by G. Neri
Kalvin put the phone down on the bed. “Looks like I taught you something.”
“I never hit anyone before,” I mumbled. He took my hand and stroked it softly.
“There’s nothing like it, right? The energy . . . surges through your body and you feel like you can do . . . anything,” he whispered, almost to himself. “That’s the lightning. That’s what you felt back there.”
“Adrenaline,” I said.
“No.” He traced his finger up my arm. “My pops used to say there’s a warrior spirit trapped in all of us. Some use it; most don’t. But when you whup someone good, that spirit gets knocked out of them and the warrior who hit ’em takes on that power. That’s the surge you felt. You took that dude’s power.”
I knew that was bullshit, but I couldn’t deny this crazy feeling I had: I did take that guy’s power. I could almost feel it coursing through my blood—I was somebody to be reckoned with.
Next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. Just like that. My mind kinda went blank but I found myself kissing back. I didn’t really know what to do. I wondered if I was kissing him right, but he was like a dancer, leading me, showing me what to do and I just sank into those lips of his. His arms held me close, his body on mine—but he didn’t try to force anything.
I couldn’t tell him I was a virgin, but he probably sensed I was uptight. I kissed him a little too hard and our teeth hit. I pulled back embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to care. He was all clean and smelled good, and I was still sweaty from the park but he seemed to like that. I let him guide me. His hand drifted down, and I found myself grabbing his wrist when it got to my waist. He eased up. That surprised me, him taking it slow and easy. I liked that.
As soon as it felt like we were just going to make out, I relaxed. I mean, he was naked except for his towel. And I could feel his . . . you know . . . on my leg, but even that didn’t freak me out too much. His kissing put me back at ease.
The only thought in my head, besides how nice this felt, was to flash back to a couple of months ago, when I was so alone floating at the bottom of that pool.
For once, I felt like I belonged.
15
When me and the Knockout King emerged from the door that led out to the roof, the boys all looked at us with a funny expression. They were huddled around a metal trash can, their eyes lit up by the fire. Boner came panting up to Kalvin, relieved to see his master.
“What are they staring at?” I said.
Kalvin picked up Boner and whispered into my ear. “You.”
When they lowered their eyes, I felt like royalty.
Kalvin broke the spell. “Who wants some Kool-Aid?” Hands shot up. They may be tough Tokers, but inside, they were still kids.
We sat around the fire drinking Kool-Aid and eating Doritos. Me and the King sat on a utility box and Prince squatted with the minions looking none too pleased.
“What’s his deal?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s just bein’ Prince is all. He get jealous easily. It’s that hot Latino blood, I guess.”
“About what?”
“Not what. Who. Just ignore him; he’ll get over it.”
He surveyed the scene, me by his side. His eyes connected with Tyreese and he nodded his approval. “I was twelve when I started training out here, just like these guys. Pops taught me to fight right where they are now. It was either fight or get thrown off.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“For real. He used to whup my butt, but one day I got better of him and he stopped training me. I started going to the gym and Teacher Man turned me into a boxer. But hitting a bag gets boring pretty quick.”
He watched two of the Tokers going at it over the last of the Doritos. That made him grin. “Back in the day, me and this other dude named Tuffy . . . we were hanging out with nothing to do. We joked around, talking about all the people that passed us on the street. Then one guy gave us a look like he didn’t like us and I said something like, ‘Man, I’d like to pop that dude.’”
“And did you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t have a good reason, but I was bragging about how I could take that guy down in one blow, and ol’ Tuffy said, ‘So what’re you waiting for?’ I had no choice then, so I walked up behind the guy as he’s waiting at a crosswalk. I just whacked him in the side of the head. Only problem was, being thirteen, I wasn’t so buffed out like now and it just pissed him off. He chased us for a whole block before we jumped some fences and lost him.”
He laughed at the memory, raising his cup for a toast. “Here’s to ol’ Tuff,” he said. “My former right hand, my ex-CEO, and brother of badass!”
Prince overheard him. That didn’t help his mood any.
Kalvin ignored him. “I didn’t hit someone again till after—you know, after my pops was gone.”
“Your dad died?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, but a darkness passed through his face. He was staring at Prince and then his eyes lit up again. “When word got out, young Prince here showed up looking to prove himself. Little wetback kid trying to sling it like us. Now normally, blacks and Latinos hate each other’s guts. But you know what? He proved his worth. I’m a equal opportunity guy when it comes to people willing to prove themselves.”
He raised his cup to Prince, who toasted back. “He knows I love him like a brother,” said K. “And man, did we have us some times. But by the time I got to Truman High, I kinda outgrew it. I liked getting these Tokers going and training them and whatnot. It’s like raising little pit bulls.”
It was nice hearing him talk. Part of me wished I was shooting this, but the other part was just glad to be sitting here with him. “Sounds . . . nice?”
He gave me a sour look. “Nice? I don’t know about that. But most of these Tokers don’t got dads, so I feel I’m giving ‘em something I didn’t have. You know . . . direction. Something to feel part of.”
I found myself staring at his lips while he talked. There was something odd about his teeth. The front four were whiter than the rest.
He caught me staring at his mouth. “What?”
“Are those . . . fake teeth?”
He was a little embarrassed, but just shook his head and kissed me, his mouth opened wide. Someone dropped their Kool-Aid. I felt Kalvin’s tongue pushing and then—
“Jesus!” I pulled away and spit something on the ground. His four front teeth.
Kalvin fell on the ground cackling. The others caught on and C-Jay ran over and picked up the teeth and held them up to me. “These yours?”
“That’s . . . disgusting.”
“You asked!” Kalvin said, his face red from laughing so hard.
I flipped them both off. “I’m going.”
“Come on!” I heard him say. “I thought you liked my smile!”
“Not in my mouth.”
“Let her go,” said Prince.
Kalvin waved him off and caught me at the door with his hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” he said softly. “Are you really mad or just showing off?”
I turned and stared into his green eyes. “That was disgusting.”
“Yeah, I guess it was. I’m sorry.”
I softened.
“But you gotta admit, it was funny, right?”
I shrugged. It was. “Only for sick minds.”
“Sick minds think alike.” He nudged me. “So we good?”
“Maybe.”
Then before he kissed me, I slipped out of his hold and walked down the stairs. He watched me walk away. “Hard to get. Good move.”
He was grinning, his four front teeth missing.
16
I woke up the next morning, the sun falling on my face. As I stretched out on my bed, I actually felt different. When I glanced in the mirror, I even looked a little different. My skin kind of glowed. Or maybe it was just because I couldn’t stop smiling.
All day at school, I kept thinking of Kalvin. Destiny had heard rumors and tried interrogating me,
but it got her nowhere.
I interrogated her back about her mystery call at the park, but she just said it was a family thing. She’d heard about the Metal Detector Man. “I guess you one of us now.” She didn’t seem too pleased about it, though.
After school, I had some errands I had to run for Mom, but I knew I’d make a pit stop at a certain person’s apartment.
Kalvin lived across from an old brick church. The neighborhood was not bad, all lawns and charming houses. K lived in a small yellow-bricked apartment complex on the corner. When I spotted him, he was standing on the stoop of his building. Prince and some of the crew were standing on the steps talking to some older white guy wearing a bright red shirt. The man was in his fifties, with sad but intense eyes. He was also pointing a bulky old video camera at K.
As I got closer, I realized the guy wasn’t exactly talking. More like yelling. At them.
His red T-shirt sported the phrase, “We Are Watching” in big letters over a giant eye. They reminded me of the graffiti Eyez I had seen painted around the neighborhoods, always watching.
The first thing I heard him saying was: “You need to educate yourself!” He was hiding behind his camera, his free hand waving in the air. “You people are trapped in the prison mindset of self-hatred. Knock out your ignorance and not the people who can’t defend themselves.”
K stood there with his arms crossed and a slightly amused look on his face. “What do you mean ‘you people’?” Boner snapped at the man. The Tokers circled him—hyenas ready to pounce.
The man ignored them. “I was with the Marines, man. I’ve been around; I know what conflict is. But those people fought for a cause. You’re just wasting time. I know you are smarter than that. You’re the leader here, I can see. And I see you. The camera sees you. Why not teach these young people to fight with their minds instead of their fists? Otherwise, you’re just a racist thug.”
I took out my camera. This is not something you see every day, so I wanted to document it. K noticed me, then whispered something to Prince, who called his boys back into the house.
“Racist? What the fuck are you talking about? I’m black.” He poked his finger into the guy’s shoulder.
The man didn’t care. He kept railing at Kalvin. “Racism cuts both ways, brother. There’s a race war going on in this country. You’re targeting white people, and that’s what we call a hate crime.”
“Whoa, whoa—” said Kalvin. “We don’t target white people, brother. Because we haven’t done anything. And even if I did, I wouldn’t hit a white person just ‘cause they’re white. I got nothing against white people. Some of my best friends are white. He snuck a quick glance at me.
So how ’bout we look at you instead?” Kalvin took a step toward him. “You’re just like the cops—profiling us ‘cause we’re black. You see a black teen and you think oh, he’s out to get me! But really, it’s you, creating paranoia and hate.”
The man wouldn’t back down. “Don’t try to put some spin on your thuggery. You’re targeting white people and taking out your hate on them! Can’t you see that?”
Kalvin eyed him coldly. “I see a white man who knows he’s the minority now. Who’s afraid, now that the power’s out of his hands, from the White House to the streets. Maybe when you were young, this neighborhood was all-white, and you had your way. Well, I’m the president here and you and your little club with your red shirts surveilling us like we’re a bunch of dogs to be kept down, that ain’t gonna fly. Not anymore.”
Even from here, I could see the man’s face turning red. If he was a cartoon, he’d have steam coming out of his ears. He had to fight to regain his calm.
“Your time . . . will come,” he spat. “Sooner or later, we’ll get you in action on tape and that’ll be it. All your fancy rationale will mean squat and all that will speak is the violence you and your homies lay on the rest of us. The whole neighborhood is watching you, whether you like it or not. We’re not going away.” He held up his camera. “I’m not going away. We already have tape of all of you looking for targets.”
K had heard enough. “Them’s big words.” He grabbed the camera right out of the man’s hands. He had very fast hands, boxer’s hands. The man was shocked and stammered on as K popped the tape out of the camera, using his body to keep the man from grabbing it back. “By the way, videotape’s kinda outdated. You might consider joining us here in the future.” He cracked the cassette on the railing and unspooled the tape. Then he smiled and tossed the camera back at the man.
“Don’t you know about backing up your work? Otherwise you might accidentally delete it.” K threw a handful of discarded tape in the air and let it rain down on the man before tossing the cassette to the side. He turned and went inside, shutting the door in the guy’s face.
The man pulled the tape off his head angrily. I almost laughed, but then he just stood there for a few seconds, fuming. He was about to bang on the door then stopped, his fist frozen in midair. Finally, he flipped off the door in frustration and stormed back to the street.
He saw me with my camera. I quickly turned it off and shoved it in the pocket of my hoodie.
“Did you see that? Idiots and thugs. Just walking all over us without fear of prosecution.”
He reached into his bag, pulled out a flyer and handed one to me. “I’m running the neighborhood watch group. We need more people on the streets to keep us safe. Come to the rally. We need your support.” He pointed to my camera. “I see you have one too. Good. The more eyes out there, the better. Together, we’ll make a difference.”
I watched him walk away. “Check out our website!” he said over his shoulder. I studied the flyer.
It was for a rally tomorrow in front of the church here. Knockout Violence! it said.
I watched him hurry down the street handing out flyers to anyone who’d stop to talk. Then he turned and walked up to a small brick house. An older lady with long graying hair and round glasses was planting sunflowers in the front yard. When they kissed, I recognized her: Mrs. Lee.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Kalvin, leaning out a second-story window. “Just an old crank getting in people’s business. Got turned down by the cops, kicked out of the war. Now he thinks he’s a vigilante taking on the young punks who fuck everything up.”
“You mean you?”
“Smartass. That includes you too, don’t forget that. And did you notice how in his eyes, a white girl gets a pass every time?”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“So, you just gonna stand there, or are you coming up?”
I stared down at the flyer, folded it up, and pocketed it. That man got me a little rattled. “I got some stuff to do. I just . . . wanted to stop by.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. Just . . . to say hi.”
“Oh. . . hey.”
I waved. “Hi.”
He shook his head, laughing. “You’re funny, Fish. You’re looking pretty good, though. You dress up for me?”
I shuffled my feet. Maybe, a little.
“Mm-mmm,” he said smiling. “You sure you don’t wanna come up for a bit?”
I did but . . . “Maybe later?”
He shrugged. “OK, then. Text me; I got something coming up you should come to.”
He waved and disappeared from sight.
I could feel that flyer burning a hole in my pocket. It made me uneasy; the bruises on my knuckles began to ache.
I started walking the other way. I needed to clear my mind. I glanced back at Kalvin’s apartment. I thought I saw Destiny peeking out the window, but I could’ve been wrong.
17
All that night, I kept thinking about Mrs. Lee’s boyfriend or husband or whatever he was. It was one thing to see a mention in the paper. But now, people were looking at TKO. Maybe he was just a crank, somebody who thought he could rid the world of everything he thought was bad. But he had a big mouth and sometimes big mouths get heard. Which meant that if K and
the boys ever got caught, I’d get caught too.
I stared at the flyer again. It said things like: BLACK ON WHITE CRIME! SPEAK OUT! TAKE BACK OUR NEIGHBORHOODS! They called us mindless and criminal too. It made us look like we were some thugs roaming the streets, raping and pillaging. Were we? I mean old people are always complaining about young people—the music is too loud; they’re into drugs and sex and video games. Knockout was just another game compared to the guys on my corner who were actual crackheads and dealers or gangbangers or whatever. They actually killed people. How come they weren’t being hunted down? OK, I knew that was bullshit but still, compared to what some others were doing . . .
On the flyer, I noticed a link to a Facebook page. I was curious, so I looked it up.
The group page was called Knockout Violence! There was a picture of a group of people who called themselves The Watchers (as in, we’re watching you) all wearing those red shirts with eyes on them. That man was front and center. His name was Joe Lee and he was a medic in the Iraq war who’d been injured and now is all about helping fight for a strong community. There was a page about the protest, followed by links to news coverage of different attacks that had happened. These attacks went back several years. I read a few of them and it made me upset.
At the bottom of the page was a YouTube video with the man’s face on it. My cursor hovered over the PLAY button and finally, I just clicked on it.
The man was sitting at his desk, an American flag behind him.
“My name is Joe Lee. I’m a former medic for the Marines and head of the neighborhood watch committee for the Tower Grove area. I want to be clear up front: we are a group of concerned citizens who are not willing to stand by while our way of life is slowly being destroyed. It is being shattered by random attacks on white citizens by black perpetrators.” He paused dramatically. “There, I said it. This is not some crazy right-wing conspiracy from Fox News. In fact, I wish you could hear about it on Fox News, or any news, but the media refuses to call a spade a spade, because it’s not PC to say black-on-white crime. But the facts are what they are. If you are white, you need to be on alert. It doesn’t matter if you are young or old, male or female. If you live in St. Louis, particularly—”