by Paula Chase
“Ioun even think Dom like basketball, for real. He a nerd,” he said, putting respect on the word. Dom was smart. Real smart.
He heard the frown in her voice. “Then he can be the water boy, Deontae. I don’t care.” The softness edged in and out. “Dre is good, though. The only reason he not on the team this year is because he failed fifth grade. When he get in middle school, I know Tez won’t sleep on his skills.”
Simp hated that his mother knew all that. How long had she been thinking about this?
His brain slow rolled over it all. He couldn’t take the facts apart and put them back together fast enough to respond the way he wanted to. Instead, he stared down into the toaster. The coils burned orange, mesmerizing him.
He knew his mother’s eyes were on him and he’d have to say something or do something. He was the man of the house.
I could say no, he thought.
Everybody wasn’t cut out to hustle. Dom wasn’t. But Dre . . . even Coach Tez thought he was ready. Maybe it was time. The reality of it cut into him.
“Deontae.”
His mother’s voice raked over his nerves, but snapped him out of what he’d been thinking.
Dre wasn’t ready. That’s what it was.
He flipped the toaster’s handle, forcing the toast up, snatched the bread, and joined her at the table. Her lips were pursed, ready to argue. He wanted to ask her why she was doing this. Wasn’t one of them in the game enough?
His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He grit his teeth against the anger tearing at his throat. There was shouting in his head, things he wanted to say to his mother. Instead, he slipped one piece of bacon off the plate. Broke it in half and laid it across the bread.
He waited for her to say something, but she played his game and stayed quiet.
He slipped another piece of bacon off the plate and placed it down. The bacon looked like soldiers, shoulder-to-shoulder. He put the other piece of bread on top. Sometimes he said grace before he ate. Sometimes he didn’t. He only knew one anyway—“God is great, God is good and we thank him for this food. Amen.”
He closed his eyes against his mother’s unblinking gaze. In another second she was going to blow. He felt it. Saw that her mouth was back to the tight line. He breathed slowly through his nose, letting it settle his heart. “Forgive me,” he whispered before saying the grace he’d learned at some vacation bible school a million years ago.
When he looked up, his mother’s face was tight but expectant. Then it was like she saw inside him, past his worries. She broke into a smile, gushing, “You a good boy. I know you gonna watch out for your brothers.”
He put the sandwich up to his mouth, put it back down. “I’m only gon’ get Dre on the team. Nobody got time to be watching over Dom.” He cleared his throat over the lump. “Somebody got watch Dee anyway while we at practice and shi . . . stuff.”
He doubted it would have mattered if he’d cussed. His mother had gotten what she wanted. She was on to the next, up and dumping the bacon grease into an empty can. “We worry about Dom later. We got time,” she said.
“We.”
Simp chewed slowly, trying his best to get the bacon down his gullet. It was like chewing on a shoe.
“We” was still on his mind as he got dressed later for his shift. He talked himself through all of the details.
Tryouts were in April. If Dom passed fifth grade, he’d make the team, period, ’cause he knew how to handle the rock. And whether Simp liked it or not, he couldn’t control how Tez used him off the court. All he could do was get Dre ready.
He burped up bacon as his stomach churned at the thought: He was really gonna put his little brother on.
He closed his eyes until the throbbing in his head dulled.
He had to do what he had to do. If anybody was going to hip his brother to the game, it had to be him. That’s what it was.
He was pulling his kicks on when his phone buzzed. He ignored it, figuring it was Rollie wondering where he was.
A black mark had the nerve to be on his clean white shoes. Time to give these to Dre, he thought, kicking the shoe off. He finally picked up the phone and grinned at the text from Chrissy.
Chriss-E: Hey. You up?
He answered—Yup—then went into his closet and grabbed a newish pair of kicks from one of the fifty boxes he had in order by style and color. Always J’s. Most of ’em basketball shoes from Tez, but he’d treated himself to a few dozen. Some hadn’t been worn yet.
He glanced down at the phone and his smile died.
Chriss-E: Is it true that you deal drugs?
Simp’s head reared back. Was shorty for real?
He took his time getting his shoes on as he fought the tight annoyance in his chest. He wrote a note on the box with the scuffed pair inside—Dre, don’t ever say I ain’t give u nothin—then dropped it inside the room his younger brothers shared.
He threw a woolie on his head and pulled it down to his ears as best as he could over his thick locs. His phone buzzed, a fury of back-to-back messages.
“I be back later,” he yelled to anyone who cared.
He took a few steps before stopping to check the messages.
Chriss-E: Hello?
Chriss-E: Not trying be in ur business. But . . . can u be real w/me?
Chriss-E: Can u call me at least? Chris kind of buggin’
Seeing Chris’s name got his fingers sliding across the phone, dialing her number. He met her breathless “Hello” with silence. “Hello,” she said again, sounding confused.
Simp couldn’t believe he was calling her about this. He looked up the street toward the rec center, half expecting Coach Tez to be standing watch over him. But the community was still quiet. Only a few people were out scurrying to their cars out of the cold. He forced his voice to sound unconcerned. “Yeah. What’s up?”
“You know what’s up,” she said, whispering.
“For real, I don’t though,” he said. He started a slow walk toward the mouth of the hood. It wasn’t as cold as it had been the week before, but he punched his free hand into his hoodie pocket, needing to do something with himself to stay under control. He opened and flexed his fist as she talked.
“I mean, can you answer my question,” she said.
“Ay, look, Iouno how they get down where y’all from, but you lunchin’ a lil’ bit,” Simp said, with as much patience as he could. His jaw shivered from holding it so tight. Coach Tez would flip if he knew he was talking about this and to some random shorty at that. He took the phone off his ear and deleted Chrissy’s text messages as her voice questioned him. Without even knowing what she’d said, he jumped back on, talking over her. “We cool, but you don’t know me like that.”
“I mean, but you not denying it, either,” she said.
He stamped out the guilt creeping up on him with advice from Coach Tez—Ain’t nothing bigger than the game. But people gon’ try convince you otherwise.
His grind wasn’t none of Chrissy’s business. The cold whipped at his face as he picked up speed. “First off, I ain’t saying nothing either way. All I’m saying is you don’t know me like that. You can’t just be asking people stuff like that.”
He could hear somebody in the background muffled like she had the phone far away from the sound. She spoke to the person then came back firm, like either she’d shut her door or was sure whoever had been there was gone.
“I wasn’t trying to make you mad. And I guess I probably shouldn’t have came at you like that,” she said.
He couldn’t help smiling, especially when she continued, “I can’t get an apology accepted?”
“I ain’t never hear I’m sorry,” he said, chuckling.
He looked around the quiet neighborhood, glad nobody was watching him be a straight sucker on the phone. Tez was always warning them against falling for the boo trap and letting a girl take them off their hustle. He’d never had that problem before and wasn’t trying get caught up over no shorty, but—her laugh in his e
ar felt good.
“I’m sorry I came off wrong,” Chrissy said.
The rickety wooden fence came into view. Rollie was already there, perched, his head down, looking at his phone. Simp stopped and pushed the conversation along. “It’s all right. I mean . . . it’s not. But we good.”
“Okay good. But look—Chris . . .” There was a loud breath on her end. “For some reason, Chris think you doing something, and he said now that you finished coaching me in Ping-Pong he don’t want me hang with you by myself anymore.”
Simp snorted. “What, he your father or something?”
“Sometimes he think so,” she said.
“Ay, I ain’t trying cause no sibling rivalry or whatever,” Simp said, laughing at his own dumb joke. “Just saying, what you want me do? If you want chill with me, then we can chill. But if your brother ain’t down with it and you rock wit’ it, then I rock wit it, too.”
Her answer was rushed and back to a whisper. “I don’t want to rock with it, though. Still, if you . . . you know—doing anything—then he said that’s just trouble.”
Simp was close to telling her how he felt about her brother, but that was between him and Chris. “All right, well, I gotta dip,” he said.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“For real, what you want me do?” he asked.
“Nothing, Deontae,” she said, finally. “Talk to you later.”
He said “all right” but she was already gone.
He jammed the phone into his hoodie pocket, gripping it hard enough to bite into his flesh. His stomach felt like it was full of hot nickels. He hawked and spit off to the side as he walked up to the fence.
Rollie put his hand out for dap.
Simp absently slapped his hand against Rollie’s twice and they gripped at the fingers. He climbed onto the fence next to him and let one, two, then three cars roll by before he turned to Rollie and said, “What you and Chris talk about after me and Chrissy left the other day?”
He stared into Rollie’s face, looking for a squint or frown. Rollie’s head ticked side to side. “We ain’t talk about nothing, really. He was too busy whipping up on me in Crown Battle.”
Simp worked hard to stop his whole body from clenching like a fist.
“Y’all ain’t talk at all?” he asked, looking out at the road. He listened for the lie.
“I ain’t saying we didn’t talk. Just saying we ain’t talk about nothing I remember,” Rollie said.
“So, you ain’t tell him me and you was in the game?” Simp asked. He popped off the fence and paced.
“There you go,” Rollie said, eyes rolling.
“There I go, what? You musta said something, son,” Simp said.
Rollie’s cheeks sucked in, out, then back in until he had fish lips. He gazed down the street, all the time shaking his head denying. He stepped down from the fence and stood face-to-face with Simp.
“That’s messed up, son,” he said.
“I’m saying . . . you musta said something,” Simp said, less convinced.
“Why?” Rollie asked. He looked to the left for a few seconds then his right, keeping watch as they spoke.
“’Cause Chrissy just called and asked me did I deal drugs,” Simp said.
“So that means I said something to Chris?” Rollie asked. He put his hands up in question. “For real, yo?”
“I ain’t stupid, Rollie. You musta said something,” Simp said. But he didn’t know anymore. Just like this morning, the conversation was moving too fast.
Simp wanted to apologize. Take it all back. He just wished he could be sure. He tried again.
“I’m saying, maybe you said something and Chris took it the wrong way,” Simp said.
Rollie climbed back onto the fence. He pulled his cap down until it covered his eyebrows. His head moved back and forth so slow Simp wondered if he was zoning to a beat.
“Look—” Simp started.
Rollie put his hand up. “Naw, it’s good. You said what you meant. I’m a rat.”
Simp joined him on the fence, desperate to take it all back. “Man, I ain’t say all that. If it’s a coincidence, my bad. But, son, she texted me that mess. It got me twisted. I just—”
“I said it’s good, son. Let it rock,” Rollie said.
Simp tried to make the vibe between them right. “How you just gonna text somebody something like that? I told her that’s not how we do over here.” He saw the slow nod of Rollie’s head from the side of his eye. “If Chris want know so bad, why he ain’t step to me?” His hollow chuckle was mean. “But he got good sense. Know what I’m saying?”
Rollie’s simple nod dried up the words wanting to stream out of Simp’s mouth.
They sat in the cold silence until Rollie stepped down.
“Look, I got do something for my grandmother. You good to finish without me?”
Already facing the direction that would take him home, he wasn’t asking for permission. Simp expected him to walk off with or without an answer. But Rollie stood there, looking off into the distance, waiting on Simp’s eventual nod. With a barely audible “cool,” he left Simp staring at his back.
Rollie
“So, what happened with you and Simp?”
Tai’s tinny voice nagged from the laptop speaker. She gazed straight into the cam, expecting an answer. He didn’t know the answer to give. Nothing “happened” between him and Simp. Nothing that he was going to tell her about anyway.
He hated that she acted like she was somebody’s mother, sometimes. He cast his eyes downward as his phone lit up with a message from Mila.
JahMeeLah: even if u leave the Cove it never lets u go. learned that the hard way last summer
Rollie couldn’t argue. He played drums at church and that hadn’t changed anything. He’d gotten into TAG and it hadn’t mattered. Even if he made it into the Rowdy Boys, it probably still wouldn’t make a difference. Because nothing ever did.
No matter what he did, he still had to have Simp’s back. Tez’s back. The hood’s back.
“Hello? You still there?” Tai asked.
He tapped off a message to Mila—that’s real messed up—then put his face back into view of his cam.
“What do you keep doing? Your head disappearing in and out making me seasick,” Tai said. She peered at the screen, trying to see past the tiny bubble of the camera lens.
“My bad. I’m trying do homework,” he said.
“Oh. Why you talking to me then?” she asked, with a big grin.
“You hit me up,” he reminded her, with an eyebrow flick. She loved being the center of attention anytime they talked. He couldn’t lie—he was all right with it, sometimes. He was definitely all right with how she’d be all up on him, standing close enough so her butt was touching his hip or leg—yeah, he liked that. But he wasn’t looking for no girlfriend. He hated when she acted like she owned him, side-eyeing anytime he had words for another girl.
He glanced as his phone’s backlight beckoned him again.
JahMeeLah: it is but it doesn’t mean u can’t keep trying to get out. u know? U still got ur audition. On cue, Tai’s voice demanded his attention. “For real, if you got homework to do I’mma let you go, ’cause you not even talking.”
He started to say “all right then” and let her go so he could focus on texting Mila, but he hadn’t answered Tai’s original question and he needed to squash mess before it got too deep in the rumors.
“Nah, I’m good. Go ’head,” he said, inviting her to go back to what she really wanted to talk about in the first place.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “You and Simp beefing or something? Y’all wasn’t talking at the bus stop, and on the way home he said something about Chris starting stuff.”
Rollie’s lip twitched as he stopped himself from reacting. He wiped at his mouth to get his face in order. “Naw, we not beefing. He don’t like Chris.” He shrugged. “And Chris don’t like him. I’m caught in the middle and it’s played out. That’s all and that�
��s it.”
He tapped out a message to Mila as Tai talked: I am focused on it but for real everybody trying be up in what I should do and how I should do it. Like be off me
“Not trying take sides but you did kind of drop Simp once Chris moved here,” Tai said.
Rollie frowned at her face in the small square box on his screen. “I dropped him? You act like he was my girlfriend or something.”
“I hope the girlfriend position already filled.” She laughed. “But for real, you do hang out with Chris a lot now. You know you was Simp’s ace.” She pinched her fingers close together. “He just a lil’ salty.”
Rollie palmed his phone off to the side of the screen to read Mila’s message: fr fr I’m not saying its easy. When I’m in dance that’s all I’m thinking about tho. I think I might get a solo for the spring showcase
“Hold up,” Rollie said to Tai. He typed in full view of the cam: Ay shout out to that! u killing it
“I know you not texting some other chick while I’m right here,” Tai said, arms crossed.
It was so crazy that she jumped right to that. Crazier that she was right. He played it off smooth. “Nah. But look, me and Simp be all right. I gotta handle mines right now, though.”
Her face took over the camera. “Meaning?”
He leaned back, raising the front of his chair off the floor. It made it easier to keep his face forward but glance over in case his phone flashed.
“Meaning, I got some business to take care of first. Then it’s whatever whatever with Simp. Like I said, we fine,” he said.
“Rollie, don’t mess around and get cut from the team. It’s bad enough you not co-captain,” Tai said, doing her pouty thing.
“I got this,” he said, practically growling.
She rolled her eyes. “Look, I was just trying help y’all out. When me and Bean—” She sucked her teeth. “When me and Mila wasn’t talking over the summer, it sucked. Chris is cool. But you and Simp been friends too long to be tripping.”
“You done, Dr. Tai?” Rollie asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. But I’m serious. Do whatever dudes do to squash a beef. I mean, if I can be cool with Chrissy—” Her shoulder popped in a shrug. “Anything possible, these days.”