Snitch

by Allison van Diepen

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Is it true what they’re saying about Eric?”

  She hadn’t talked to me at school in ages, and this was what she wanted to talk about? I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  I looked up at her. “What do you care?”

  “I always cared.”

  I patted the cold linoleum floor beside me. “Wanna have lunch, then?”

  “Uh, I already ate.”

  I snorted. What did I expect? She just wanted the gossip to bring back to the girls. “I got nothing for you.”

  “Well, okay. See you later.” She hurried off.

  Fuck you, too, I thought, and balled up my lunch.

  * * *

  “Going home?”

  Black Chuck popped up by my locker after the last bell. I hadn’t even thought he was at school today.

  “Yeah. You?”

  He nodded.

  “Great.” I zipped up my coat and slung my book bag over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Outside, I took a breath of cold air and let it blast through my lungs. Relief. I was going to make it home today. Nobody would touch me if I was with Black Chuck.

  I glanced at him. “Don’t wanna see me get jumped, eh?”

  He didn’t smile. “No.”

  “Do you plan to escort me to and from school every day?” I asked.

  “Until everybody calms down, I just might do that.” His eyes were serious. “I’m sorry for how I acted on the phone. I know you had no clue what Eric was doing.”

  I nodded, hot tears flooding my eyes.

  He put his arm around me. “I’m trying to get the gang to chill. They don’t know you like I do. Don’t worry, Ju. I won’t let them touch you.”

  “Th-thanks.”

  “They’ll see the truth eventually. They’re all riled up right now and looking for someone to blame.”

  We got on the bus and grabbed a seat near the front. I was so thankful to have Black Chuck with me. He was a true friend, maybe the only one I’d ever had.

  We didn’t talk as the bus made its stops. I’d never seen Black Chuck so depressed, not even with all the drama with his mom over the years. Losing Scrap had really taken something out of him.

  My cell phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

  MEET ME IN PROSPECT PARK @ 4 ENTRANCE NEAR LIBRARY. DONT TELL ANYBODY. E.

  Oh my God.

  I quickly put away my phone, glancing at Black Chuck. He was staring out the window, in his own world.

  “So we gonna get burgers or what?” he said.

  “Later, yeah. Dad just texted me a grocery list. I’ll meet you at the A-raab place at six.”

  “A’ight,” he said, his eyes still fixated on the window.

  PAYBACK

  It was time to learn the truth.

  I sat on the steps of the library, hugging myself against the cold. I was desperate to see him, but terrified of what he might tell me. I wanted him to be innocent of everything, but it didn’t seem possible.

  “Divine.”

  I looked up. Eric’s hair was messed up by the wind. His dark eyes were soft. He was dressed different than usual—the blue jeans were tighter, the jacket was wool, the black sweater underneath was almost preppy.

  I got up. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He didn’t come closer.

  “What’s going on, Eric?”

  “Walk with me.”

  We headed into Prospect Park. It was deserted today, cold and gloomy. The trees were dead and the ground was almost frozen, but there was no snow to bring out the kids.

  I waited for him to start. Once we were walking down a path through trees, he did.

  “My name’s Eric, but my last name isn’t Valienté. I’m not from Detroit. I’m from Bay Ridge.”

  “You’re from Brooklyn?”

  “Born and raised. It’s where I fucked up my life. I joined the Latin Kings when I was fourteen.”

  “And I believed your story about the tattoo. I’m such an idiot.”

  “It was a good lie, Julia. My lies had to be good if I was gonna do what I had to do. Don’t blame yourself for buying it. Everybody did. Even Darnell.”

  “Who?”

  “Scrap. I don’t use gang names anymore. Not since I left the Kings.”

  “So you’re not a spy for the Kings?”

  “No. I left a couple of years ago. I was sick of living that way, sick of being in and out of juvey. I wanted to turn my life around, and I did. But last year the cops caught me with weed—enough that they could charge me with dealing. They were gonna try me as an adult because I was eighteen, but they offered me a deal to reduce my sentence. They needed a kid to infiltrate the Flatbush Junction Crips.”

  “Black Chuck was right about you.”

  “Yeah, well, the cops gave me a chance to put away Darnell Charles. I wasn’t gonna pass that up.”

  “But you didn’t know him, did you? Why would you want to put him away?”

  “Because of my brother.” His face hardened. “He was just a kid, running with the Kings, dealing where he shouldn’t have been. Darnell could’ve just scared him off. Instead he stabbed him and left him to die.” His eyes had the same dark intensity they’d had the first time he’d mentioned his brother. “There were witnesses—Crips, bystanders. The whole neighborhood knew who did it, but everybody was too afraid to talk to the cops.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I told you that joining the gang was for my brother. It was true.”

  I nodded, my throat feeling tight.

  He stared at the paved path. “I know you’re wondering how you fit into all this. I owe you an explanation for that too. Approaching the Crips on the street wasn’t gonna work. I needed to find another way in. Cops thought I should go through Black Chuck. We figured the best way to get to him was through you.”

  I felt something inside me crack and splinter. Eric had been using me the whole time. And I’d made it so easy for him, falling for him right away, giving him the perfect chance to get close to Chuck.

  But one thing didn’t make sense. “Why did you want to get back together after we broke up, then? You were in already, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Getting back together was probably a mistake. I told myself it made a better cover—that it would look too convenient if we broke up right after I joined the gang. But . . . that isn’t the real reason I did it.” He glanced at me. “I never meant to start liking you.”

  “So you’re saying it wasn’t all an act,” I said.

  “Right.” His jaw was tight and he tried not to look at me. I didn’t know if he was telling me the truth or just what he thought I wanted to hear.

  “What about when I joined the gang?” I asked. “Did that help your plan?”

  “If anything, it fucked with it. I didn’t want you to join. I never thought you would.”

  I said nothing. I’d never thought I would either.

  He looked me dead in the eye. “You have to get out, Julia.”

  “That’s not your problem.”

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “Yeah, I am. Maybe I want to get out. Can you tell me how? They want to jump me anyway, because they think I had something to do with what you did. If I ask them to jump me out, I’ll get seriously fucked.”

  “That’s exactly why you have to get out. Trust me. Staying in will fuck up your life. Find a way. Get your dad to move. Go live with relatives in another city. Do whatever you gotta do. You know what I found out about gangs, Julia? It’s always the same deal. Once you sign up, you’re nothing more than a bitch taking orders. You think you got power, you got nothing. I am done with it, Julia. I am so fucking done.”

  I wished I was done too.

  But I knew I was trapped.

  “I’ll try to get out,” I mumbled. Whatever try meant. “I’d better go. You’re not even supposed to be talking to me.”

  “I couldn’t leave without telling you th
e truth.”

  “You’re leaving Brooklyn?”

  “Tonight. My mom is already living in—”

  “Don’t. Don’t tell me anything the cops don’t want me to know.”

  “But I want you to know. I’m moving to Miami. Most of my family’s from down there. I’m gonna study culinary management.”

  “That part was real.”

  “Other parts too.” His eyes burned into me. “It doesn’t have to be over.”

  I tore my eyes away. How could it not be over? How could I ever trust him again? He’d lied to everybody. He’d done it to reduce his own sentence and to avenge his brother. But who would save Jazz’s brother, Clyde? Or the other lieutenants who’d been arrested? Didn’t they deserve a second chance too?

  But that was the thing about the game. It wasn’t fair. Eric knew that better than anyone. He’d taken the deal, avenged his brother, and earned himself another life. Shouldn’t I give him props for that?

  “I don’t expect you to make any decisions right away,” he said. “If you want to contact me, this is how.” He handed me a folded piece of paper. “This has my real name and my info in Miami. It’s up to you. Even if you just want to call and ask me more questions, I’ll answer them. No strings.”

  “You shouldn’t give me this.”

  “Memorize it if you have to. I trust you to keep me safe. Good-bye, Julia.”

  He hugged me. I stood there, stiff, not letting myself hug him back.

  I didn’t want to let him walk away, but I didn’t know what else to do. Should I tell him I forgave him when I wasn’t sure if I did? All I knew was that, whoever he was, I didn’t want him to go.

  And then, in the bushes, I saw a flash of blue.

  “Eric!”

  He didn’t see the two guys in blue ski masks until they were on top of him.

  It all happened so fast. Eric got a punch in the face, then in the stomach. He stumbled back, dodging the next one, then came back fiercely, launching his weight at one of the guys, knocking him off his feet. Eric smashed a kick into the guy’s side, but the other attacker put him in a choke hold, dragging him to the ground. Eric struggled like a maniac, but the guy on the ground got on top of him, digging his knees into his chest.

  I didn’t think. I ran up, fumbling in my pocket for my pepper spray, popping off the cap. The Crips weren’t paying attention to what I was doing—they were focused on keeping Eric pinned. I ran up beside them, pointed my pepper spray right into the face of the guy on Eric’s chest, and let it fly. He fell back, bawling, throwing a hand over his eyes. I didn’t see the switchblade until he lashed out.

  I fell back, losing my focus, losing my legs.

  “The fuck did you do?” one of the ski masks screamed.

  I knew that voice.

  They scrambled to their feet and ran. I was on the ground, pressing my hands to the pain, feeling my gloves get wet, soaking up blood like a sponge.

  “Oh God. Oh God.” I saw Eric above me, the bottom half of his face covered in blood. He’ll be okay, I thought, somewhere in the fog. Probably just a broken nose.

  As for me . . .

  He took off his jacket and pressed it against my stomach. Hot pain flashed through me. My scream came out like a groan.

  Black spots clouded my vision. Or maybe it was his blood dripping into my face.

  Part of the pressure lifted off my stomach. I twisted in agony, glimpsed his shaky hand fumbling with his cell.

  911. He was calling 911.

  “. . . Prospect . . . hurry . . . it won’t stop!”

  Cold. I was so cold. Shivering uncontrollably. I started to slide.

  “Julia stay with me!” he shouted. But he sounded miles away now, beyond a void I couldn’t cross.

  And I was going under.

  LIFELINE

  I wanted to stay with u. They made me go. They dragged me away from u. They told me if I didnt get on a plane theyd lock me up for my own protection. I called the hospital every day. They wouldnt tell me anything about u or even if u were still at this hospital. Finally they let me talk to ur dad. He doesnt know why this happened. I didnt tell him anything. He told me ud be resting for a while. He told me hed give u ur cell when u woke up so u could read this. Please let me know when you wake up. I need to know ur ok. Please. Love, Eric.

  I glanced at my dad, who was sitting beside the bed. He looked like hell, unshaven, dark circles under his eyes. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been here or how many days I’d been here. I was groggy from the drugs and wondered if I could float the hell out of here.

  “I thought hearing from Eric might cheer you up.” He searched my eyes. “Can I ask what happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t sure what to do with what I knew, but until I figured it out, I had to keep my mouth shut. I shifted a little in the bed, feeling a dull ache in my abdomen, remembering when it felt like fire. “When am I getting out of here?”

  “Probably a few more days.”

  “How many stitches did I get?”

  “I’m not sure.” His dark eyes were sad. “Your liver ruptured, Julia. You’re going to be laid up for a while.”

  I wasn’t sure what a ruptured liver meant, but it terrified me. I wished I hadn’t asked.

  “But I will get better, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I hoped he was telling me the truth. I knew that when you’re sick, people tell you what you want to hear.

  I looked back down at the cell, pressing reply to Eric’s message:

  I MISS U SO MUCH.

  NO REWIND

  The hospital was wack, but drugs kept me dreamy. When I got home, they eased up on my drugs, which made the pain worse and killed my buzz.

  For the few first days, my dad stayed home, but then he had to go back to work. I was all alone with my thoughts and a darkness that could swallow me.

  I didn’t know what I would’ve done without my poetry. When you’re laid up and want to cry but don’t want to bust your stomach open, you have to find some way of venting your feelings. I filled up a whole notebook with poems. I even sent one in to the poetry contest, determined to win that fifty bucks.

  Q called twice. I didn’t answer the phone. Of course she would call—it was the right thing to do. Q always did the right thing. We didn’t have that in common, did we?

  Truth was, we didn’t have anything in common anymore. All we had was the past.

  I was done pretending. It was time to be real.

  I decided to do her a favor and not return her calls.

  Black Chuck called too, I guess to make sure I wasn’t dead. I didn’t answer his calls either.

  At least I had my dad. He didn’t drop the ball on me. He actually hung out with me when he wasn’t working. I’d never watched so much ESPN in my life, but it was cool having him around. He even started inviting Gina over to chill with us. Sometimes she stopped in when he wasn’t there, just to chat or cook for me. Turned out she wasn’t half bad.

  And besides my dad, I had a lifeline. A lifeline I talked to on the phone every single night. His name was Eric Vargas, not Valienté.

  He was a snitch, the most notorious one in Brooklyn.

  He was the guy who brought down Scrap and the lieutenants of the FJC and then disappeared. Yeah, he was a snitch, and I loved him.

  * * *

  “I’ve been stalling on giving a statement to the cops,” I told Eric one night on the phone. “I said I wasn’t feeling well enough yet. They know I’m full of shit.” I sighed. “It would’ve been easier if you’d just told them who jumped us.”

  “I didn’t know a hundred percent who they were until you told me, Julia. This is your call, not mine.”

  “But I don’t know what to do!”

  “Your safety has to be your number-one concern. Do you think the Crips will come after you if you talk?”

  “I think they’ll come after me anyway. They blame me for letting you infiltrate. I’m sure they see the fact that I me
t with you that day as proof.”

  “If you think they’ll come after you anyway, why are you stalling on telling the cops?”

  “Because . . . you know why. I don’t want Chuck to go to jail. But Rolo—I’d love to see him go down. Who knows what he might’ve done to you with that blade?”

  “I don’t give a shit about that. It’s what he did to you that kills me.”

  “I’m pretty sure what happened to me wasn’t part of their plan.”

  “It wasn’t part of Black Chuck’s plan, that’s for sure. But Rolo? I don’t know. I always had a bad feeling about him.”

  I paused, thinking.

  “Julia?”

  “I know what I have to do.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I’m going to use what I know to bargain with them. Think about it, Eric. Knowing who stabbed me can buy me protection. It can be my bargaining chip to keep them from coming after me.”

  “You’re talking about blackmailing the Crips,” he said.

  “Exactly. I think it can work.”

  “I like how you think, Julia.”

  “That’s because I think like you.”

  * * *

  The next day Dad brought me a cup of herbal tea and cookies. He was softening me up for something, I just didn’t know what. I could tell by the look on his face that he was going to say something big.

  Poor Dad was still traumatized by what happened to me, and he didn’t know the half of it. He thought the attack on Eric and me was a random mugging turned bloody.

  I couldn’t tell him the truth. No way could I come clean about my involvement with the Crips. No way could I tell him Eric’s role in all of this. He’d never trust me again if he knew what I did. And he’d never accept Eric if he knew his past.

  “What’s up, Dad? You and Gina getting married or something?”

  He looked startled, then laughed. “It isn’t that, trust me.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” I said. “So what is it, then?”

  He sat down in the recliner across from me. “Gina’s niece goes to a really good school up in Washington Heights. We went yesterday to check it out. I think it would be a good place for you.”

  “It’s a Catholic school?”