"Well, there's no accounting for taste," Kit replied, matter-of-factly.
"I see that you don't have your entire gang with you today," he said, flashing an intimidating glance at Kit's friends. "They off playing with their dollies?”
"You're Kit, right?" he asked, as he circled, his eyes narrowed over Kit's insult.
"So you know my name. Big deal!" Kit replied.
Suddenly annoyed at Kit's blasé reaction, Caesar thrust his face close to hers.
"Don't interrupt me when I'm talking bitch," Caesar growled, his teeth clenched. A bubble of spit popped from the corner of his mouth. Kit felt it hit her face near her right eye. She raised her hand and calmly wiped it from her face.
Caesar pulled back just a bit and continued slowly circling the girls, like a predatory animal testing its prey's weaknesses.
"Look," Lizzie started to say, "We just want to get by and..."
Caesar interrupted her, now shoving his face close to Lizzie's. She could feel the heat of his breath and recoiled slightly from the stink of Skoal on his breath.
"I don't believe I was talking to you, Brillo head," he said, emphasizing the insult, with the same threatening growl he had used with Kit.
Caesar turned back toward James and Javier, made a deep snorting in his nose and throat and hawked up a load of phlegm. He turned back toward Lizzie and released the yellowish-green mass, striking her on the face to the right of her nose and just below her eye. Lizzie instinctively recoiled slightly and tightly clinched her eyes closed; she had not given any ground.
Lizzie's eyes narrowed into slits of hate as she wiped the spit from her face with her shirtsleeve. The vein in her forehead bulged slightly, and if one looked closely, you could take her now increased pulse rate visually.
Caesar returned his attention to Kit.
"Funny, you don't look so tough to me," he said. "In fact, I'd say that you're just a few seconds from bursting into tears."
Caesar looked down, noticed the virgin white of Alicia's new sneakers, and spewed a Skoal and spit mixture striking her left shoe with an audible splat.
"So, are you? Are you going to cry?" he said in a mocking tone.
Caesar turned casually toward his friends, turned back suddenly, and slapped Kit hard across the left side of her face. Her face turned sharply from the impact and showed the clear raised welt and red impression of his handprint. She paused for a few seconds, then turned her face back to him. Other than the slight narrowing of her eyes, her facial expression did not change.
"So, you're one of those turn the other cheek types," Caesar said, regarding her with a puzzled look.
He brought the back of his hand across and struck her opposite cheek with even more force than his first blow. Lizzie let out a barely audible gasp at the brutality of Caesar's stroke and Kit's unflinching response.
Kit brought her face back, turning it straight ahead, yet again. A trickle of blood lazily trailed down her cheek from a cut opened below her right eye by Caesar's ring. Again, Kit's expression changed little. Caesar looked at her, and could not conceal his surprise. He glanced back at the two boys.
"Gotta hand it to her," he remarked, amused, but also impressed, "the little bitch can take a punch. She's got bigger cojones than most guys I know."
Caesar now viewed it as a challenge to shatter this girl's spirit and started to turn back, preparing to deliver another slap, and, if necessary, as many more as were required to achieve that end. As he turned, Kit, seeing her opening, swiftly brought up her right foot and caught Caesar hard and square to his testicles. Instantly, he gasped, instinctively cupped both hands over the affected area, slumped to his knees and let out a muffled groan of agony.
Kit gave him no quarter now. She slammed her shoulder into him, her full weight behind it, knocking him on to his side and dealt him the hardest kicks she could deliver. Shocked by the unexpected retaliation, James and Javier gasped in panic, then turned and ran, only stealing quick glances back over their shoulders. They now saw Kit’s entire group surrounding and raining down their vengeance on Caesar's prone form.
Caesar was not conscious long as the girls repeatedly slammed vicious kicks to his head. Lizzie then proceeded to work on his ribs with devastating effect. His body rocked with each new blow, and the force rolled him on to his back. Caesar had already lost the blue bandana that had covered his head. Kit sat astride his chest, grabbed him by his head with both hands, and started repeatedly slamming it into the paved blacktop. Blood began to flow beneath his head, expanding to a dark crimson pool. The restraint that Kit had displayed with Matt and Hector was missing, as her friends struggled to pull her off him.
Kit was now the one with the spectre of hate in her eyes, so strangely reminiscent of the look Lizzie had, when she had released her full fury on Matt and Hector.
Kit stood over Caesar's motionless form for several long seconds, daring it to rise. She tried to make some spit in her mouth to return the insult that Lizzie had received only moments earlier, but her mouth was desert dry from frenzied exertion, and she couldn't muster a drop.
"I'm so mad I can't even spit!" Kit voiced in a guttural tone.
"I don't have that problem," Lizzie interjected, quickly producing a generous amount and depositing it on Caesar's forehead.
"See how you like it, numb nuts." Lizzie said, satisfied with her revenge. "You lucky you still breathin, you jive-ass clown," she added.
As Kit regained her composure, Gwen collected her backpack and handed it to her. Kit slung the shoulder strap over her arm, turned and walked away. The others followed suit, as Caesar lay in a crumpled heap.
About ten minutes after the girls left, Caesar's inert form was discovered as a new group of basketball players arrived on the court. One of them called 911, and an ambulance arrived. Caesar was taken to the hospital, where he spent the next several days in intensive care. He would survive, but the severe head trauma he had sustained, would leave him permanently impaired, so that he would never again be a threat to anyone.
In the days that followed, the incident was not spoken of, with the same irreverence that the Matt and Hector story had evoked. They were humiliated, but not seriously injured. It was clear that Javier and James had talked about it, because the details of the event had circulated widely throughout school and the neighborhood. Kit and her friends did not discuss it again, even among themselves, for several weeks, until the events of that day would return to haunt them.
Though it was never said, they all knew that Caesar had forced Kit's hand. She had acted out of survival instinct, lulling Caesar into thinking that she would not defend herself. She had created the illusion of helplessness, waited for his guard to drop, then delivered her response without hesitation. An army field commander could not have implemented an impromptu strategy with more guile and cunning.
Kit thought a lot about her assault on Caesar. Something he said, struck a chord with her. The remark he made about "turning the other cheek." She had seen too many instances of people doing, what she called the “Ghandi” response. Oh, it sounds great, and it worked pretty well in the long term, in the movie about him; the reality of the street though, was if you give in here, you become an on-going target.
Even Father Patrick, the local parish priest, found that out. Now into his sixties, Patrick Shaughnessy was a former golden glove-boxing champion in his youth. Caesar and his gang mugged him once, for the money in the collection box. He caught them right in the act, and confronted them. There were only three of them, and even at his age, he probably could have made a mess of them, or at least, made a good showing of himself. Instead, when Caesar hit him square in the jaw, his religious ethics stopped him from retaliating. Kit always thought that if he had stood up to them, they might have thought twice before now making the church one of their regular marks. From that day on, Kit was resolved to show her softer side only to her mother, or her closest friends, and even then, only in private.
It was the same way for the nei
ghborhood merchants. At first, they had all refused to pay for protection. The usual method was to, at first, zero in on the weakest, like Mr, Wu, who had a family run, Chinese restaurant. His daughter and her safety was the reason he gave in first. She was beaten and raped on her way home from school after he had refused to pay. Kit was quick to notice, that like a row of falling dominos, once one gave in, the rest would eventually follow.
Kit got home that afternoon, entered the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror. Fortunately, the marks of Caesar's slaps had faded significantly, and she applied a bit of her mother's foundation makeup to complete the concealment. The cut she would explain by saying she had taken an errant pitch while playing softball in P.E. class. Her mother had enough to worry about without revealing the altercation with Caesar. She would protect her mother, keeping that information from her, just as Celeste would protect Kit by keeping her secret from her.
Chapter 13 - Kit's Artwork
Kit answered the door, and a delivery man stood holding some packages.
"I have a package for Kit Collins, can you sign for this?"
Kit signed the delivery man's pad, and he set the packages inside the apartment.
It's true; they were addressed to her. She couldn't recall when she had received a package before, let alone two.
She carried them to the kitchen table and started to unwrap the first. As she removed the brown paper wrapping, an envelope fell on the floor with her name on it. She opened the envelope, pulled a letter out and began to read;
Kit,
If you're going to be a great artist, you're going to need some canvases to paint on. Here are six to get you started. I'm expecting great things from you girl! Let me know if you need anything else.
Love,
Julia
The first package contained three large canvases and the second, three smaller. Kit propped them all around the living room and stared at their pure white surfaces, ripe with possibilities.
Celeste arrived home from work, and looked around the living room at all the canvases and heard Kit moving things noisily in her bedroom.
"Kit, what's all this stuff in the living room," she paused, gave a puzzled look, "and what are you doing in there?"
Kit stood in the doorway of her room, sweating and puffing just a bit, from moving things around.
"Those are canvases for painting," she replied, "Julia sent them over."
"That was nice of her," Celeste said, "So what are you doing in there?"
"Making my studio," Kit replied.
"In that tiny room," Celeste laughed. "You have to go outside to change your mind."
"It will be fine. I moved my bed against the wall, and I put my dresser in the closet. Now I have room enough to set up my easel," Kit said, proudly.
"Okay, if you say so. If you have any room left over, was looking for a place to put a washer and dryer. You know how much I hate walking down to the building's laundry room.”
"Very funny, Mom," Kit replied.
Kit finished setting up the easel Julia had given her and placed one of the large canvases on it. She stood back and surveyed her efforts. It wasn't long on space, but it would have to do; she thought.
She called Alicia, Gwen and Lizzie and asked if they would come over for a while.
"How long do we have to sit here?" Alicia complained. "I'm getting tired.”
"Me too," Gwen said. “how much longer?"
"Just a few more minutes," Kit replied, “please, hold still.”
Kit's friends sat on her bed, side-by-side, more or less, patiently, while she sketched them on the canvas.
"There, that ought to do it," Kit said.
Kit quickly took the sheet and folded it over the canvas concealing what she had been sketching.
"Hey, I want to see it," Alicia said.
"Me too," Lizzie chimed.
"Not until it's finished," Kit said, "you'll jinx it. I promise you'll be the first ones to see it when it's done."
"Oh, alright," Alicia said, disappointed.
Later that evening Celeste had to call Kit to dinner three times. Each time she would answer, "In a minute, Mom".
Finally, Kit sat at the table and started to wolf down her spaghetti and meatballs.
"Hey Kit, where's the fire," Celeste asked.
"Why, what's wrong?" Kit paused long enough to ask.
"I put some effort in to making that food, the least you could do is slow down enough to taste it," Celeste chided her.
"Sorry Mom,"
"So, how's it going?"
"Pretty good actually, I finished one, and I'm working on the next one."
"Already?" Celeste replied, surprised. "You've only been painting a few days."
"Must be the brushes Julia gave me. It just seems to pour out on the canvas."
"May I see the first one you finished?" Celeste asked.
"Sorry Mom, you'll have to wait for the unveiling, just like everybody else."
"Oh, pooh," Celeste said, smiling, "you artists are all so temperamental."
If Kit's days at school had gone by slowly before, they were now positively moving at a snail's pace. Even Mrs. Shay's classes seemed to drag a bit. All Kit could focus on at the closing bell was getting home. Once home, she sequestered herself in her room and barely showed her face, except for the brief appearance she made at the dinner table. Celeste said nothing, but hoped to herself, that this was not a permanent routine.
Celeste walked in her robe to the front door and re-checked to see that the dead bolt was locked, then started off to bed. She paused by Kit's door, noticing that her room light was still on.
Celeste checked the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight.
"Kit, get to bed. Put your brushes away and get some sleep."
"Just a minute Mom, I'm almost done."
"I said now." Celeste said through the door.
"Okay Mom."
Kit's bedroom light went out, and Celeste continued on to her room. She paused, turned around and tiptoed back to Kit's door. Celeste saw the bright glow of a moving flashlight from under the door.
"Now Kit!" Celeste bellowed.
The flashlight went out, and Celeste heard the sound of Kit finally settling into her bed.
Twelve days had passed since Julia had sent Kit the canvases. Julia was starting to get a little worried. They still talked daily on the phone, but Kit was tight-lipped and vague about all aspects of her work. Kit did ask Julia for some more oil colors that she was running low on. Julia happily sent them over by messenger service.
"Why all the secrecy Kit," Julia asked.
"You know how it is, I just don't want anyone to see them, until I'm happy with them," Kit replied.
"Well, I guess if I couldn't understand that, I wouldn't be much of a friend or a fellow artist," Julia said.
Four more days passed until Celeste found Kit sitting at the breakfast table eating her cereal.
"Looks like you've got your appetite back. To what, do we owe the presence of Miss Rembrandt at the table this morning?" Celeste asked.
"I'm finished."
"Finished? Finished with how many?" Celeste asked.
"All of them!" Kit replied.
"But you had six canvases. Are you telling me you finished six paintings in sixteen days?" Celeste asked.
"Yeah, I could have gone faster, but the last one really slowed me down a lot. The one I painted for Julia. I wanted it to be special, so I took my time," Kit replied.
"I've asked some people over Saturday for the unveiling, and I'd kind of like to make it a little special. I thought we could get a bucket of chicken, maybe make some hors d'oeuvres, like cheese and crackers, and some coffee, and get some sodas for my friends. What do you think?" Kit asked.
"Hors d'oeuvres, you say?” Celeste replied, with some amusement. "Yes, I think that we might manage that. How many guests are we expecting?" Celeste asked.
"Five," Kit answered, "Julia, Mrs. Shay, Alicia, Gwen and Lizzie," Kit re
plied.
"Well, I hope we can rustle up enough chairs so that everyone can sit down."
Saturday came and Kit and Celeste nervously awaited the arrival of her guests. First to arrive was Julia. She took a seat on the couch, and Kit politely poured her a cup of coffee.
"Cream and sugar?" Kit asked.
"Just cream, thank you Kit."
Julia looked around the room and noticed several canvases covered with sheets sitting on chairs and propped against walls. She smiled with anticipation.
Next Mrs. Shay arrived and sat seated next to Julia. Celeste brought her coffee as she and Julia chatted.
"What's this all about?" Mrs. Shay asked Julia.
"You don't know?" Julia questioned.
"Oh no, Kit was very hush, hush, just asked if I could come over." Mrs. Shay replied.
"Well Laura, this is something of an unveiling of some of Kit's paintings," Julia said, "and it seems as though we're the guests of honor."
"Splendid! How exciting," Mrs. Shay said.
Last to arrive, Alicia, Gwen and Lizzie sat on the floor. Alicia sat next to Kit's easel and tried to look up under the sheet covering it while she wolfed down some cheese and crackers.
"Ah ah ah," Kit scolded Alicia, "no fair peeking."
"I just want to thank all of you for coming," Kit said, "So, I guess we'll get on with it."
Kit stood before the first canvas and dramatically pulled off the sheet covering it. It was a portrait of Kit, Alicia, Gwen and Lizzie all sitting, side by side, on her apartment front stoop. They were laughing with their arms around each other's shoulders, obviously enjoying themselves. It was a beautiful portrait and elicited excited praise and some applause, all around the room.
"It's amazing Kit," Mrs. Shay said, "I knew you were talented, but this is even better than I could have imagined.
Julia stood up and walked across the room to examine Kit's painting closer.
"It has a real Norman Rockwell quality to it," Julia said, "I can just feel the affection you have for your friends; it really comes through, and it's so realistic and natural. The level of detail is phenomenal."
The Ghost Locket Page 8