One of Marcus’s friends says something. His voice isn’t musical like Asia’s. His voice is sharp, like razor blades. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but his fists come out, baff, baff, baff, like he’s pounding something or maybe someone.
Then—I don’t know how she does it; I’m hanging back pretty far—Asia spots me. I see her looking right at me. She lets go of Marcus’s hand and stands up.
Marcus stands up too. He says something to Asia. Asia points at me. Then she opens the little gate to the courtyard and she comes toward me. Marcus follows her to the courtyard gate and then he stops, which surprises me. His face is wary as he watches Asia walk over to me. She’s smiling, which surprises me too. She says, “Did you come to talk to Marcus like you promised?”
I look over her shoulder at Marcus, standing there by the gate to the courtyard. He’s smirking at me. Well, why not? He has Asia. I don’t.
“You never told me where he lives,” I say.
“But you know where to find me.”
I’m about to tell Asia that I didn’t come here thinking I might find Marcus. But she takes my hand and, just like that, I lose the power of speech. She pulls me toward the courtyard where Marcus is still standing. The other guys are sitting on lawn chairs. They look at each other and then they look at me.
Asia is still holding my hand when she says, “Marcus, you remember Remy?”
Marcus doesn’t say anything. He reaches for Asia’s other hand, the one that isn’t real. Asia looks up at him, and I know what she’s thinking. The first time I touched that hand, she almost cried. She said, “Most people try to pretend it isn’t there. They try not to look at it.” But here’s Marcus, holding it like it’s real and gently pulling her away from me. He slips an arm around her waist so that he can hold her close. He likes to hold her like that, probably so he can feel the heat of her body. I used to like to hold her like that too.
Asia smiles at him. Then her face grows serious. She says, “Remy wants to tell you something, Marcus.”
Marcus gives me a look, like he can’t imagine what he and I could possibly have to talk about.
Asia looks at me. “Go on,” she says.
I stand there, not saying a word. What does she want me to tell him? Knives are no good? People who carry knives don’t believe that. That’s why they carry them in the first place, because they believe that knives are good.
Asia’s eyes are still on me, like she’s willing me to start talking. I don’t even know how to begin. Then she turns to Marcus.
“Knives are stupid,” she says. “Fighting is stupid. Remy knows that. Remy got into a fight. The other guy was badly hurt. They sent Remy away, isn’t that right, Remy?”
The way Marcus is looking at me, I know he already knows this. Asia has told him, maybe more than once.
“Tell him what it was like there, Remy,” she says.
Oh.
So that’s the part she wants me to tell. It’s the part she doesn’t know. Well, one of the parts she doesn’t know.
I think about it for a moment, and then I say, “It’s better to be here than to be there, that’s for sure.”
“You hang out with those guys at the courts,” Marcus says. The two guys behind him, who are sitting on lawn chairs, sit up a little straighter.
“What guys?” Asia says.
“Guys who think they own the place,” Marcus says. “Guys just like him.” He nods at me.
“I don’t hang out with them,” I say.
“Right,” Marcus says. “Every time I go down there and they’re there, you’re there with them. But you don’t hang out with them.”
The two guys on the lawn chairs get up now and come to stand on either side of Marcus, but a little behind him. It makes him look like the leader.
“You tell your friends it’s not their court,” Marcus says. “You tell them anyone can play there. You tell them we can play there. You tell them if they try to stop us, we’ll—” He stops and I think, Boy, where he’s heading, I’ve been there.
Asia turns to him. She says, “You’ll what?” She sounds mad.
Marcus keeps his eyes directly on me. He reaches into his pocket. Asia watches him. He pulls something out. It glints in the setting sun. I think, It’s his knife. Then I hear a chirping sound and I see it isn’t a knife at all. It’s a cell phone, and he’s flipping it open and turning it on, which is why I hear the chirping sound.
“Or I’ll call my brother,” he says, “and get him to sue your sorry ass.”
The two guys behind him laugh. Asia looks at me, her eyes big, like she’s begging me not to get mad. Like she’s afraid I will. Like all of a sudden she’s sorry she asked me to talk to Marcus. Like she’s afraid I’ll beat him up the way I beat up the other guy. I never told her why I did it. I wish now that I had, but it’s too late. She’s still watching me as she draws close to Marcus and slips her arm around his waist. It’s a message to me. She’s telling me how much it will hurt her if I hurt Marcus. Right then and there I realize how much I hate Marcus, who has the same chocolate eyes as Asia.
I turn and walk away. I hear Marcus and his friends laughing. I tell myself I don’t care. But you know what? It isn’t true.
Chapter Ten
I never told Asia why I did it because all I could think was how much it would hurt her if she knew. And the last thing I wanted was to hurt her. Also, I was embarrassed to tell her. I was embarrassed to repeat what that guy said to me.
Here’s the way I remember it: Asia and I are in the park. It’s the one down near the railroad tracks where there’s a swimming pool with a slide and a diving board and a big wading pool for the little kids. In winter there’s a rink for hockey and another one for just fooling around. There’s also a playground for little kids and a lot of big trees that you could sit under on a hot day and still feel cool.
It’s near the end of summer, and Asia and I are down there together under one of those big trees. We’re hidden away where we’re sure no one can see us, and our hands are all over each other and we’re kissing each other. Asia tastes sweet.
“Boy,” I say, “I wish we didn’t have to go back to school next week.”
Asia goes quiet. She pulls away from me. She says, “Remy, I have to tell you something.”
When people say that, they almost never follow it up with good news.
I wait.
“It’s about school,” she says.
Asia and I are in the same grade, only she does way better than me at school. She’s really smart.
“My parents transferred me to another school,” she says.
“What?”
She can tell I’m stunned.
“When did this happen?” I say.
“They were talking about it all last year,” she says. “They were bugging me about it. They want me to go to this girls’ school. It’s supposed to be a really good school. Everyone who goes there ends up in university, a lot of them with a full scholarship.”
I’m sitting up straight now.
“I got a scholarship to the school,” she says. “It’s expensive, but they said at the school that they think I have real potential.”
I can see she’s proud of herself and that she wants me to be proud too. But all I can think is, If she’s going to this school starting next week, then she’s known about it for a while. And if it’s an expensive school that’s given her a scholarship, then she must have applied a while ago and even talked to them a couple of times—otherwise, how could they be so impressed with her? I think she’s known about this for a long time, and she’s only telling me now.
When I don’t tell her how proud I am, she stands up and says she has to go home.
I get up and say I’ll walk her.
She says no, and it hits me that she’s been saying no for a while. She’s happy enough to come out and be with me, but she never lets me go to her house. Usually I don’t make a big deal about it. I mean, who wants to be face-to-face with a girl’s parents,
right? But tonight I tell her I want to walk her home. Especially if she’s going to a different school and I won’t see her as much.
She says no. She’s mad at me. She tells me part of the reason she has to go to this school is because her parents don’t approve of me.
I think she’s kidding. “What’s not to approve of?” I say.
“Because you get into trouble all the time,” she says. “Because of those guys you hang around with. My dad says it’s bad enough you’re—” She stops then, but I know what she means because she gives me a look that reminds me of the look my mother gave me the first time she saw me with Asia.
That time my mother said, “Who was that girl?” When I told her, she said, “Why can’t you go out with a normal girl?”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Asia’s normal.”
“You know what I mean,” my mother said.
“No, I don’t,” I told her, even though I knew exactly what she meant. She and my father think the same way about some things. I told her, “People don’t think like that anymore.”
My mother looked at me like I was crazy. “Maybe some people say they don’t think like that, Remy. But don’t kid yourself. Most people do. They say they’re not prejudiced, but then you see who their friends are and who they marry. People just naturally like to keep to their own kind. They feel more comfortable that way. Besides,” she said, “that girl is handicapped.”
I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about. I told her Asia lost a hand, that’s all. I told her that never stopped Asia from doing anything. I told her, “Asia doesn’t think the way you do.” I even said, “Asia’s parents don’t think the way you do,” even though I only met them once. But now, in the park with Asia, it looks like I’m wrong. That’s exactly how they think. They’re sending Asia to a different school—a girls’ school—so there’s no way she can get involved with anyone like me. And Asia must agree with them, because she’s going and she’s waited until the last minute to tell me.
“What’s their problem?” I say. “We have a good time together, that’s all. It’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re going to get married or anything.” At the time, I had just turned sixteen. Asia was still fifteen. But I see right away it was the wrong thing to say.
Asia looks at me and says, “You know what? I’m glad I’m going to a new school.” She sounds mad and I know it’s because of what I said. She turns and walks out of the park. And I’m mad at her, so I don’t try to stop her. It’s only after she’s gone that I see this guy I know, a guy named Shane. He’s standing behind me, shaking his head.
He says, “Who does she think she is, huh?”
I’m already mad—at Asia’s parents, who want to get Asia away from me; at Asia for going along with them; at my mother for sticking her nose into my business; and now at Shane, who goes to my school but who I don’t really know. Who asked him for his opinion about my life?
“What’s it to you?” I say. And it’s true, I’m already looking for a way to let off some steam. My hands are already curled into fists.
Shane shrugs. “I’m just saying, that’s all.”
“Just saying what?”
“Those people,” he says. “They’re not even born here. They come here and they all stick together. They don’t mix with regular people, people like us. They act like they’re better than everyone else.”
I just stare at him. Part of me wants to tell him he’s wrong, Asia’s not like that. Besides, it’s none of his business. But there’s another part of me that thinks Asia’s parents sure sound like what he’s describing. Who are they, anyway, to decide they don’t like me when they don’t even know me?
“Besides,” he says, “look at her. She has a fake hand. You’d think she’d be grateful that anyone is interested in her. Hey, did you ever see her without that hand? What does it look like? I bet it’s gross, huh?”
I know there are other people in the park. I see them, but I don’t really see them. Mostly I’m focused on Shane. He’s about the same size as me, maybe a little taller. I guess I take him by surprise, because when I hit him the first time, he looks stunned. Or maybe that’s because when I hit him the first time, my fist plows into his nose. I see blood. So does Shane. He puts a hand to his face and it comes away dripping red. While he’s looking at his bloody hand, I hit him again. And again. And again. Until finally he’s on the ground and I’m still pounding on him. I don’t stop until he’s not moving anymore. And then I’m so tired it takes me a few moments before I realize that the smart thing to do is run.
I go home—fast. I change. I dump the bloody clothes in the garbage out back. It doesn’t help. The cops come to the house. They have a positive id—from someone else, not from Shane. It turns out that Shane is unconscious in the hospital. He ends up staying there for a long time. I get arrested. I go to court. And then I go away. When Asia asks me why I did it, I say the guy was hassling me. I can see she’s disappointed by the explanation. I don’t tell her what Shane said. I don’t tell her how mad I am at myself because now I’ve gone and made sure that Asia’s parents will never like me, will never approve of me.
And after all that, who is she with? She’s with Marcus, who has the same color eyes as her and who touches her other hand.
Chapter Eleven
I go directly from the building where Asia lives to the courts, where I find James and Stephen and John and the rest of them. I tell them what Marcus said, minus the part about calling his brother, the lawyer. James listens. He says, “We’ll see about that.”
Lindsay is at the courts too, along with some other girls. Even though I shoved her away the last time I saw her, she acts like she wants to be with me again. And after what happened at Asia’s place, I figure, what the hell. The only thing is, I wish Asia were here to see me with Lindsay. I wish it really bad.
After we leave the courts, we go to James’s house. His parents aren’t around. I have no idea where they are. We go downstairs to the basement, which is where James lives, and we roll some joints and smoke them and eat chips and order pizza and watch a movie. Don’t ask me the name of it. I don’t remember. Eventually people start to leave, but I stay. I don’t want to go home. I crash on James’s floor.
When I wake up the next day, James is sitting cross-legged on his bed, eating cereal and watching TV.
“Hey,” he says when I lift my head off the floor. “You hungry?”
I’m not, but I ask about coffee and James goes and gets me some. I drink it and my head starts to clear. James says, “So, what do you want to do today?”
What do I want to do? I want to get Asia back from Marcus. I want to turn back time. I want to correct all my mistakes. I want everything to be different. I want to erase Marcus. More than anything, I want to erase Marcus.
After a while, Stephen comes over. Then John. They say, “Let’s go shoot some hoops,” and off we go to the courts. We’re just rounding the corner when I see James’s face change, and no wonder. The court is occupied, and not with little kids, who we could easily shoo away. No, it’s Marcus and his friends. There are more of them than I remember. They’re all over the court and around it. One of them spots us. Then another and another until no one is playing ball anymore. They’re all just standing there looking at us. Marcus’s eyes flick from me to James and back to me again.
James starts toward the court. John pulls him back.
“You see how many there are?” he says.
I do. There are way more of them than there are of us.
James shakes John off and steps forward again. He’s looking directly at Marcus. He says, “You’re on our court.”
Marcus looks at the guys on either side of him. He smiles. He’s still smiling and he shakes his head when he looks at James again. He says, “How can it be your court when you’re out there and we’re in here?”
I see James twitch.
“We can get more,” he says quietly to Stephen and John and me. Then he says, loud this time
, “You think you can play here? You’re wrong.”
Marcus laughs. He isn’t scared at all. He thinks James is funny. He probably thinks we’re all funny, and why not? He has the court and the manpower to keep it. Which is probably why he says, “You want it? Come and get it.”
James has been waiting for this because he has an answer ready. “Tonight,” he says. “You want to settle this once and for all, you be here tonight.”
Marcus laughs again. Then his face grows serious and he throws the basketball he’s holding. The only reason it doesn’t hit James in the face is the chain-link fence that separates us.
James laughs. “Tonight,” he says again. He turns around, but slowly, to show Marcus he isn’t afraid. He walks back to where we’re standing, and we all look at Marcus and his friends. Then, like soldiers in formation,
We walk away, still taking our time, still wanting Marcus to get the message—we aren’t afraid of him. We walk back to James’s house and hang out on the porch. James starts to make plans. He wants as many guys there tonight as he can get. He wants to show Marcus that he can’t take over a court that doesn’t belong to him.
Part of me wants to say it’s a public court. It belongs to whoever gets there first and it’s theirs for as long as they stay. After that it belongs to someone else. But I don’t say it because I don’t feel like defending Marcus, not when he has Asia. I also don’t want James and the rest of them to think that I care more about Marcus than I do about them. I sit on the porch railing, leaning against one of the pillars, and I listen to James talk about who he wants to get out there tonight. He wants guys not to come empty-handed. “You got a baseball bat, bring a baseball bat,” he says. “Bring anything you have that you think you can use.”
And that’s the first time I say it. I say, “Marcus has a knife.”
James looks up at me sitting on the porch railing.
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