Playground

by 50 Cent

  Nia frowned a little, then said, “She’s also a little wild, though, and my mom don’t like that one bit. I’m not saying she been in trouble with the law or gotten pregnant or nothing like that. But my mom still don’t trust her. Thinks Cora’s a troublemaker, and says the baby of the family always turns out like that if you don’t watch it. Like my youngest brother James—he’s the one I’m gonna watch right now—he can barely walk and already he’s raising hell wherever he can find it.”

  “I’d love to meet him sometime,” I said, then immediately felt like an idiot. Man, Nia’d be taking out a restraining order against me if I didn’t check myself.

  But she only flashed another smile. “Yeah, he’s a real cutie, little James. I think he’d like you a lot.”

  “I love babies,” I said, though I have no idea why, since I’d spent barely any time with them since my Philly cousins were little. But my mom worked in the neonatal intensive care ward sometimes, and back when she and I used to talk, she was always going on about all the poor little things in there.

  “Anyway,” Nia said, “Cora’s just trying to be nice by throwing a party for her favorite niece, but my mom’s all suspicious and shit. She don’t like Cora’s new boyfriend who she just moved in with, but that’s just because he’s got lots of money and a crib my mom could only dream of.”

  “That sounds pretty wacked,” I said. For the first time, I started to wonder why exactly Nia was telling me all this.

  “So I just don’t want anything to get out of hand, right?” Nia said, and suddenly it was all clear to me. Nia was telling me not to show up at her aunt’s party. I’d gotten permission from my mom and everything, and now the nicest girl in school was pretty much locking the door in my face.

  I can’t tell you how shitty I felt right then, knowing that was the only reason Nia had walked all those blocks with me. No wonder she’d been quiet earlier. It was because she’d been building up the courage to let me off easy. Man. I stood there, dead still at the intersection of Franklin and Stewart, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. And angry as shit, too.

  “Butterball?” Nia said, breaking the spell. “You okay? The light’s changed, c’mon.”

  “Don’t you worry about me,” I snapped as I followed her out into the street, but Nia didn’t seem to notice the bottled-up rage in my voice. I didn’t know why I was still walking with her—probably only because I wasn’t all that eager to head back home to find Evelyn rifling through my personal possessions under the pretense of “tidying.” Tidying my ass. The only thing harder than keeping my cool with the backstabbing Nia was having a civil conversation with Evelyn.

  “So yeah,” Nia was still talking obliviously on, “I had a little favor to ask you. It sounds kinda weird, but, well, I’d just be real grateful if I mean, if you’re coming—and you are coming, I hope?—could you, like, help me keep an eye on shit? Make sure nothing gets too out of hand, know what I mean?”

  I came to a complete stop again, before we’d finished crossing the street. I was trying to process what exactly Nia was asking of me. She hoped I was coming to the party tomorrow night? Had she really just said that? And then, just as she started to look at me funny, I came to my senses and kept walking toward the curb.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. “I’m still just getting used to these shoes,” and as I spoke, I realized that for the first time all week my feet weren’t hurting me one bit. “As for the favor, yeah, sure, I’d be happy to help you out tomorrow night. No problem at all.”

  “Oh, good,” Nia said, smiling over at me. “I knew I could count on you, Butterball. Because if any bad shit goes down, my mom’ll have both me and Aunt Cora on lockdown, I’m serious. I’m so glad you’ll be there. I always knew I could count on you.”

  We walked on for a few more minutes, and I gotta say, I was feeling like the king of the world himself under that warm spring sun. And then suddenly Nia came to a stop and said, “Well, here we are.”

  I looked around at the big mall parking lot in front of us, totally confused. “Here we are what?”

  “OfficeMax,” Nia said, gesturing at the gigantic store like two feet away from us. “Didn’t you say you had to get stuff for your science project?”

  I saved myself just in time, right as a suspicious little frown crossed Nia’s face. “Oh, damn. Guess I was just trying to block that Mrs. Stimpson bitch outta my brain, know what I’m saying?”

  I laughed real loud, but Nia was still giving me a kinda funny look. “All right then, check you later,” I said, and—because I was kinda embarrassed—I walked right through the double doors of OfficeMax without even turning around to wave goodbye.

  I didn’t have a penny in my pocket, but then I also didn’t have no science project. Besides, if there’s one thing my dad had taught me, it was that you didn’t need money to get what you wanted out of life.

  And what I wanted was ... well, I wasn’t too sure exactly. But Nia’s party was just over twenty-four hours away, and I couldn’t remember when I’d ever looked forward to anything this much. The weekend ahead was going to kick some serious ass.

  19

  I drew the hoodie tight over my ears as I stepped into Liz’s office that Monday afternoon. I really didn’t feel like hashing it out with the old lady right then, not after all I’d gone through these past couple of days. But the alternative—going home to my mom—was even less appealing.

  “Have a seat,” Liz said, her voice all concerned and sweet in a way that put me on guard. For a second I wondered if my mom had called her, but nah, that really wasn’t Mom’s style. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Nah, I’m fine,” I said, wishing she’d just leave me alone. Wishing everyone would just leave me alone.

  “I picked up some bottles of your favorite beverage over the weekend,” Liz said, sounding a little bashful. “Just in case you got thirsty. I guess I missed you a little on Friday.”

  Without raising my eyes, I watched her walk over to the fake wood-paneled mini-fridge she kept over in the corner of the room. She popped open the door and took out a one-liter bottle of PQ. “I knew raspberry was your favorite,” she said, coming over to me with the bottle.

  “I already got one in my bag,” I mumbled, but when she handed me the bottle I didn’t refuse it. It felt nice and sweaty in my hands, a whole lot cooler than the drinks that came straight out of the 7-Eleven fridge. I was pretty thirsty—I’d had a crazy headache all day—but for a while I just held the bottle between my hands like I hardly knew it was there. Still, I had to admit Liz’s little gesture had touched me. I couldn’t remember the last time one of my parents had done something spontaneously nice like that.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Liz said as soon as she’d settled into her chair. For a second I regretted taking that drink from her. Nothing in life for free, or whatever my dad was always saying.

  “I don’t feel like it,” I said, the understatement of the year right there.

  “I see your eye is swollen,” Liz went on. “You look like you’ve been hit pretty hard.”

  “Well, no shit,” I said. “It’s a good thing you’ve already got a day job because I don’t think you’d make a very good cop or private detective or whatever.”

  Liz still seemed totally unfazed by my attitude. “You also have a lump on your forehead,” she observed calmly.

  “Damn, so that’s why I’ve got such a killer headache,” I said, slapping my head right where I’d been kicked. It hurt some, but I didn’t show it. “I’d been wondering—thanks for clearing that up for me.”

  And now, finally, Liz changed up her game. She got all stern and crossed her arms in front of her chest as she said, “Are you going to tell me what happened yourself, or do I have to ask your mom?”

  “Ask her whatever you want,” I said with a snarl. “That woman don’t know shit about what happened, big surprise. She’s even stupider than you are.”

  “Well, I guess that means I have to ask you again
,” Liz said. “It’d be a shame if you refused to answer and had to start coming in here twice a week again. Not a shame from my perspective, of course—I truly enjoy your company. But I know a guy like you, he’s got places to be at this hour.”

  I was squinting at her, trying to figure out what she was doing, whether she was making fun of me or not. Liz wasn’t that sharp, but she could be plenty conniving when she wanted to be. “Yeah, right,” I grumbled for lack of anything better to say.

  “No, I mean it,” Liz said. “You’re a very entertaining conversationalist, did you know that?”

  “Yeah, right.” I shrugged, wishing I could get out of there already. My head really was killing me, and I was having trouble keeping a step ahead of old Liz that day. Usually it was no problem, but after the shitty-ass day I’d just had, I wanted nothing more than to pop a few of my mom’s backache pills and crawl into bed while it was still light outside.

  “So why don’t you entertain me,” Liz said, “with an account of what exactly happened between last Monday and today to leave you coming in here like this?”

  Like what, I almost asked, but on second thought I didn’t have the energy. I shook my head and then, after thinking about it for a while, popped open the PQ she’d gotten me. This wasn’t going to be fun one way or the other, so I might as well quench my thirst. I took a gigantic glug and then smacked my lips together. Man, that shit tasted good.

  “Do you mind if I lie back on this?” I asked, pointing at the stank couch I was sitting on. The thing looked like it’d been on someone’s stoop for the last twenty years, getting pissed on by every passing rat, bum, and dog before old Liz took pity and dragged it up to this office. But my head was really pounding now, and even the artificial light in Liz’s windowless office was killing my eyes.

  This place felt a little like a jail cell, I realized, as Liz said in her best soothing voice, “Of course you can, sweetie. That’s just what it’s there for. Just make yourself as comfortable as you’d like.”

  Sweetie? But I wasn’t in the mood to pick no fights just then. I just let it go as I kicked up my legs, stretched out, and closed my eyes tight. I was that damn tired.

  20

  “I’d been looking forward to this party forever,” I said with my eyes still closed, and it was the truth. Especially that last day, after Nia and I had walked to OfficeMax together and she’d talked to me like a real friend, like someone she actually trusted. Well, so much for that bullshit.

  I’d spent a long time getting ready for the party: showered, patted my hair down, even clipped my fingernails and shit. When your ass is as big as mine is, you have limited options in the wardrobe department, but I did have one old-school pair of baggy jeans that my mom always said looked “slimming.” And I’d been saving them all week, along with my South Pole T-shirt that looked as good on me as anything else. I took a damp washcloth to my Foamposites so they’d look brand-new, which I guess they were. When I checked myself out in the mirror, I have to say, I looked kinda good.

  My mom insisted on driving me over there, but I told her just to drop me by school instead. “On a Saturday?” she asked a little skeptically. My mom was one of those old-fashioned types who had trouble believing that bad shit went down at school. She was from the time before metal detectors and actually thought school was for learning.

  “Yeah,” I answered quickly. “The party’s just two blocks away from Watkins, so a bunch of my friends and I are meeting on the playground so we can walk over together.”

  I could tell my mom liked that the party was so close to school, as if the scholarly vibes from Watkins might waft over to us while we were dancing or whatever. “All right then,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

  When my mom pulled the car up to the street side of the playground, a confused expression crossed her face. “There’s nobody there,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m just a little early,” I said. “Don’t worry about it—everyone’ll show up soon enough. So go on already, I don’t want to make you late for work.”

  My mom was always looking for permission to go ahead and do what she wanted to do anyway, so she nodded and clicked the doors unlocked. “All right, honey,” she said. “Have fun. Just be sure to be home by ten like we agreed on, all right? Evelyn doesn’t get off till eleven, but she’s coming right by our apartment to make sure you got back okay.”

  Yeah, sure. More like to patrol my every move and rat me out at her first opportunity. But I kept my thoughts to myself. I was this close to freedom, and I wasn’t about to blow it.

  As soon as my mom drove off, I started walking over to the other side of the school, for a couple of blocks retracing the route Nia and I had taken the day before. I hadn’t lied to my mom about Nia’s aunt living real close to school in that nondescript neighborhood with a bunch of one-story houses pushed all close together. But it wasn’t true that I was going over there with Andres and the boys. They were all pounding forties over at Darrell’s place, and even if they’d invited me I doubt I would’ve gone. I wanted to be by myself for a while.

  To keep from showing up at the party too early, I walked zigzag for a few minutes, then doubled back to the 7-Eleven on Franklin for some brain food. I picked up a PQ and a king-size Snickers bar and ate them in the parking lot out front before heading back into the neighborhood behind Watkins. I kept on zigzagging back and forth down the streets, always keeping a few blocks away from Cora’s street just in case someone spotted me.

  The houses around here weren’t much to look at—nothing like Maurice’s fancy-ass part of town—but still, a house was a house, and any house beat a crammed-full apartment like the one my mom and I shared. No wonder Nia’s mom was jealous of her little sister. I would be, too.

  Maurice had lived in a house for as long as he could remember, he told me once. They’d moved from his grandparents’ place when he was two, pretty soon after his dad had gotten the job at IBM. His neighborhood was one over from Nia’s aunt’s place, and a whole lot nicer, probably the second-nicest part of Garden City. It was mostly white, too, which could explain why Maurice acted the way he did: He’d always been an outsider. Another problem was that Maurice’s parents treated him like the world’s biggest genius, so he thought he could say whatever he wanted and get away with it, or more than that—be praised for it. No one had ever called him on his bullshit before, at least not until he met me.

  Yeah, Maurice lived in an all-white neighborhood and thought that just because his neighbors didn’t double-lock their car doors when they saw him coming, it meant that the whole world had changed. Well, he had no idea what he was talking about, and I was the only one who’d ever bothered teaching him that.

  It was dark out now, and I finally decided it’d be safe to head over to the party, so I turned that direction and started walking with more purpose. I was just about half a block away when I heard Andres’s voice behind me: “Hey, Butterball, man, wait up!”

  I turned to see him, Bobbie, and Darrell weaving up the street toward me. Part of me was relieved that I hadn’t gotten to the party too early, and that I wouldn’t have to show up alone like the friendless fatass I was. But another part of me felt . . . I can’t describe it exactly. Something other than relieved.

  “Hey, guys, what’s up what’s up,” I said, fist-bumping all three guys when they caught up to me. Even before any of them had spoken much—and even if I hadn’t overheard them discussing their plans at lunch the day before—I would’ve known they’d been drinking. It was something about how they were laughing too loudly, and for too long, at all sorts of shit that wasn’t even a little funny. And something about how Andres kept clapping me on the back, like bumping into me outside of Nia’s aunt’s house was just about the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

  He even complimented me—“Man, you’re sure looking sharp, ain’t you?”—and plucked my South Pole shirt between his fingers. “That’s a real fly shirt there. Goes great with your shoes.”

/>   “Thanks,” I said, feeling pretty good as we made our way into the little house.

  I’ve gotta say, given what Nia had told me the day before, the scene wasn’t entirely what I’d expected. She’d made it sound like Cora was all edgy and shit, but everyone there was all talking real quiet. And it felt more like a school assembly than a bumping Saturday-night party. There was a big ice-bucket filled with Poland Spring water bottles and Sprites, and the music playing was soft easy-listening shit, like maybe Dionne Warwick or Patti LaBelle. Music my mom listened to back when she had time to listen to music.

  After a few minutes, Nia rushed up to say hi. “What’s up, guys!” she exclaimed, greeting us all together. Looking at her, you’d never have guessed that the two of us had walked a mile down Franklin Avenue together just the day before. But I didn’t mind. I kinda liked having a little secret with her.

  “Here, come out back,” Nia said, tugging—I couldn’t help notice—Darrell by the arm. “My aunt is so cool. She set up a limbo pole for us!”

  The boys and I all looked at one another. A limbo pole? What, was Nia turning seven and not fourteen? But still, I gotta say, I thought her innocence was ... cool. It was one of the qualities that made her so sweet and open with everyone.

  “Oh, man,” Andres grumbled under his breath behind me. “This is one whacked-out party.” Bobbie and Darrell grunted their agreement as we followed Nia out back. The yard was barely bigger than my mom’s kitchen, but you could tell Cora and her boyfriend took good care of it. There was fresh grass and a couple of big potted plants. From inside the music was playing loud, but not loud enough to piss off the neighbors. It was just the right volume.

  “Hey, you want a beer or something?” Darrell asked me under his breath. “I got a whole bunch of them in my bag here.”

  I shot a glance over at Nia and shook my head. Even if she hadn’t been standing right there, my answer would’ve been the same: “Nah, I’m cool,” I said. I’d had sips of my dad’s beers all the time. I’d even been drunk before. But in front of Nia, I didn’t want to make an ass of myself for no reason.