Secret Saturdays

by Torrey Maldonado

  I didn’t know if I could sit on the phone and listen to her blame me when it was her fault Sean flipped. I wanted to tell her off.

  “Me stop him?” I thought about saying. “Here are some things I did to stop him. First, I tried stopping him when he wilded out in gym. Second, in Advisory, I pulled him off Manny when they fought. No other kid did. Third, I went to the principal and tried to get Sean out of suspension. Fourth, I even brought Sean his homework so he wouldn’t fall behind. So don’t blame me. It’s your fault Sean’s in trouble. You taking him to Clinton Co . . . whatever. That place is messing him up.” But I didn’t have the guts to say those things to her because she’s grown. Instead, I agreed with her and we hung up.

  But then I thought maybe I should have done more to help Sean. I just didn’t know what else I could’ve done.

  Two hours later, Kyle and Vanessa showed up at my house. Ma was napping in her room. Vanessa didn’t even sit. She pulled Sean’s rhymebook right out and handed it to me.

  I felt like I had Sean’s life in the palm of my hand. It felt good, but it didn’t feel right. We were about to go through Sean’s private thoughts. I had this feeling maybe we shouldn’t do it but decided to go ahead with reading Sean’s raps anyway. I needed to know what was going on.

  “Did you look in it yet?” I asked Vanessa.

  “No. I felt weird. Maybe we shouldn’t even read it now.”

  “Whatever.” I opened the book. Vanessa and Kyle slung their coats on my bed and sat on either side of me. For a split second, I had the same feeling in my stomach as when Sean dared me to go into the Grey House.

  “I wonder if there’s a rap in here about us,” I said. I started flipping through pages fast. Sean didn’t have dates on his rhymes, which made it hard to find the ones about his Saturday trips. I put dates on all my raps. Just to make sure my rhymes stayed fresh and I didn’t rap the same way I had the month before.

  I came to a page with lyrics about Sean’s mom. I scanned the verses and caught a line saying, “She takes good care of me,” and kept reading. But it was only some rap he wrote about his mom treating him nice.

  I kept turning pages. I spotted a title. “Two-Faced.” My eyes zipped up and down the page. Bam. I read Sean’s words out loud.

  I haven’t spoken to no one about these trips.

  And it makes me sick,

  Seeing my dad ill like this,

  Then coming back to my friends

  And keeping Dad’s secret from them.

  I haven’t done a sleepover in a minute.

  Ma made me skip the one around Thanksgiving.

  I bet she’ll make me miss the one around Christmas too.

  And all my lies to Justin are weak but I don’t know what to do.

  Justin spots stuff quick and I have to lie mad fast.

  Like the time he went in my drawer and found that cash.

  I told him it’s Puerto Rico dough my pops be sending.

  But it’s really money that I don’t be spending.

  I add that to Ma’s money so she can buy my dad some things.

  I don’t do it for my dad. I do it for Ma. It feels good helping.

  I’m supposed to tell my dogs about stuff going on. But how can I tell them now?

  They’ll be like, “Why you kept so quiet so long?”

  I clown kids about their wack daddies.

  So what would heads think

  If they realized the one with the ill dad was me?

  I think I can trust Justin.

  I mean . . .

  He won’t make fun.

  Then again I rather die before I tell anyone.

  What about Vanessa? I think she’d be cool.

  Then again, she’s a girl and girls do the most gossiping in school.

  I could tell Kyle but then again I don’t know.

  Maybe it’s best if none of them know.

  Dealing with this drama is a daily headache.

  I told my moms my feelings and she said, “Telling anyone is a big mistake.”

  The rhyme ended. Wow! I knew Sean was hiding a secret and it had to do with his father.

  “Find another rap!” Vanessa nudged my side.

  I flipped the page and scanned. Nothing. I flipped again. A title said “Justin.”

  “This one’s about you,” Kyle said, and bumped his elbow against mine. All thirsty, he started reading the rhyme to us before I had a chance to check the verses for disses on me.

  Justin wants to play detective

  Like he’s a cop.

  Every time he sees me he asks me nonstop,

  “Sean, where you went this weekend?”

  What’s up with his questions?

  Like he’s my girlfriend

  Why he on my butt?

  Why he cares?

  I don’t ask him, “Why’s your dad not here?”

  Or, “How come you on welfare?”

  Justin should just stop.

  It all started after the first time I visited my pops.

  I wanted to take Sean’s rhymebook and rip it in half. He said I was on him like I was his girlfriend. Dang, son. How come he had to write that in his book? What if Sean had another, even more hard-core verse on me?

  “Give me that,” Vanessa said, grabbing Sean’s book from Kyle. She searched for another important rhyme. She found it. Sean called it “Let the Hands Do the Talking.”

  I’ve been ready to hit Manny

  Way before today.

  I’ve been feeling this way about fools

  Almost every day since pre-K.

  Because every day, since then, some kid tries to

  play me.

  Big respect to the advice Ma gave me.

  She meant good by saying I should slay bullies with

  words

  And for a long time, I have, and I’ve made these

  clowns look absurd.

  But with a dis, people try to dis back,

  But a hater can’t say jack

  If you knock him out and lay him flat on his back.

  That’s why I mushed that kid in gym

  When he got loud with me.

  And it’s why I clocked Manny.

  To tell the truth, when I saw Manny’s bloody nose, I

  felt bad,

  But scrap that.

  He mentioned my dad.

  Manny could talk about anybody in my family but

  not my pops.

  God, when I think about my father,

  It makes me so mad I want to pop.

  And I’ve dropped

  In my grades

  And in my attendance.

  Every day I’m late.

  Why? Ma doesn’t care so neither do I.

  She only cares about taking me on these trips.

  So forget about me handing in work that’s crisp.

  Ma doesn’t care about me so I don’t care about my

  academics.

  “Yo!” Kyle said. “He just wrote this rhyme. That fight with Manny just happened.”

  Vanessa shoved me. “See? I told you I was stupid to take this book.”

  I shook my head at Vanessa. “It just means you need to return this book real quick. That’s it. He won’t know it was gone. Watch.”

  Her face was mad tense. I didn’t think she believed me.

  I flipped backward to a few pages before and found a rhyme called “Ma.”

  We read it quietly.

  Ma tried testing me.

  I didn’t straighten my room so she started stressing me.

  She said, “Keep it messy and we won’t see your dad.”

  Please! If I didn’t see him, I’d be glad.

  These trips are for her. During our visits, they both ignore me.

  I told Ma, “Let’s stop seeing him. See if I care.” She’s all talk, no action.

  I didn’t clean my room and she still brought me back there.

  I tell Justin, Vanessa, and Kyle that me and my dad are close, but it’s not true.

 
I keep lying because I don’t want them to see I don’t have a perfect family.

  But dang. My parents ain’t even married.

  On one trip, I told Ma, “We never visited him before. Why now? Why bother?”

  She said, “I feel more strongly now that boys also need their fathers.”

  Plus, she said that before, I was younger, but now I’m ready since I’m older.

  “Wow!” Kyle said real long. “This explains a lot.”

  We went through the rest of Sean’s book, but there was nothing else about his father or the trips.

  Vanessa jumped in. “Whatever’s happening with his dad did make Sean flip. Sounds like he doesn’t even want to follow his mom’s advice no more. Now what?”

  I looked at Vanessa holding Sean’s rhymebook. “You need to sneak that back into the pile where you got it from as soon as possible.”

  “How?” Kyle asked. “She can’t say she bringing him homework again. She used that excuse already.”

  Then, Vanessa bit her lip and thought.

  “You bringing it back?” I asked.

  Then Vanessa’s face lit up and she smiled like she’d found money. “Yep. Right now.”

  “How?” Kyle asked.

  “Don’t worry.” She got up, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door. “I got this.”

  Vanessa had bounced an hour ago. Not hearing from her made me a little nervous.

  “Vanessa’ll probably call in a minute,” Kyle said. He was at my CD player looking for music to put on.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I took my cell out of my pocket and checked for missed calls. Maybe Vanessa had tried me but my cell hadn’t rung. Nope.

  Kyle picked an Old School joint to play. It was those two rappers who used to wear big, thick rope gold chains. The beat was hot.

  “Turn the volume up,” I said.

  “You think Vanessa could do it?” Kyle asked, twisting the dial and making the music louder.

  “I don’t know. She tricked Sean once. I hope she can do it twice.”

  Suddenly, my cell sang my favorite hip-hop song. Kyle quickly lowered the music. The caller ID glowed bright red, “VANESSA.” I scooped it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Done,” Vanessa said.

  “Word?”

  “Never doubt me. I went to Sean’s and asked him if I’d left my cell in his house. I turned my cell off in case Sean said, ‘Let’s call your cell and wherever it rings, there it is.’ I’m glad I did, because that was the first thing he said. When he didn’t hear anything, I said, ‘I think I left it in your room.’

  “His mom wasn’t there. She had gone to the store. So me and him looked almost everywhere in his room. Finally, he said what I was wishing he would say. ‘Vanessa, let me check the living room. You was in there talking with my mom before you came into my room, right?’ So Sean went into the living room. That’s when I snuck his rhymebook back mad fast into that pile. Guess what.”

  “What?”

  “He didn’t miss it because those textbooks were in the same place. Same positions. When Sean came back into his room, I stood there holding my cell and said, ‘Found it. It was under your beanbag.’ And he believed me because it was the one spot we didn’t check.”

  “Nice. Where you at now?” I asked.

  “My place. I’ll catch you tomorrow. I’m going to the movies with my mom.”

  “All right. Tomorrow.”

  “You know,” Vanessa said, “it would’ve been a wrap if he’d caught me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You and Kyle owe me.”

  “For real.”

  I closed my cell. “She did it.”

  Vanessa gave us what Sean was thinking but not saying. Still, there were some things we needed to know. Like in Sean’s raps, what was “the place” Sean’s dad was in? And why was his dad ill? Was he ill, sick? Ill, in a messed-up situation?

  Kyle got hyped probably for the same reason I was happy. We didn’t need to deal with Sean knowing we took his book.

  Kyle turned up my radio and rapped to that Old School song.

  “Make it louder.” I jumped in and beatboxed.

  On Christmas morning I woke up, hyped, and ran in the living room to open my gifts. Ma always got up before me, put on Christmas music, and made breakfast. She sat on the sofa, waiting for me. The smell of her pancakes, eggs, and sausages had our whole apartment smelling good. Ma worked hard for days hooking up our Christmas tree. It was covered in rainbow-colored lights that blinked on and off. Shiny bells hung from every branch. Different-sized gifts were wrapped real neat with bows on them and stacked on the floor underneath. I didn’t know what to open first.

  “Ma, which gift should I start with?”

  “You choose.” Ma smiled back at me. But she was rubbing and massaging her leg, so I knew she was hurt even though she was trying to look happy. It pissed me off that she had to be in pain on Christmas.

  I picked up a square package and read Ma’s handwriting. “To my Little Man, Stick with it and you might become famous for your words. Love, Ma.”

  I tore off the wrapping. It was a brand-new rhyme book. One hundred times nicer than the one I had. Soft brown leather with gold corners. Good, crisp, thick paper inside. It looked like it should belong to a rich person.

  “Ma, this is cool.” I wondered how much it cost.

  “I thought you’d like it.” She winked.

  I kept opening gift after gift until nothing was left. I got most of what I wanted, but not some other expensive stuff I fiended for. Like an iPhone or a new video game system. I didn’t beef. Ma looked at me like she hoped I was happy. I bum-rushed her with mad kisses and she started laughing and crying a little.

  After Ma stopped crying, we ate breakfast and she told me the same old funny stories of Christmases from when she was growing up. Then I took my empty gift boxes and ripped wrapping papers to the garbage chute to help keep the apartment clean for Ma.

  Christmas calmed my projects down. Less drama on the streets and even rude, troublemaking kids smiled and said hi to old folks. In our buildings, halls had less heads hanging out. Holiday songs played from behind doors. People were more peaceful but not cleaner.

  Near the trash chute there was a humongous pile of crumpled gift-wrapping papers and mad empty toy boxes. The chute door was wide open with a full bag of garbage sticking out. Some nasty neighbor didn’t shove their Christmas morning trash all the way down the chute. Seeing that made me feel like tossing my junk on the messy floor like them, but Ma taught me better. I pushed whoever’s garbage down. Something wet leaked on my hands. I smelled it. Sour milk mixed with something that looked and smelled like baby poop. Dang, I hated inconsiderate people. I cursed in my head and rammed my garbage into the incinerator. Pissed.

  Later in the day, me, Vanessa, and Kyle were supposed to meet at Kyle’s to see what presents we got.

  At twelve o’clock, I knocked on Kyle’s door. While I waited for him to answer, this kid Omar who lived next door came out of his apartment with a man who had his arm wrapped around Omar’s shoulders. The dude had Omar’s same-shaped face and everything, so I guessed it was his pops. Every now and then, usually holidays, birthdays, or for graduations, fathers of kids in Red Hook would suddenly pop up. These dads be gone all year and then they come out of nowhere. I figured that was why Omar had a stank face on. Who wants a father once a year? Kyle opened his door right as Omar and his dad passed by me.

  “You got good stuff?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, lifting my shopping bag. “It’s in here. Vanessa show up?”

  “Ten minutes ago.” In Kyle’s room, Vanessa was at his TV, messing with his DVD player.

  She stood to say what up to me and a new gold chain with her name on it swung on her neck.

  “Ouch,” I said, covering my eyes. “Watch your bling. It’s blinding me.”

  “Stop being stupid.” Vanessa laughed. She showed me her other gifts. A nice coat and a DVD box se
t of AND 1 basketball games. That was what she was messing with when I came in. “What you guys get?”

  “This new skateboard,” Kyle said, grabbing it off the floor. “I already showed Vanessa that. But she hasn’t seen this.” Kyle went to his closet, opened it slowly, and said, “Wait for it, wait for it. . . . Bam! This Rock Band game!”

  “Son, we need to play that,” I said, pulling my gifts out my bag, fast. “I got this new hip-hop CD, this rhyme book, two new Tech Decks with a half-pipe ramp.” I pointed to my kicks. “And these sneakers.”

  “Oh snap!” Vanessa said, grabbing my CD. “Burn me a copy.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “Let me see that Tech Deck,” Kyle said, taking one. “I’ll teach you this new flip and some grinds I just learned. Oh, Vanessa, you want to still play that DVD?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Both of you, sit down and watch this. Yo, see how this one girl from Harlem dribbles! I’m going to learn how to play like her. Then the coaches of the girls’ basketball team will sweat me at the next tryouts.”

  We ended up watching Vanessa’s b-ball DVD for thirty minutes. Just when I got tired of watching this dunking contest, Vanessa said, “You guys think we should call Sean?”

  I was glad she suggested it.

  “Yeah,” Kyle said. “It feels weird without him.”

  I guessed they stayed thinking about him too.

  We crowded around Kyle’s bedroom phone.

  “Okay,” Kyle said. “Say Merry Christmas, then our names, on the count of three. One, two—”

  “Wait,” Vanessa said. “Kyle, you say your name first, I go second, then Justin.”

  “Fine,” me and Kyle said.

  Sean’s voice mail picked up after one ring. Kyle counted us off and we yelled, “Merry Christmas!” into the phone. “It’s us, Sean. Kyle, Vanessa, and Justin.”

  That felt good.

  Then the three of us started playing Rock Band. We played until it was time for me and Vanessa to go home.

  New Year’s Eve, around seven o’clock at night, Ma sent me to the store. New Year’s in Red Hook was the opposite of Christmas. Heads wilded, and outside, firecrackers exploded everywhere. The halls were extra crowded on every floor with people smoking weed, drinking, rolling dice, and messing up everything. Half the guys I saw, I didn’t know. Some of them were there to start trouble because that was as much fun to them as getting high or drunk.