Linus Flip laughed at Dexter.
Dex stepped up and introduced her to the group. “Marissa, you might already know these characters but I’m a gentleman, so I’ll introduce them anyway.” Dex kissed Marissa on the cheek. “This is Xavier, Bigstick, and Linus Flip.” He smiled at Marissa. “Everybody, this is my new boo, Marissa Steel.”
The only thing Xavier could see was another one of his homeboy’s outrageous outfits.
“You just keep getting ridiculous with your choice of threads,” Xavier said to Dex, shaking his head. “Who you supposed to be today—all that orange—the great pumpkin?”
“Trick or treat.” That was Linus Flip.
Everybody in the circle was laughing their behinds off.
Dex wasn’t sweating it, though. He had a fine sista on his arm who validated his new look. He was rocking a bright orange body-fitting mock neck underneath the same color cardigan sweater, with darker orange skinny pants, and blue sneakers trimmed in orange. The dude was even carrying an orange man-bag.
Bigstick had to take a swing. “You got a purse to match every color of outfit, don’t you, fam?”
Marissa jumped to her man’s defense. “Haters. My man looks good. All of you could learn a thing or two from his style.” She kissed Dex on the jaw and looped her arm around his.
Dexter looked at all his friends and smugly smiled.
Xavier said, “ ‘Learn a thing from his style’?—damn, man. You got her brainwashed.”
Linus Flip added, “She sounds just like you.”
Dex put his arm around Marissa and slowly walked off, looking backwards. “Y’all just haters. But I don’t know why I expected any different; you cats ain’t even on my level of fashion. Have a conversation with me when y’all get up outta sneakers and jeans—you know, little boy stuff. I’m a grown man, dog.”
It took Xavier to bring his homeboy’s big ol’ helium head back to earth. “Last year you wanted to be a thug. This year you don’t know if you wanna dress like Dwayne Wade or Kanye West. Next year you probably gonna be wearing a blouse, skirt, and stilettos—punk!”
With his arm draped around his chick, Dexter threw a dismissive gesture at Xavier with his free hand and continued walking.
As they watched him walk away, the new dude, Kato Holloway, walked out of the south entrance by himself, like a true boss. Still flexin’ those nice, glittery stones in his ears and confidently looking out at the world through Cartier frames.
Linus Flip looked at Kato and questioned, “Who dat dude?”
“Kato Holloway,” Xavier answered. “All I can tell you is that blood’s in my art appreciation class, a latecomer.”
Bigstick said, “Those earrings have to be two karats apiece, and those glasses ain’t no joke, fam. They had to set a brotha back a few Gs.”
“Does the fool know exactly what kind of school this is?” Flip wanted to know.
Kato walked right by them and acknowledged them with a nod as he kept it funky. The cat walked like he hadn’t a care in the world and with his keyless entry, popped the locks on an out-cold black Chevy TrailBlazer SS sitting on twenty-inch chrome. He jumped in, started up, and skirted out, a powerful bass beat thumping from the speakers of his car stereo system when he reached the parking lot driveway. Way after Kato turned and disappeared down the street, his volcano-like bass could still be heard rumbling in the distance.
Linus Flip just shook his head. “I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer but, X, didn’t you tell us this dude just enrolled?”
Xavier scratched his head. “Yep. There’s something about this cat I just can’t put a finger on.”
“Skip putting a finger on, but if fam get caught slipping at Coleman styling like that, man, some stick-up kid is gonna push his wig back,” Bigstick said. “I’m just saying.”
“I don’t know about that, B,” Xavier replied. “Something is telling me that this kid is no joke. Unless he’s been living under a rock, the cat is familiar with Coleman’s reputation. He just walked out of the building without backup and jumped into a sweet sled with no fear whatsoever. I hope these fools up here don’t take Mr. Holloway lightly.”
Kato was a mystery wearing Timberland boots and driving a freaky TrailBlazer SS. You just didn’t do those kinds of things at Coleman and think that you weren’t going to be touched. In time the truth would be revealed. This movie had yet to play out. But this dude’s gangsta was legitimate. Every drop was advertised in Kato’s swagger.
Nothing got past Xavier. He understood it because he was it, a true beast in his own right. So it took one to know one. Xavier already knew what Kato was about. The only thing that could be said about this situation was that game recognized game.
13
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 15
10:00 A.M.
There were five minutes to go in the third quarter of the high school football game. The Coleman High Wolverines were whipping up on the Cass Tech Falcons, 40 to 16, and the Wolverines had just scored off a Falcon fumble caused by the tackle put on their running back by Coleman’s own super-sensation middle linebacker, Calvin “Bigstick” Mack. Coleman High students in the stands went berserk, yelling and screaming. The roar was even more deafening after the Wolverines kicked the extra point through the uprights. The stands, filled to maximum capacity, emptied as spectators swarmed over every square inch of the football field.
Xavier, Dex, and Linus Flip had enjoyed the game. They remained in the stands, enjoying the spectacle, when Xavier excused himself to use the restroom. Linus offered to escort Xavier to the lavatory by the boys’ locker room. Xavier declined and made his way out of the stands. Once he was on the ground, he spotted Samantha and Sean Desmond way up at the top of the bleachers, surrounded by scores of people. Mr. Shortstop was making her laugh by whispering something in her ear.
And she said they were only friends. Looks like more than that to me, Xavier thought. He turned quickly and walked away. Once, she used to laugh and look at him like that.
People were all over the back parking lot. Standing in groups. Talking and laughing with one another. Having a great time. Xavier had to weave his way through the crowds to get back to the locker room.
Samantha was on his mind. He’d lost her forever. Xavier wasn’t in her league when it came down to money, and despite how bad it hurt to recognize this, he had to keep it one-hun’ed with himself. There was no way he could compete with Sean Desmond’s future multimillion-dollar contract. The only thing he could do right now was try to stay alive and hope to finish his junior year outside of a body bag.
Xavier was through the side door and around a corner, headed down a corridor to the boys’ lavatory near the gymnasium when he thought he heard the same door he’d come through open and close behind him. He paid no mind and proceeded to the restroom. But it was locked. The one by the cafeteria was always open, so he headed that way.
Xavier didn’t get it. As he freely roamed the hallways, there were no signs of security anywhere. In the past when he’d gotten the urge to take a leak during a game it was nothing to spot Doug and his team walking through the building. By the cafeteria he entered the restroom. As he did his business he hadn’t meant to think about Heather and all of her foolishness. He hadn’t responded to any of her text messages, so she had stopped. She must have gotten the message. He hadn’t seen the lunatic around school either. Not even in English. And that was okay. Xavier had never told the fellas that he’d gotten his bell rung at the pool hall that night. It wasn’t their business. Matter of fact, nobody needed to know that. The secret would die with him.
He finished up, washed his hands, and dried them on a paper towel. He walked out of the lavatory and right into a blood-chilling scene eerily reminiscent of some high school horror movie. Tall and Husky with the charcoal skin and big ears was back and standing to Xavier’s left, blocking off the intersection to the hallway. The thug was still wearing the same dark Rocawear hoodie Xavier had seen him in when they first locked eyes in the ca
feteria.
This wasn’t the time for his sense of humor to kick in, but Xavier couldn’t help it. Either this moron was a rabid Jay-Z fan or the hooded sweatshirt was his favorite to wear when he felt that occasional impulse to try and hurt somebody.
Xavier thought about getting cute and walking up to Tall and Husky. That was until the fool went underneath the hooded sweatshirt. It was on. The dude had to have been sent by Slick Eddie. But Xavier wasn’t sticking around to find out, or see what type of weapon he’d pulled. Tall and Husky didn’t look like the type to bluff. Going underneath the hoodie was all it took. Now Xavier’s initial reaction was to get ghost. And that he did. The boy could hear nothing but the sound of his feet pounding the hallway as he broke to his right and ran like his feet were on fire.
Despite bullets not being fired, Xavier knew that the hit man was behind him. He could hear the soles of homeboy’s sneakers squeak against the surface, as he tried to keep up. But Xavier kept his head down, leaning forward too much and almost taking a tumble, as he ran for his life. It would’ve been foolish to look back. The dude behind him was packing and that’s all he needed to know. Xavier kept his head down and ran toward the stairwell on his left.
The adrenaline was flowing and he was moving faster than he’d ever run before. Xavier was up the first flight when Tall and Husky started talking to him.
“You can only run so far, boy,” he said in a low and creepy voice.
Xavier leapt forward, taking three steps at a time until he managed to run through the doors leading to the fourth floor. Halfway down the hallway, Xavier looked back to see if the hit man was still behind him when—BAM!—he ran smack into Doug. They both hit the floor hard.
Doug yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you, boy?!”
Xavier wasn’t saying anything. He was trying to get up and move out but Doug had him around the waist.
“Xavier!” Doug screamed, trying to calm him down.
Two more security guards had heard their boss scream and came running. Xavier was a handful and appeared to have lost his mind. He was in fight-or-flight mode, tussling with all three men, still trying to run. A few seconds later the guards managed to restrain the teen.
Xavier was able to calm down and relay his harrowing experience with the hit man.
“There is no hit man behind you,” Doug said to Xavier.
None of them really believed Xavier’s story because no one heard any shots or saw anyone chasing after Xavier.
“Boy, get a hold of yourself,” said Doug. “Show us where the so-called hit man went off to.” Xavier couldn’t show any proof that he’d been chased.
“I swear,” said Xavier. “There was somebody behind me.”
Doug used his cell phone to call the police. After the phone call, he wearily shook his head. “I still think it was your imagination, Mr. Hunter. But all the same, when are you going to seriously consider switching schools?”
It was Monday, November 24th—five o’clock sharp. Xavier was sitting in front of the desk belonging to his hairy-forearmed parole officer, Oliver Meyer.
“Do you have any weapons on you?” Oliver asked Xavier in the same old uninterested, flat tone—his face buried behind stacks of paperwork.
“No, sir,” Xavier answered back with the same tone.
“Have you participated in the use or sale of illegal narcotics ?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you understand if I give you a drug test right now and you fail it, you would be in violation and would be forced to serve out the remainder of your time in juvie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep your nose clean, Mr. Hunter, and you have no problems. Your next meeting with me will be”—he finally lifted his face out of the paperwork to flip the pages on his desk calendar—“Monday, February 25th. At five o’clock. If you miss this appointment for whatever reasons, you, Mr. Hunter, will be in violation of your probation and will be forced to serve out the remainder of your time in a juvenile facility.” Oliver sternly looked at Xavier. “Do you understand everything that we’ve gone over?”
“Yes, sir.”
14
MONDAY, DECEMBER 22
1:20 P.M.
The last day of school before Christmas break found Xavier sitting quietly at his desk in Ms. Scott’s English class. It had been a little over a month since Xavier’s harrowing experience with the hit man wearing the Rocawear hoodie. To avoid mass panic at Coleman, the police, along with Doug’s security force, had managed to keep the incident involving Xavier on the hush-hush because there hadn’t been any other staff or students present in the building at the time. And for his own safety, the police had advised Xavier to keep his mouth closed. At least until the hit man had been apprehended.
All of Xavier’s pleading with Doug to not involve Noah had paid off. Xavier had persuaded Doug to call Billy instead.
Doug understood that not contacting the boy’s father was wrong, but something was seriously going on in Xavier’s household. Until he could figure it out, Doug got in touch with Billy. Billy’s instinct was to come up to the school, find whoever was trying to off his little protégé and go all Vietnam on him. It had been hard to restrain Billy, but somehow Xavier had convinced the old man that he had things under control.
The last thirty minutes of class had been devoted to a short pop quiz on Huck Finn. Xavier was trying hard to focus, but Heather was aggravating him by lightly kicking the right back leg of his desk. Though the two hadn’t spoken since their last encounter, the tension around them was escalating.
“Can you please stop tapping my desk with your foot?” Xavier was straight up with it.
Heather disregarded his question and got personal. “I don’t care about this test, Hunter. Why did you stop talking to me?”
Xavier looked around. His fellow classmates were looking and now Ms. Scott was staring in their direction.
But Xavier still tried to whisper. “This classroom ain’t big enough for this personal crap.”
“Is there a problem, Heather and Xavier?” Ms. Scott asked, rising from her desk. She began walking toward them. “Because if there is one, you two can discuss it with the principal.”
Heather ignored the teacher as if Ms. Scott were invisible. “I’m not good enough for you anymore—is that it, Hunter?”
A dark girl sitting in the first desk of the last row said, “Yeah. Go ahead, Xavier. Heather wants to know why she is not good enough for you anymore.”
“Sherry Wilson,” Ms. Scott said to the dark-skinned girl, “I can also send you to Principal Skinner as well.”
“Nah, Ms. Scott, you can keep that action,” Sherry said.
Ms. Scott said, “Ms. Larkin, please close your mouth and finish the quiz. Being that it’s almost Christmas, take my generous offer as an early Christmas gift. I have a no-tolerance policy for students talking while taking an exam.”
Heather turned on her teacher. “You can take your policy and stuff that ish. I think you know where.” She turned back to Xavier. “What did I do that was so foul that you had to stop talking to me?”
Ms. Scott had had enough. “Ms. Larkin, get your things and leave this minute. Tell the principal that I will be down after class is over.”
Some type of switch flipped inside Heather’s head. With her right forearm the chick violently cleared her desktop of its contents, sending ink pen and the quiz paper flying through the air. She popped up from her desk like toast from a toaster.
“Do you think I’m afraid of that old fool?” Heather growled at the teacher.
Xavier told Heather, “You need to calm yourself down!”
She screamed and stuck an index finger in his face. “I don’t remember your name being on my birth certificate! Did I tell you what would happen if you ever tried to play me?!”
It just got real.
Xavier slapped her finger out of his face and rose from his seat. “I wish you would.” He looked at Ms. Scott. “You better get this girl before I
do something I might regret !”
The size difference between Heather and Xavier was ridiculous. The girl wouldn’t have a chance.
Ms. Scott yelled, “Heather Larkin, get out, right now!”
Tears started to flow as Heather looked around like she was helpless. “I told you what would happen.”
“Now, Ms. Larkin!” yelled Ms. Scott.
Heather was at the door and looked at Xavier with angry eyes. “I told you what would happen,” she repeated in a flat tone. “Seriously, I told you what would happen.” She ran out of the classroom.
Xavier was at his hall locker after his seventh-period art appreciation class, putting up his books. With what he had going on at school, he was looking forward to the holiday vacation, even if it meant putting up with Noah for two weeks. He had to keep it real: Noah was a little over-the-top with the Holy Bible, but his father wasn’t the one chasing him around the school, trying to kill him.
Xavier was still tripping out on Heather, though. She was nuts and there was no figuring her out. But he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t a psychiatrist. Heather was mentally out there on a planet that hadn’t been discovered. The girl was nuts and that was all there was to it.
“Ho, ho, ho,” Dex said, doing his very best Santa impression. He and Marissa walked up to Xavier. Both were wearing Santa hats and decked out in festive Christmasy colors. And as usual, everything fit Dex like a glove.
Xavier asked, “Who in the hell are y’all supposed to be, the broke edition of Jay-Z and Beyoncé Claus?”
Dex said, “I knew there was a reason why I love you, my brotha from another mother. It’s the way jealousy oozes from your mouth when you see somebody else shining.” With his hands held high over his head, Dexter turned to the students in the hallway and shouted in a joking fashion, “I’m the best-dressed dude walking the hallways of this infernal high school, you dig?”
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