The Reason Why

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Pam rolled her eyes and stepped inside. Erik laughed and followed her in.

  “So, when we consider what is ‘normal’ or what is ‘abnormal,’ we have to evaluate the standards in regards to accepted and rejected, or ‘taboo,’ behavior. Understand that African tribes operate at a completely different level of behavioral standards than—” The professor was cut off abruptly by a series of rapid beeps, signaling that class was over.

  “Eesh, already? All right folks, remember that our exam review is next Wednesday, and don’t forget that your research papers are due Monday. Oh, and I won’t be in my office tomorrow. I have a seminar to attend. See you next week!”

  Pam collected her things and walked out of the lecture hall. “Hey, what did you think about that lecture?” Erik asked, trailing behind her. “I think he was on point about what’s considered normal versus abnormal. The rituals in other countries that are considered customs are barbaric and—”

  “What are you saying?” Pam asked, continuing to walk.

  “You weren’t listening? Girl, you trippin’. Hey wait up! How could you not pay attention to that mind-blowing shit?” he asked sarcastically.

  Pam laughed and slowed down a bit so Erik could match her pace. The stream of students that burst through the building’s front doors were met with a fierce wind.

  “Where you goin’ next?”

  “My dorm room.” Pam kept walking.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Erik offered, hunching his shoulders against the cold.

  Pam stopped and turned toward him, shielding half her face from the wind with her scarf. “Look, Erik, I know what you’re doing, but I have a man.”

  Erik looked at Pam, threw his hands up, and smiled. “Hey, I’m just tryin’ to make new friends. No harm intended.”

  Pam tilted her head to the side to evaluate his personality. Erik looked away and back at Pam.

  “Hey, why don’t we get together and study for this damn test?” he asked her. “You know you’ll be needing some help because you didn’t hear a thing dude said the entire hour.”

  Pam laughed and thought for a second. He was right. She knew her grades were about to go down the shitter, and agreeing to a study session would at least make her feel obligated to hit the books.

  “You know what?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need all the help I can get at this point,” Pam answered. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 8

  Straight Ballin’

  “Face, nigga!” Chino shouted, as he swooshed the ball into the basketball net.

  “Fouling-ass nigga!” Rock shouted.

  “That wasn’t no foul!” Chino shouted back. “Quit crying. You doing all the crying, what the baby gonna do?”

  “C’mon, let’s school these niggas!” Rock shouted.

  Chino, Fabian, Infa, and Chris J were on one team, while Rock, Ant, Corey, and Joe Bub Baby were on the other. They were playing their weekly Saturday afternoon basketball game on the neighborhood court. All of the hood gathered at the court on the weekend and balled, or lounged at the park. Everyone had their whips shined to perfection, while the young ladies wore their latest outfits and had their hairdos in the latest style. Pam and Tomiko sat in the stands watching.

  “Pass the rock!” Joe Bub shouted, clapping his hands. Rock passed him the basketball, and Joe Bub pulled up and made a three-pointer. “Face, niggas!”

  Joe Bub Baby was six feet tall, heavyset, and the spitting image of Gerald Levert. In fact, Joe Bub swore that he could sing like the megastar. He walked around constantly singing “Casanova” and other Levert hits. He was a dope boy who swore he was an R&B singer, and even went so far as to spend his drug proceeds on studio time, professional production, and R&B tracks.

  “That ain’t shit!” Infa told him, while dribbling the basketball back down the court. Infa was one of Chino’s main men. Half black and half Panamanian, he was fluent in Spanish and English. He got his looks from his Panamanian mother. He had her curly jet black hair, light brown skin, brown freckles, and brown eyes. He also had her hot Latin temper. Infa carried his father’s full lips, full nose, and athletic build. He was the Latin lover in the crew. He could charm the socks off a nun.

  Chris J pointed toward the net, and Infa tossed the ball up toward the basket. Chris J snatched the ball in midair and slam-dunked it over Ant and Corey. The crowd went wild.

  “Face that, niggas!” Chris J said, laughing and jogging back down the court. Chris J was the b-boy in the crew. He was six-four and could ball but was known as a b-boy because he could b-bop, and breakdance like no other back in the day. Spin on his head, windmill, eggroll, fourplex, 360, handstand, poplock, you name it, he could do it. He idolized the New York City Breakers and the Rock Steady Crew. When he was a kid, he had a life-sized poster of Crazy Legs thumbtacked to his wall. Chris J could also name every rapper, rap group, and rap song that ever existed. He was do or die true to hip hop.

  Ant ran down the court and clapped his hands. Rock passed him the basketball. Ant turned to pass it to an open Corey, but Chino jumped into the passing lane and stole the ball. He tossed the ball to Fabian, who was racing down the court. Fabian passed it to Infa, who passed it to Chris J, who threw it to a trailing Chino for another slam dunk.

  “Wheeew!” Chino shouted. He pounded his chest and turned toward Pam. “That was for you, baby!”

  “I see you, baby!” Pam shouted back. She blew Chino a kiss.

  “This is for you, baby!” Ant shouted to Tomiko. Ant was the pretty boy in the clique. He was six-one, with emerald green eyes, high yellow skin, and low-cut, wavy hair. He could have been a model under other circumstances, but he had been born in the hood.

  Tomiko held up her hand, giving him her palm. “I don’t even think so!”

  “Girl, he’s cute!” Pam whispered.

  “He’s too cute,” Tomiko told her. “He probably has about twenty bitches that he fucks with on a regular basis.”

  “That don’t mean that you can’t make him yours,” Pam said.

  “That statement right there gives up your age, girl,” Tomiko said. “Guys like that can’t be changed or tamed, they are just gonna be whores their whole life, until they grow old. Then they want to settle down.”

  Rock pulled up, and the ball clanked off the front of the rim. Chris J got the rebound and passed the ball to Fabian, who dribbled downcourt.

  “Game point!” Infa shouted.

  “We make this, it’s over!” Chino told them.

  “Man up!” Rock shouted to his team. Rock was known for his ludicrous basketball skills and he could handle the ball like no other. He was the Michael Jordan of Columbus. He had been one of those kids that everyone just knew was heading to the NBA. But somehow, like most of those hood superstars, Rock had fallen victim to the glamour of street life instead of paying his dues on a college basketball team. Rock got his name from being able to cook dope like he was Chef Boyardee. He could take a mayonnaise jar, an ounce of cocaine, an ounce of baking soda, and some water, and get back two ounces of crack. His cooking skills were legendary in the streets of Columbus, and throughout much of Ohio for that matter.

  “Defense, y’all!” Joe Bub shouted. “Don’t let ’em score!”

  Fabian passed the ball to Chino, who threw it to Chris J, who immediately swung it round to Infa. Infa drove toward the net, and everyone collapsed on him. He tossed the ball to Chris J, who drew a triple team. Chris J then found Chino and he immediately swung the ball out to Fabian, who had set up in the corner for a three-pointer. Fabian shot the ball and hit nothing but net.

  “It’s over!” Chino shouted, throwing his hands up. “It’s over!”

  “Champions, baby!” Infa shouted.

  “You niggas can’t fade us!” Chris J shouted. “I’m a beast boy!”

  Chino raced into the stands, up the bleachers to where Pam was seated. He leaned in trying to get a kiss, but Pam pushed him away.

  “Boy, you’re all sw
eaty!” Pam shouted.

  “A little bit of your man’s sweat ain’t gonna kill you.”

  “Yes, it will!” Pam said, continuing to push Chino away.

  “Peep game, y’all!” Infa shouted.

  Chino turned to see what Infa was talking about. His crew on the court was staring at the adjacent street. There he noticed a black GMC Jimmy was slowly creeping past the park. Suddenly several weapons came out of the window.

  “Get down!” Ant shouted.

  Gunfire erupted and sparks flew off the asphalt court and the metal bleachers. Chino shoved Pam down and dove on top of her, shielding her body with his own. With his other arm, he pulled Tomiko down as well.

  “Stay down, baby!” he whispered to Pam.

  The loud pop of gunfire rang out for several moments before the screeching of the Jimmy’s tires. They were gone.

  Total silence.

  Then tears.

  Screams and people running.

  “Are you all right?” Chino asked, removing his body from hers, all the while protecting her from the chaos.

  Pam was able to produce a nod through hysterical tears.

  Helping Pam up, he looked at Tomiko. “Are you okay?” Chino extended a hand toward her too.

  Grabbing Chino’s hand, nervously she answered, “Yeah, I’m all right.”

  Infa ran over. “Anybody hit?”

  “Them hoes can’t even shoot straight!” Rock said, dusting himself off.

  “Who was that?” Corey asked, looking spooked. Corey was the nerdy one in the crew. He was a good kid who desperately wanted to live the street life. He hung around Chino and the rest of the fellas for excitement and acceptance. They knew he was perpetrating; however, Corey was cool. Although he wanted their life, if they could have traded theirs with his, the crew would have given their right arm to do it. “That was them Cleveland niggas!” Chris J exclaimed. “I seen them at the club the other night.”

  Pam stared at Chino with a tear-streaked face and spoke angrily. “I want to go home!”

  “All right, baby girl. Just checkin’ out my boys here, then we can burn out.”

  “Now!” Pam screamed.

  “Okay, baby,” Chino said, holding up his hands to calm her down, “c’mon.”

  “Chino, did you know those people? Why were they shooting at us?” Pam questioned.

  “They were just tripping.”

  Chino pulled Pam close, to calm her shaking body.

  “Baby, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered into her ear. Kissing the top of Pam’s head, he held her.

  Pam hugged him tightly. “Promise me, Chino.”

  “I promise you, Pammy. I’ll give my life to keep you safe.”

  Looking into his eyes, Pam believed him. “I know you will,” she told him, thinking about how he had thrown his body on top of hers to keep her safe. His safety wasn’t an issue, hers was. If I stay with him, how many more times will I get shot at? she thought to herself. What else will happen next time? Next time . . . Pam pondered.

  She looked at Chino and a pang of hurt crossed her heart at the thought of not seeing him again. Quickly, she brought herself back to reality and erased the thought of him not being around out of her mind.

  Pam knew that Chino was a baller and with the lifestyle came risks; risks she was willing to take because she knew that he would protect her or die trying.

  Chapter 9

  Forever True

  “Aaaaaaaaaaah!” Pam screamed at the top of her lungs as the Ferris wheel spun through the air.

  Pam had not been the same since the shooting. She stayed close to home, in the safety of her dorm room. Regardless of how much Chino urged, she had refused to go out. After a few days of chilling in Pam’s dorm room, Chino knew that he had to do something to get her mind off what happened and back into the swing of things.

  Chino watched Pam smile and laugh. He wanted to make sure that she was enjoying herself and having a great time. He was truly catching feelings for Pam. He had never fallen for a girl so quick. He felt close to her. He felt like he could trust her. She was young, and naive, and new, and she was completely different from the hood rats that he was used to dating. Pam showed him that the world could be different. She was proof that there was a better world out there.

  “You having fun?” Chino asked.

  Pam nodded. “A lot.”

  The ride came to a stop, and Chino helped Pam out of her seat. The two of them began to stroll through the amusement park. Chino clasped her hand and felt her shiver.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Pam rubbed her arms. “It’s a little cold out here.”

  Chino pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her.

  “No,” Pam protested, “you’ll be cold.”

  Chino shrugged. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Thank you,” Pam said. They walked for a few moments and Pam stopped to look at Chino. “Is it going to always be like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Are you always going to be my knight in shining armor? Are you always going to come to my rescue?”

  Chino laughed and nodded. “Always. Just call me Sir Chino, Duke of Columbus.”

  Pam laughed. “And what would that make me?”

  “Lady Pam, the Duchess of Detroit.”

  “Oh, a royal marriage, huh?”

  Chino pulled her close. “I didn’t want to tell you at first, but this whole thing was arranged. I paid your father a bride price.”

  “Oh, really? And how much did I cost you?”

  “Three chickens, two cows, two goats, and my favorite bull.”

  “Damn, that’s a high price for a bride.”

  “You’re African? Damn, I thought I was getting an Asian chick.”

  Pam nudged Chino in his side and the two of them laughed. They walked for a bit without talking.

  Chino finally spoke. “Pam, what is it you want to do? You know, like really do. What are you in college for, anyway?”

  Pam thought for a moment. “Well, I’m a business major. I’ve always pictured myself running something. My mom always said I was an entrepreneur. I had lemonade stands every summer, all summer long growin’ up.” Pam paused and laughed to herself. “I didn’t even care about going to the pool or playing in the sprinklers. I was out there stackin’ quarters!”

  “Nickelin’ and dimin’ at an early age. I knew you were the one for me!” Chino bent over laughing, and Pam joined in.

  “You know it!” she exclaimed.

  Chino sucked in his breath. “If you had to run something starting now, a business, what would it be?”

  “Hmm . . .” Pam considered her options. Two children burst suddenly between them, yelling excitedly about their next ride. A frustrated mother trailed behind them, carrying coats and cotton candy.

  “Excuse me,” she said as she passed through the couple.

  Pam smiled at the woman and watched as she caught up with her children, calling after them, telling them not to go too far.

  “A salon,” Pam said finally.

  “You wanna do hair for a living?” His eyebrows were raised. “My woman gets her hair and nails done. She ain’t gone be standin’ behind no one’s back, pampering them!”

  “Chino!” Pam swatted his shoulder. “I want to run the place. That’s a whole lot different than shampooing!”

  They came upon a booth with a shooting gallery. Chino guided her toward it.

  “It’s time for the general to do his thing!”

  “What?”

  “It’s time for me to show off my shooting skills,” Chino told her. “You don’t get to be a general without being able to bust some ass.”

  Pam laughed. “You have too many titles for me.”

  “I was a general, then I conquered Ohio and became the Duke of Columbus,” Chino explained.

  “And a very active imagination,” Pam continued.

  Chino lifted the rifle. “How much?”

  “Five ticket
s,” the booth operator told him.

  Chino pulled a wad of tickets out of his pocket, tore off five of them, and handed them to the operator.

  “You shoot ten ducks, you get to pick from these stuffed animals,” the operator explained. “You shoot twenty, you get to pick from these.” He pointed to another group of stuffed animals. “You shoot thirty, you get to pick from these. Forty will get you anything on the top rack, and fifty you get to pick from over there behind that case.”

  “What’s the catch?” Pam asked.

  “You only have five misses,” the operator told them. “Miss five times, and it’s over, the gun cuts off.”

  Chino peered through the sights of the electronic rifle and took aim. He waited for the first of the tiny automated ducks to roll by and then began to squeeze the trigger. Duck after duck quacked and fell to its side.

  “Go, baby, go!” Pam clapped enthusiastically.

  Chino continued to shoot, nearly earning a perfect score. He shot forty-eight ducks before the gun cut off on his fifth miss. Pam jumped up and down.

  “How many did I get?” Chino asked.

  “A whole helluva lot,” the operator told him. “I’ll count the tickets up for you.”

  “Which one you want?” Chino asked.

  Pam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “How about that big-ass Winnie the Pooh bear over there?” Chino said to Pam, pointing.

  “Yeah, that’s a nice one.”

  “Yo, give me that Winnie the Pooh,” Chino told the operator.

  “Sorry, you needed fifty for that one.”

  “Damn, how many did I get?”

  “You got forty-eight.”

  Chino reached into his pocket and pulled out some more tickets. Pam stopped him.

  “That’s okay, you don’t have to do it again.”

  “You sure?”

  Pam nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go ride some more rides.”

  “Well, what does forty-eight hits get me?” Chino asked, determined to win Pam an animal.

  “You can have pretty much anything, except the stuffed Winnie.”