my fair share of them. At a time, Tynesha had been that ballsy.

  The thought of her had me getting back into my Charger and driving to Briar Park Community Center for a little one-on-one with a punching bag. After nearly losing my shit in front of Jenaya and Avery at the movie theater, I needed a good round or two.

  When I walked inside, I paused and sucked in a breath. Regan was at the front desk, and she wasn’t alone.

  Troy was leaning over the counter, staring her down and saying something that had her forcing a smile on her face. Just like she often did at school, Regan seemed to dwindle before him. Troy didn’t notice.

  She spotted me, her smile turning genuine as she lifted her hand to wave.

  I merely tipped my head toward her, not wanting to intrude.

  Troy turned, catching sight of me, his demeanor less than friendly.

  “You working today?” Regan asked.

  “Nah, I figured I’d punch the bag a few times.”

  “Oh,” Regan said. “There’s a few people in there, but it’s mostly empty today. Have fun.”

  Her boyfriend’s gaze was fixed on her, but she seemed oblivious.

  “Thanks,” I told her before making my way towa
rd the exercise room. Or, at least, I tried to.

  “Hey.” Troy called out to me, causing me to stop and turn around. He was still leaning over the counter, a cold look in his eye. “Thanks for taking my girl home last night.”

  If he kept being such a dickhead, she wouldn’t be his girl for very much longer, whether I helped her out or not. I opened my mouth, wanting to ask him what was up.

  Footsteps sounded down the hall, and I froze at the arrival of Mrs. London. Her face lit up at the sight of Troy, a warm smile stretching across her lips. “Troy! Good to see you.”

  His features quickly morphed into happiness as he focused on Regan’s mother, going over to hug her.

  “How was your anniversary date?” Mrs. London asked.

  Troy was grinning, his gaze going to Regan, then to me. “Great.”

  I buried my annoyance and went into the gym. Sure enough, a few older guys were on the machines, lifting, jogging, or working with the battle rope.

  The punching bags were free, though, and I welcomed the task before me.

  There was a trainer in the room overseeing an elderly man who must’ve been recovering from surgery. He helped me bandage my hands, then left me to work off my aggression.

  I quickly rid myself of my tank top, then plugged in my wireless earphones. With the loud rap in my ears to motivate me, I approached the nearest bag and sized it up.

  The first punch I landed into the mass of leather felt good. But the pain stinging in my fists and arms after an hour’s worth of punching wasn’t enough to stop the ache deep within my chest, in my heart.

  I threw more and more blows into the bag, wishing I had more free time, wishing I could take boxing and have someone to spar with. As the thought of Tynesha came to mind, I wished for a speedy year and threw a lethal blow.

  All the while fighting off the temptation of a certain dimpled smile.

  Regan

  For the first time in a long time, I was having fun with Troy. Sunday evening, he came and took me to the last night of a local carnival. We were double dating. Or, according to Tommy J, “hanging out” with him and a girl from his sophomore class, Jasmine Cooley.

  I knew her only in passing, since she was a year younger and she hung in a different crowd than Avery, but she was always extra nice to me, possibly due to my affiliation with Troy. Jasmine was a very pretty girl with big silky 3B hair, and her dark brown skin always seemed to radiate with a glow most would envy.

  “Yo, we needed this,” Troy said to me.

  Ahead of us Tommy and Jasmine were eyeing different rides and booths. They weren’t holding hands like Troy and I were.

  “We did.” In a move to be affectionate, I snuggled close to him.

  “I care about you, you know?” Troy said to me. “I know I’ve been acting impatient and rude lately, but I do care about you.”

  I put a smile on my face, ignoring the impulse to point out you didn’t treat people terribly when you cared about them. Troy was trying, and for that I tried, too.

  “Never again, okay?” I said.

  He squeezed me close, holding on to my gaze and what felt like my heart, too. “I can’t lose you, Rey. I don’t want to be that guy. I like going out, but no girl can replace you. No other girl could put up with my rants about football, no girl could make me laugh when I’m pissed or argue with me about stupid stuff. We’ll do things your way.”

  There was no reason to be upset or fight anymore. “Okay.”

  “Hey.” Troy perked up. “I’ve got a college visit coming up, you should come with me and check out their accounting programs.”

  Accounting. The bane of my existence. “What if I don’t like accounting?”

  His brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean? You’re probably just nervous and psyching yourself out.”

  Wrong. If there was one thing I was certain of these days, as I tried to figure myself out, it was that I wasn’t nervous about accounting—I hated it. I hated math. I didn’t want to spend my life staring at numbers all day.

  “Actually...” I finally had time to confess how much I loathed my vocation, how much I couldn’t stand walking into Accounting 101, how much my ears wanted to bleed whenever my dad brought up his daily question about it. “I’m not too—”

  “Bet you can’t do it, Five.”

  We’d come to a stop behind Tommy and Jasmine. They were studying a game that tested your skill in knocking down empty soda bottles. Tommy puffed up his chest.

  Troy rolled his eyes. “Bet.”

  Maybe we’d talk later.

  One thing about Tommy and Troy, there seemed to be an unspoken competition between them. Tommy specifically chose the number 50 for his jersey because he swore he was ten times better than Troy. I was never sure who was the best of the two of them. Still, as the boys got ready to compete, I made sure to stand by Troy’s side.

  He looked back at me and grinned.

  “Which prize you want, JC?” Tommy asked Jasmine.

  She eyed the array of stuffed characters hanging on the wall of prizes to claim. “Ooh, Stewie from Family Guy.”

  “Say less.”

  There were so many iconic cartoon characters on the wall. If Troy won, I wanted the enormous stuffed Clifford the Big Red Dog. I loved the color red and I loved dogs; it was a win-win.

  I stood back to give them room and Jasmine did the same. The guy behind the counter counted down from three and the boys immediately commenced their game.

  Their first attempt saw them both as losers, prompting them to shovel out five more dollars to play another round. By their third try, I tapped out and found myself wandering away to people watch.

  Couples and kids with their parents were lining up by the vendor offering fresh French fries, hot dogs, nachos, and ice-cold drinks. I drifted across the walkway from the boys and leaned against the railing to watch parents ride the carousel with their children. I’d always had a thing for carousels. When I was a kid and my parents would bring me to the mall, it was a must that I rode it. Sometimes, I questioned the age limit and still wanted to ride.

  Even with all the commotion from the rides, games, and chatter in the air, I could still hear someone playing their radio loudly nearby. An old Taylor Swift song was on; she was singing about sparks flying whenever she saw some guy. It was a sweet love song, but hearing it, and seeing girls my age walking hand in hand with their guys with glitter in their eyes, I couldn’t relate.

  I swallowed this thought. Troy and I were on a new path, a better path; we were content and okay.

  “Hey! There you are.” Troy materialized beside me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see it?”

  I put on a chipper face, ignoring the pop tune still playing. “See what?”

  “Me kick Tommy’s ass.”

  Peeking back at the booth, I could see Tommy playing against Jasmine. At least he wasn’t a sore loser.

  Troy tapped my shoulder and when I returned my attention to him, he held up the big stuffed Clifford the Big Red Dog. “For you.”

  A huge grin spread across my face. “Oh my God!”

  “I know you like dogs, so I figured you’d love this,” Troy reasoned.

  I stood on my toes and kissed him repeatedly. “I do, I love it, thank you.”

  Troy just stared at me, a softness in his eyes. “You make me feel like a winner, Rey. I wanted to win something special for you.”

  My heart swelled as I hugged Clifford to my chest. With all Troy’s football accolades, it felt good to know that I made him feel like a winner, too. “I’ll love it forever, I promise.”

  “Let’s go ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggested. He took me under his arm and led me to the ride. The smell of fresh elephant ears drifted to me, and the sight of a little girl carrying a huge powdered sugar–coated elephant ear had my mouth watering in envy. I had to get on
e as soon as we got off the ride.

  Once on the wheel, I stayed snuggled up to Troy, trying to keep the mood.

  “You and me, Rey, to the top.” He pointed high above. I didn’t doubt for a moment that he would reach such heights; it was written in the stars. “Just you and me.”

  Him and me.

  People liked Troy and me together. We were goals to them. Trouble was, I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to be Regan, but I knew deep down Troy could never just be Troy. He was Troy Jordan, MVP of the Arlington High Panthers, soon-to-be college football star on his road to the NFL. He wasn’t the first promising baller out of Arlington High; there were a couple other boys who’d gone into the league from previous classes. But he was the most watched, the most loved, and the most rooted for. He would never have normal.

  I stared into his eyes, putting a smile on my face as I hugged my stuffed Clifford close. “Yeah, you and me.”

  Troy grinned, coming close and pressing his lips to mine in a sweet, chaste kiss.

  There were glowing lights all around us, but as I looked on, I didn’t see any sparks.

  * * *

  Troy dropped me off, obliging me by not walking me to the door. It was better this way, so I didn’t have to watch my father trip over himself with praise and admiration as he so often did at the sight of Troy.

  Instead, I kissed him good-night, thanked him for Clifford, then slipped into the house. With my back against the door, I breathed, long and deep.

  “How’d it go?” My father was in the TV room. No surprise there.

  Entering the room would instigate a full-on conversation, so I only poked my head in, finding him watching a football game as he sat back with a glass of water. The earnest expression on his face made my heart clench—it was like a child was looking at me, expecting the world of me, and I had to come through.

  “It was great.” I held up my gift. “Troy won me this.”

  My father cracked a smile. “Nice of ’im.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to go shower and catch up on homework before bed,” I said.

  He waved me off, and I carried myself across the foyer to the staircase. I should’ve gotten into acting, I was so good at it.