No Take Backs

by Otis Hanby

  I take the glass, expecting a similar experience, minus me running to the sink to rinse my mouth out. I shoot the bourbon back and reach for my beer. My throat does burn, but I chase it with cold beer. I set the can down and feel the warmth of the bourbon go to my stomach and light another cigarette.

  “There you go. I knew you were cool,” Matt says, lighting a cigarette of his own.

  I down most of my beer. Matt takes the shot glass and fills it again. After he downs it, he fills it and pushes it to me.

  “Go ahead and take another shot. We’ll take a break after,” Matt says.

  “I’m going to need another beer,” I say, not really wanting or needing another one. I’m feeling buzzed already, but I need something to keep the bourbon from burning my throat.

  “Okay, hold on a sec. I’ll get a couple more,” Matt says, going to the kitchen.

  Erica turns and begins kissing me. We kiss until I hear the cans hit the table.

  “Man, I can really taste the alcohol,” Erica says, making a smacking noise with her mouth.

  I eye the shot glass, not wanting to take it. Reluctantly, I pick it up and hold it in front of my face. I close my eyes and bring the liquor to my lips. I shoot the bourbon back fast and snatch my beer, taking a couple of big swallows. In my haste, I spill some on my shirt.

  “You got a hole in your lip or what?” Matt asks, laughing and pointing at me.

  He seems to be a little farther away from me than I remembered, and my depth perception is becoming affected more than I would like. I stand up, suddenly feeling the need to urinate. The room feels unstable. I almost fall back down onto the couch, but I catch myself, and Erica grabs my other arm to steady me.

  “I need to use your bathroom,” I say.

  “Come on. I’ll show you where it’s at,” Erica says, getting up and pulling me by the arm.

  The effort of walking seems almost too much for me. My body keeps moving, but my mind doesn’t want to cooperate. Erica turns on the light in the bathroom.

  “Here you go,” she says, smiling.

  She kisses me and pulls me closer to her. I’m willing to go along with whatever she wants as the alcohol is making me numb. Erica lets me go and hits me on the ass as I stagger into the bathroom. I close the door and look in the mirror at my bloodshot eyes. My face looks droopy, and I feel very drunk. I don’t like it and wish I knew how long I was going to feel like this. I know I’m going to have to hide when I get home if I’m still drunk.

  After using the bathroom, I wash my hands and go back into the living room. I hear the doorbell ring and see Erica going to the door. Matt isn’t in the living room anymore. I figure he’s feeling drunk like me and has gone to sleep it off. Erica opens the door, and Rodney walks in.

  “Hey man! We gotta go if your riding with me,” Rodney says impatiently.

  “Alright.” I make my way to the door.

  Erica takes me by the hand and walks me outside to Rodney’s car. Leann and Marcy are standing in the front yard smoking. Braydon and Greg are sitting on the hood of Rodney’s car. As I walk towards the car, I see some white guy dressed like a wanna-be-gangster across the street. He’s staring at me, or at least I think he is. I’m feeling pretty cocky, so I yell, “Hey bitch! What the hell are you staring at?”

  He stops, and this time I know he’s staring at me. He doesn’t say anything, but just stands there, staring hard. There’s something that bothers me about the way he looks. He’s dressed like someone from a rap video or a poser from a boy band trying to look tough. Rodney’s standing next to me ready to do something if this guy makes a move. But he just turns around and walks off.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought!” I yell one more time.

  “Come on, you drunk-ass,” Rodney says, pulling me to the rear of his car. Rodney opens the trunk and says, “You’re gonna have to ride in the trunk, man. I can’t have you puking in my car.”

  “Ah, come on, man. I’m not gonna puke in your car,” I say, not really caring where I ride.

  “There’s no more room anyway. Just get in so we can get home,” Rodney says.

  Not wanting to argue, and just wanting to lie down and be still, I get into the trunk. I look up and see Erica smiling down at me.

  “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Erica says.

  “I love you too,” I say as Rodney’s closing the trunk on me. I hear him laughing and saying something I can’t make out. Then I hear the engine start.

  Someone yells, “Hey! You want some music back there?”

  I just lie there in the dark feeling sick and full of regret. Classical music fills the trunk at an ear-splitting volume. Rodney is very proud of his sound system. I begin hitting the back of the seat, yelling for them to turn it down, but they ignore me and laugh as the car starts to move. I bang for a good five minutes before giving up. I’m suddenly feeling sick, and I gather myself into a fetal position, wanting to be home. After what seems an eternity, I sense the car pull to a stop. The music goes off, and I hear a car door shut. The trunk of the car pops open, and I see Rodney standing over me, smiling his crooked smile.

  “You’re home. You can thank me tomorrow when you’re sober. You better go hang out in your room for the rest of the night so your parents won’t know you’ve been drinking.”

  “Yeah, I feel like crap anyway. Fuck you for putting me in the trunk,” I say, only half joking.

  “See you tomorrow,” Rodney says, getting back into his car and driving off.

  I stumble up to my house. I open the front door and am relieved to see that nobody’s home. I go to my room and fall face first onto my bed. The place is spinning, and I don’t bother to take off my shoes or anything. I just lie there, begging sleep to overtake me.

  ***

  My stepmother comes into the room without me hearing her. I’m sleeping pretty heavily, and she has a hell of a time waking me. I can feel her hand squeezing my arm and shaking me. I open my eyes and just see her blurry silhouette. I know it’s her by her rough mannerisms and stale cigarette smoke on her breath.

  “Wake up, Corey! You didn’t clean the house up like I told you to do. Now get your ass out of bed and get this house spotless.”

  “I don’t feel good, Mom. Can I do it tomorrow?” I ask, feeling the effects of my hangover.

  “No. You’ll get up now, young man, and do as I tell you.”

  “Okay,” I say, sitting up and trying not to show my annoyance. I don’t want to trigger her venomous anger.

  My head is killing me, not to mention I’m dizzy and just feeling lousy. I walk out of my bedroom with my stepmom trailing behind me. I stumble into the kitchen and begin filling the sink with soapy water. I feel my stepmom standing behind me. I wipe the counter with a dishrag, but without enthusiasm.

  “I don’t know what you’ve been up to today, but I can smell it all over your breath. You look like shit, and I can tell you probably feel like it too. You don’t go back to bed until you get this house spotless. You just better be glad your father is in our room so he can’t see what state you’re in. I mean it. You’ll have this house spotless before you go to bed.” My stepmom delivers this little tirade with her arms crossed.

  I know when not to cross her, and this is definitely one of those times. She’s actually going easy on me. I’m surprised that she’s just making me clean the house. I guess doing chores in my current condition is punishment enough.

  I don’t know what time I actually finish cleaning, but I do know that I’m long overdue for sleep. After throwing up in the toilet, I brush my teeth and collapse into bed.

  The next morning, I vaguely remember cleaning the night before. I must have done an okay job because my stepmom hasn’t paid me a visit. Instead, my dad is quietly nudging me awake. After I get ready, my parents take me to the bus depot as they do every morning, and we ride in silence the whole way, minus the radio. My stepmom looks mad still, but she always looks irritated this early in the morning. My dad is listening to the n
ews in neutral silence. They drop me off without a goodbye. I watch my parents drive away, and when I’m sure they’re out of sight, I pull out a cigarette and smoke it before boarding the bus. It sure is cold. I can’t tell if what I’m exhaling is smoke or mist.

  Chapter Seven

  I arrive at school earlier than most kids since I take the bus at the time my parents have to get off to work. Today, I kneel down and open my locker. The halls are pretty quiet, and I sense someone standing over me. I let go of my English book and look up over my shoulder. Standing over me is a large, fat, black kid.

  “You some kind of racist? You a skinhead or something?”

  “Huh?” I give him an annoyed look.

  “I said is you some kind of skinhead?”

  Agitated, I begin to stand up to face my adversary, but the fat kid puts his knee in my back, forcing me to fall forward.

  “What the fuck!” I catch myself before slamming into the locker.

  “You gotta hearing problem, Cracka?”

  I’m getting really angry. I turn fast and push the kid’s leg away and get into his face. “What is your problem man?” I ask.

  “You’re my problem, you skinhead faggot!” the fat kid says, shoving his face even closer to mine.

  “Fuck you, fat ass!” I say and push him hard. He’s twice my weight, and he barely moves when I shove him. He pushes me back, and I slam into the lockers behind me. I go to shove him again, but he catches me in a headlock. I forcefully pry my head free and feel my ears burn as they rub against his arm. The kid raises his fists and begins bouncing on his back leg. I put my guard up and wait for the first punch to fly when a door down the hall opens. A teacher emerges and attempts to close the door with his leg because his arms are full. The fat kid drops his hands and looks in the direction of the teacher and then back at me.

  “This ain’t over, Cracka,” he says and flinches at me. I give him a laugh to try and mask my nervousness. As he walks off, my leg begins trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline. I pick my book up from the floor and head outside to the back of the school to wait for Rodney. Erica’s starting this morning, and I wonder when and where I’ll see her.

  As I walk outside, I see that Rodney’s already parked. He’s just getting out of his car as I approach. He reaches into the back seat and pulls out his school books. He looks over and says, “What’s up?”

  “Not much. I just had a run in with this black kid. I think he’s in our P.E. class. He called me a skinhead. He tried pushing me around and shit, but I stood my ground. He said it ‘wasn’t over.’”

  “You do kind of look like a skinhead.”

  “I don’t dress like them.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You got a target on your head now. Fuck everybody and what they think. Now let’s go find your girlfriend and the rest of the girls.”

  “Yeah okay,” I say, feeling a little better.

  We enter the school and make our way down the halls. We arrive at Rodney’s locker, and I can see Leann, Marcy, and Erica down the hall, walking towards us. Something looks different about Erica. She comes up to me and kisses me. As she pulls away, I see that her hair is different. It’s short, almost like a buzz cut, except her bangs. It looks kind of like Byron’s haircut, actually.

  “You like it?” Erica asks.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty cool,” I say. It suits her.

  “Do you really like it?” she asks, not convinced I’m telling the truth.

  “Yes! Would you believe me if I told you this way?” I kiss her passionately.

  As I’m kissing her, I hear a girl ask her boyfriend, “Why don’t you ever kiss me like that?” I look up and see the girl hit her boyfriend teasingly with the back of her hand. He flinches away and laughs as the first bell rings.

  “Where’s your first class?” I ask Erica.

  She’s in ninth grade, and I’m in tenth. I’m hoping her class is close to mine.

  “I have English.”

  “Oh cool. I’ll walk you to your first class then. I have Journalism then English. It’s on the other side of the school and upstairs. I’ll show you,” I say, taking her hand.

  The halls are getting full. We’re literally shoulder to shoulder with everyone at this point. As we weave our way through the crowd, I see a black kid about twenty yards in front of us hitting his shoulder against everybody that passes him. Girl or guy doesn’t seem to matter to him. He’s continues slamming into people one-by-one. I try to warn Erica, but she’s gotten ahead of me, and it’s too loud from all the kids in the hall. She doesn’t see him, and he hits her shoulder with his, hard, and knocks her to the side. I hear her say, “You fucking dick!” as he passes her and makes his way at me. Rage fills me as I prepare for the impact. I’m not going to let this guy push my girlfriend around. As he gets closer, I tense my body so that I can give him a taste of his own medicine. His shoulder hits mine, but my anger is burning hot. He doesn’t budge me. Instead, I slam into his shoulder so hard he spins into another guy—a football player, judging from his size.

  “Hey, you motherfucker! Watch where the hell you’re going!” the big guy yells and shoves him away. The black kid never looks at him but keeps staring at me. I glare back for a brief moment before I continue down the hall. He’s soon out of sight.

  Erica pulls me in for a hug as we arrive outside of her class. She gives me one last kiss and tells me to be careful. I say to her that I will. She goes into her class and sits at her desk. I can’t help but feel tense. Two crazy incidents happen in the span of a half an hour. Besides, a dark feeling is creeping into my chest. It doesn’t feel like it’s directly related to the events of the morning, although those certainly don’t help. I look at Erica through the doorway for just a second longer. She’s already opening her English book. I turn and walk away with a cold and empty feeling. Where is this coming from?

  ***

  The bell rings after second period, and I make my way into the halls to go to the Commons. I think I might buy a soda and meet up with Rodney. I haven’t seen Erica between classes, and I assume that it’ll probably be lunch before I see her. I’m wondering what she’s up to when I see Darren and Rodney talking in the Commons. Chad and Tyler walk up from the other side.

  “What’s up?” I ask everybody.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Chad asks. Tyler just nods his head.

  “Corey. Isn’t your girlfriend going to school here?” Darren asks.

  “Yeah. I don’t know where she is right now, though. You can meet her at lunch.”

  “I already met her. She seems pretty cool,” Darren says as he stumbles forward inexplicably.

  I jump back a little to avoid getting bumped, then notice there are small arms around his waist with hands displaying black painted fingernails. Brigette peeks around Darren’s side. She’s smiling wide and looks at me for a second before turning all her attention to Darren.

  “What the fuck?” Darren sounds a little annoyed.

  “Shut up. You’re not hurt,” Brigette says, snuggling closer to him.

  “I could break your neck the way you’re positioned,” Darren says.

  “Yeah, but who would sleep with your sorry ass then?” Brigette asks, not even fazed.

  “Guess I would just have to jerk off.” Darren doesn’t skip a beat either.

  That’s how the two of them talk to each other. I don’t really get it. For them to be in as much love as they appear to be, it’s weird to see them teasing each other so hard.

  “Can you go get me a coke?” Brigette asks Darren, pushing her bottom lip out pathetically. This is also weird because Brigette’s tough, not cute.

  “Yeah. If you let go of me,” Darren says. She lets him go, and they give each other a kiss.

  Darren walks off to get her a coke, and Brigette turns to face me.

  “How do you get to school?” she asks me.

  “I ride the city bus,” I tell her.

  “You live just a few blocks from me, and I can give you rides in t
he mornings if you want. My mom takes me to school, and we could pick you up. But you’d have to find your own way home. I ride the school bus home.”

  Brigette is an honor student and chose to go to Garland High, rather than South Garland, because of an academic program that’s offered here. Honor students can go to whatever school they want. If you’re just an average student like me, you have to go to the school closest to where you live. I don’t know how it worked out that I was allowed to stay at Garland High.

  “That’s cool. Rodney gives me a ride home anyway. When could I start riding with you?” I ask her.

  “We’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

  “Hey, guys did you hear about that chick they kicked out of school today?” Chad breaks in.

  “No. Who was it?” Rodney asks.

  “I don’t know who she was, but she came in dressed in all black, wearing some robe thing with a hood. I heard she was pretty weird looking. Like she was in a trance or something. And she was carrying this big black bag. I guess the principal asked her what was inside it and she told him it was none of his fucking business. The principal got pissed and made her give up the bag. She handed it over, and he looked inside. There was a cat skull or something, and a bunch of animal bones and shit. The principle freaked out and kicked her out of school.”

  “I had that chick in one of my classes. She’s a witch or a Satanist or something,” Tyler says, smirking like he’s glad to have some insight.

  There have been a lot of rumors going around school about satanic activity lately. I always chalked it up to rumors before now.

  We’re all still commenting on it when a few kids suddenly bump into us. I look up. The students in the Commons are spreading out due to a fight. We all look in the direction of the coke machines and see Darren and a black kid facing each other in fighting stances. The black kid charges Darren, who kicks him hard in the stomach. The kid folds over, clutching his stomach. Darren drives his elbow down unto the back of his head. The black kid backs up, straightens up, and charges Darren again. Darren front kicks the kid in the stomach again, but this time he gets a hold of Darren’s leg and traps him. Darren drives his elbow in the kid’s head again, trying to keep his balance, and the black kid forces both of them onto the ground. Darren’s glasses are knocked off and go sliding across the floor. He’s on his back now, and the black kid straddles him. Brigette pushes her way into the crowd. The black kid hits Darren in the face, then pulls back for another swing, but Darren blocks the punch, knocking the kid off of him. Darren wraps his arm around the black kid’s head, putting him in a headlock. Darren’s punching with his free hand when one of the coaches grabs the black kid from behind. Darren’s hold on the kid breaks as the coach pulls him away, restraining the black kid’s arms. Darren gets up and charges anyway. He gets in several good hits even as the coach tries to keep the two of them separated. The principal comes up behind Darren and restrains him, but he doesn’t have an easy time of it. Darren’s trying to kick his way free. The coach finally yells, “Alright! That’s enough!” and carries the black kid off. Darren stops struggling, but the principal doesn’t let him go.