Knockout Games

by G. Neri

  She patted his hand. “I know you are, son. As long as you’re trying to better yourself, I’ll be on your side.”

  “I did mess up one thing, though.”

  His mom lowered her head. “What’s that, son?”

  “I messed up with that girl in there. She trusted me and I kind of screwed it all up.”

  I almost believed him.

  “Well, what do you do when you mess up, Kal?”

  He knew the answer, which they said together like they’d practiced it a hundred times before.

  “You make it better.”

  She stood. “I’m going to the store. You spend time with that girl and make things right, ya hear?”

  “I will, Mom.”

  When she left, Kalvin just sat there petting his dog. After a minute, he said, “I know you’re listening.”

  I opened the door and walked over to him, plopped down on the couch. This day just kept getting stranger and stranger. “What’re you going to do?”

  “About us?” He moved his hand over toward me, but I didn’t take it.

  “About the cops,” I said.

  That stopped him. He got up and went to the window, overlooking his kingdom. “I gotta do some cleaning up. Prince shouldn’ta disobeyed me. And Joe Lee, well, he’ll have to learn that sometimes speaking out only makes things worse.”

  I got up to leave. He didn’t move from the window. Before I stepped out the door, I asked, “Is it true you wrote a poem for me?”

  He didn’t even look at me. “I don’t write poems. I take care of business. You do what you gotta do.”

  25

  The next morning, I woke up antsy and paranoid. I hadn’t slept much all night and when I did, all I had were weird dreams. I dreamt Kalvin’s dad was teaching me how to fight. After he showed me a thing or two, he wanted me to prove myself by knocking out Kalvin. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “It’s okay,” he said. “He deserves it.” When his dad yelled at me to do it, I jumped off the roof and landed in the park where the Metal Detector Man saw me and started chasing me, yelling, “You did it! I know it was you!”

  I sat on my bed feeling like they were on to me. Who they were, I wasn’t sure. Jamison? Kalvin? Rodney Graves said arrests would be made. Did they already know everything? I was about to call Destiny, but what if they tapped the phone? That was followed by, How would they know to tap my phone?

  I was already late for school, but I got on to my Facebook page. First thing I did was delete any video that had anyone from the TKO club in it. I kept refreshing and logging on and off until I was sure they were gone.

  Then I remembered Destiny had shared them and who knows who else shared hers. I panicked. Jumped on Google and luckily figured out that deleting got rid of the shared videos too.

  After they were deleted, I grabbed my camera and deleted everything on that as well. And then I thought about my computer. Everything was on there too. Should I delete my hard drive? Yes.

  I was losing my mind.

  In that moment I thought of Destiny. I couldn’t lose her. I needed to talk to someone and the only someone who might understand was royally pissed off at me.

  I texted anyway.

  Me: R we ok?

  I sent it off. I waited. And waited. No response.

  She was normally quick to answer. That was it. I could take a hint. I didn’t want to go back to having no friends. I’d let her chill twenty-four hours, then try talking to her again.

  I could call up Mom. She’d be at work, all stressing as she usually does. What was I gonna say? I know what Dad would say: Your problem, you deal with it.

  And that’s when somebody pounded on my door. “Open up, police.”

  My heart stopped. I looked out my second-story window. I could jump. Maybe onto a car so I didn’t break an ankle. I pictured my mom getting a phone call about how either I broke both my legs from the jump or I was in jail or—

  Then I heard someone snickering.

  Jesus. I walked closer to the door and now the person was laughing pretty hard.

  I peered through the peephole. Prince was standing there, his head shaved.

  I flung the door open and smacked him in the shoulder. “You scared the shit outta me!” I hissed.

  He held up his hands. “’Spensa—my bad, Fish. I couldn’t help myself. It was too easy.”

  I gawked at his pale skull. It made his whole head seem smaller. “Nice look, by the way.”

  “Gotta adapt,” is all he said as he walked past me. His eyes scanned the room. He was not impressed. “I really had you scared, didn’t I?”

  Why was he here? “How come you’re not in jail?”

  “How come you’re not in school?”

  I tried not to look panicky. “I wasn’t feeling good.”

  He shrugged. “They couldn’t pin anything on me. It was dark. They showed my picture to a couple of witnesses, but they were old and didn’t see so well, so they couldn’t pin it on me. Besides, Destiny was my alibi. We were ‘studying’ together that night.”

  I didn’t want to know what that meant. “But it was you, right?”

  He smirked. “Got any beer?”

  I crossed my arms. “It’s morning.”

  “Doritos?”

  I shook my head. “What. Do. You. Want?”

  He crashed on our couch, spreading out. “K sent me.”

  “K sent you? Aren’t you on his shit list?”

  He glared at me. “We had a talk.” He grunted painfully as he sank into my couch. “He’s seeing things more my way now.”

  “Really.” I said. “What’s he want, then? He can’t text anymore?”

  He shrugged. “Just being safe. Don’t know when the cops’re listening.” Prince cleared his throat. He didn’t act so cocky. “Our idea is not to pull back.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, we go out again on Saturday.” He leaned forward. “Play Knockout. BAM!” He performed an epic knockout punch for me.

  I stared at him for a good ten seconds. “Are you. . . as stupid as I think you are? Didn’t you just get questioned by Jamison and that cop?”

  He was annoyed by my questions. “Yeah, and what happened? Nada. K said what you said. At first. Then I reminded him that the Knockout King don’t run from nobody. See, they expect their little threat will be enough to scare off the Tokers. But not K and not me. Are you kidding? We thrive on that shit.”

  “Yeah, well you can count me out. I’m done.”

  He was trying to see if I was bluffing. “Destiny’s coming,” he said.

  “Bullshit.”

  He leaned back again, shaking his head. “You got huevos, I’ll give you that. If I had my own crew, I’d want you on my side too. Though I hear things are not so good for you at the moment.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, I personally could give a shit one way or the other. But if you’re not there, I’m sure Destiny will step up and take your spot.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He stood and moved toward the door, stopping just short. “Tell me. What did you feel when I pounded on the door and yelled ‘Police’? You probably thought of all kinds of crazy shit. Should I grab a knife? Hide? Jump out the window?”

  He saw my reaction to that last one and smiled. “Uh-huh. At that moment, anything coulda gone down. One minute you was just sitting there, the next—you were a chola thinking of becoming a fugitive, right?”

  “That doesn’t mean I like it.”

  He didn’t believe me. “I seen that look in your eye, when you hit that metal detector guy. The way you stayed behind with K on the roof.”

  “So?”

  “So you like it. Don’t lie.”

  He opened the front door. “I’ll tell ya something else: chinga la juda—fuck the police. They don’t scare me. They want to change the rules? Fine. We can change too.” He poked me in the chest. “We’re making a statement on Satur
day, so you better show up next to the library on Grand Avenue. Eleven a.m. Otherwise, those who don’t play, get played.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “You’re smart. Figure it out,” he said, walking away.

  26

  At nine o’clock, Mom woke me up. It was already bright out; for a second I thought I’d overslept.

  “It’s Saturday,” she said. “I made breakfast. Come eat before I go to sleep.”

  I stumbled out of bed and plopped myself down at the kitchen table. She’d made pancakes. When she served me, she paused for a second, looking at something on my neck.

  We sat there eating in silence, but something was on her mind. Finally, she said, “What’s on your neck?”

  I touched it. “What?”

  “Looks like a hicky,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  My face felt hot. “I probably bruised myself when I fell the other day.”

  I should’ve had a better comeback. “I used to fall too, when your dad first dated me.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  She sighed. “Well, it was going to happen, so . . .”

  She wasn’t mad, maybe a bit sad. “One day, I’ll wake up and have missed all your teen years.” She put her hand on my arm. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  Probably not anything. “Yeah . . .,” I said.

  “Even boys. Especially boys.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m almost sixteen, Mom. I’m not a baby.”

  She nodded. “I know. I was talking to your dad yesterday. I was thinking about inviting him here for Thanksgiving.”

  “I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” I said.

  “I think he wants to come. He feels like he’s missing out on your teen years too.”

  I almost laughed. “He can have them.”

  “Don’t say that. I mean, I know it can be hard. There’s no doubt, you wind up doing some crazy . . . stuff. You’re going to mess up. That’s almost your job as a teen, to mess up. It’s our job to make sure you survive those years. He just wants to be involved.”

  She didn’t know the half of it. “I’ll survive, Mom. You’ll see.”

  She stroked my hair. “I hope so.”

  “Me too.”

  After Mom went to sleep, it was almost 10:30. I sat on the couch, reminding myself that there was no way I was gonna go down to the library. No way she’d be bailing me out of jail tonight.

  My heart jumped around like I’d just downed four Red Bulls. I tried breathing slowly, closing my eyes the way those yoga people do. Breathe in, breathe out. Let go.

  Something skittered across the window like hard rain. I opened an eye. The sky was gray, but it wasn’t raining.

  I closed my eyes again. Something hit the window.

  I got up to check it out. Peering down to the street, I saw Tyreese standing there by himself. He spotted me and waved me down. I shook my head, but he wouldn’t leave. Finally, I opened the window.

  “Come on; you gotta come!” he said, worried, maybe even scared.

  “No, I’m staying,” I said as loud as I could without waking Mom. “You go.”

  He shook his head, waved me down again. “Something’s gonna happen. You gotta come!”

  He was talking too loud. “Hold on.” I pocketed my camera like always, heading downstairs. When I opened the door to the front of the building, Tyreese was standing there. He had the face of a kid whose teddy bear was just stolen.

  “Look, I can’t go,” I told him. “I got a million things to do, and besides, they shouldn’t even be out playing, there are too many eyes—”

  He took three steps and wrapped his arms around me. “You gotta come, Fish. K’s doin’ something that ain’t good.”

  “What?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Maybe you can stop him before he gets in too much trouble.”

  I felt his tears soaking my shirt. “Tyreese, what’s he gonna do?”

  “He’s going after the bullhorn man. I think he’s gonna do something bad. Just come with me?”

  Jesus. It’s like he wants to get caught. Either that or Kalvin thinks he’s invincible and he loves rubbing it in. “Is he at the library?”

  He nodded. “Come on; he’ll listen to you.”

  I doubted that. But somebody had to do something.

  27

  We reached the library around eleven. The wind was picking up: you could almost feel a storm was coming. I threw up my hoodie and walked faster. We had passed a group of Watchers a few blocks back. Not a good sign.

  Tyreese spotted Prince and five Tokers sitting on a bus bench from across the street. It was an odd scene—the skin-head Latino with five black kids. When Prince saw us coming, he gritted his teeth and nodded. “Yo, make way for the queen and her little puto! Good job, Tyreese.”

  I looked at Tyreese, who grew quiet.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Kalvin?”

  Prince gestured toward the library just as Kalvin was making his way out. He paused when he saw me and walked calmly across the street, even though cars were coming. They honked and swerved out of the way, but he didn’t care. He had his eyes on me.

  “Well?” asked Prince.

  “He’s in there,” said Kalvin, his green eyes blazing bright.

  “Who?” I asked.

  He scowled and spat on the street. “Joe Lee, of course. He needs a little reminder of who runs this ’hood.”

  It was like talking to a child. “Why are you being so stupid? He knows who you are,” I said, stating the obvious. “Why do you have to always push the line? It’s so dumb.”

  C-Jay piped up. “Don’t call K dumb, bitch.”

  Kalvin slapped him upside the head. “A little respect, Toker.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Things were getting too routine anyways. A little excitement gets the blood going. You know how it is.”

  I did, but I wasn’t proud of it.

  Prince stared at Kalvin. “A rat’s gotta be taken care of or next thing you know, there’ll be a plague.”

  Kalvin fist-bumped Prince. “He’s in there. When he comes out, we’ll give ’em a first-rate Knockout Game experience, courtesy of the King hisself.”

  He kissed his fists and acted out a slow-motion pounding.

  I moved in close and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  He stopped his act and glared at me. He slowly exhaled, then took me by the arm and walked me over by a closed-down bakery.

  “What?”

  I had to choose my words carefully. “I thought the main rule of the Knockout Game was to pick a totally random stranger.”

  He nodded. “It is. But sometimes you have to send a message that outsiders shouldn’t interfere. They need to know we can’t be stopped.”

  “Well, then it’s not really a game, is it?” I whispered so the Tokers wouldn’t hear.

  He shrugged. “It’s all a game, don’t you know that? School. Work. Life. We’re all being played by someone. Might as well be a playa than be played, ya feel me?”

  “I know you’re smarter than that. Why can’t you just stop? I mean, what’s the big deal?”

  I pointed out how all his boys were awaiting his word. They’d do anything he asked.

  “Well the thing is . . .” he started to say. “I saw this TV show once about sharks. It said that they can never stop moving ‘cause they need oxygen to keep flowing through their gills or something. That means if they stop, they die.”

  “So, what, you’re the shark? If you stop attacking people, you’ll die?” I asked, unconvinced.

  He bit his lip, his eyes studying me carefully. “Look.” He held up his fists. “Knockout King. That’s who I am. That’s all I ever been good at. And I’m fine with that. I’m not gonna go to college and do something big. I don’t want to waste time flipping burgers, so I’m doing this. It keeps me sharp.”

  “Kalvin—” my brain was reeling. “I think . . . there’s a good person . . . inside of you. You
can change—”

  “What are you, one of those white movie characters trying to save the black guy from wasting his life away? Fuck that. I don’t wanna change; don’t you get it?” He held me by the shoulders so he could look me straight in the eyes. “You. Can’t. Change. Me. I come as is. I accept that. So should you.” He paused a moment, waiting to see if I’d say anything.

  I had seen enough. “I’m sorry, then. I can’t do this anymore. I thought I meant something to you.”

  “Hold on,” he said. He seemed puzzled. When I began to walk away, he just said, “You do. ‘Course you do. But these are two different things.”

  “No, they’re not. You were with me because of TKO. Because I had a camera. Because I knocked someone out. But that’s not me. I’m not that person. And if this is the real you—then I’m out.”

  “Out? Out of what?” he asked.

  “Everything,” I said.

  He squared himself. “You can’t just leave.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  He took a step toward me. “Because you can’t.” His body was all tensed up.

  “Or what? You going to hit me?”

  He blinked, almost surprised by the idea. He licked his lips as he considered it, but then he softened his stance. “Don’t be like this. I like having you around me. I need you here. Just . . . play along, will ya?” He reached out and gently took my hand in his, staring at the bruises. “I know you have doubts,” he said. “I know that. It’s cool. You’re looking out for me and the Tokers, and you want what’s best. I see that.” He nodded as if trying to convince himself. “But what you don’t see is . . . they got us pegged, the cops. Even if we did nothing, they’d always be stopping us, blaming us for this or that. You don’t know what that’s like. They don’t stop a white girl, make you get on your knees, cuff you in front of your own home.”

  “That’s just an excuse. How many times has that happened to you, really?”

  “Enough.” He made a funny noise in his throat, like he swallowed something that he didn’t like. “Ask my moms. The last time they hassled me, Mom was there and they made her get on the ground, spread out on the sidewalk, a knee in her neck, just to get me riled enough to throw a punch. That was the one time I didn’t, ’cause I knew they’d go to town on me. After that, I decided to play by my own rules.” He paused thoughtfully. “I just want to be with you.” He was still holding on to my hand. He placed it on his chest. “Feel that? That’s my heart racin’. That’s you.” He put his hand over my heart. “Yours too.”