Dough Boys

by Paula Chase

  Simp looked to his right. The Del Rio Crossings’ table was deep in the corner. Several of the Pumas were still looking their way. Simp gritted a few seconds longer. Like some kind of bell had gone off sending them to their separate corners, they lost interest and broke eye contact. Simp’s head shook. “It ain’t my fault Zahvee don’t got a set of his own. That’s his problem.” He shrugged. “You not from here so—”

  “Y’all act like we moved here from Mars. We get it.” Chris rolled his eyes. “But it’s still stupid. I don’t like everybody, either, but I got reasons when I don’t.”

  Simp glared at Chris. “Yeah, well, we don’t roll like that at B lunch.”

  Rollie stood up. He had never wanted a teacher to walk by so bad his whole life. He grabbed his backpack from the floor, sat it on the bench, and fiddled with the zipper. He couldn’t take sides.

  But his muscles, tight and ready to spring, prepared to jump into whatever popped off. He didn’t know what was worse—having to jump in if a fight had started with Marcus or now. It was always something.

  “For somebody who don’t care, you be here every lunch like it’s yours,” Chris said.

  Chrissy squeezed her brother’s elbow. “Stop, Chris.”

  He moved his elbow but stopped short of snatching away. “Naw. Since we not from here, I’m trying hip myself on how they get down in the Cove. That’s all.”

  Simp looked down his nose at Chris. “Youn need worry how Cove get down.”

  Chris swung his legs around the bench and sprung up. “Yo, is that a threat?”

  Rollie was amazed how fast Chrissy got her long legs untangled from under the table. She put her hand on her brother’s chest all the while pleading with Simp.

  “Can y’all stop? Please. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  Mila nodded. “Marcus probably laughing knowing he caused beef between us.”

  “Sit down . . . please,” Chrissy said to her brother. He obeyed, keeping his back to the table. The muscles in his neck were tight.

  “Look, I ain’t the one beefing,” Simp said, pouting. “He got a problem with me.”

  Mo looked from Rollie to Simp to Chris. “What’s going on with y’all? What problem?”

  “Nothing going on,” Rollie said, forcing the words to sound natural. He looked at Simp while he talked. “Everybody not all loved up like y’all.”

  Tai got loud. “Who’s ‘y’all’? I wouldn’t say we all that.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” Mo said, with an eye roll so vicious her lashes fluttered a full minute.

  “Well, we not, Mo. Keep it one hundred,” Tai said, just as huffy.

  “But we not sitting here in the caf ready stomp, either,” Mo said.

  Simp walked around the table and stood in front of Chris. Chrissy looked frightened.

  Simp’s hand, stiff and in Chris’s face, lingered. Finally Chris slid his hand across Simp’s and gripped at the fingers. The sun came out on Chrissy’s face as she beamed like she’d prevented a world war. But hadn’t she?

  Rollie’s fingers tapped in nervous celebration on top of his backpack.

  “Happy now, Mo? Ain’t nobody ready stomp,” Simp said. “I gotta dip.”

  “You ain’t doing it for me,” Mo called after his back. She fixed Rollie and Chris with a stern look. “All I know is, we not jumping into it next time y’all ready brawl. I mean it.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” Chrissy said, throwing a look her brother’s way.

  Rollie didn’t know what the twins had agreed on, but Chris’s reluctant nod confirmed he’d made some sort of promise. He didn’t really understand the bond. He didn’t have brothers and sisters—at least none he knew about. But he was thankful for it. Simp and Chris’s peace pact was what he needed.

  Days later he got up the nerve to admit it to Simp.

  He stood on his front stoop and called out, “Oo-oooo.” A few houses up, a door opened and Champ stuck his head out. He looked up and down the street, saw Rollie, and hollered back. Rollie threw up the peace sign.

  “You good?” Champ called out.

  “Yeah. Trying hit up Simp,” Rollie called back.

  In that moment he loved his hood. Loved knowing that his boys would be there for him from a simple shout. There was movement in Simp’s window as someone peeked through the blinds. In seconds Simp was on the step no shoes, no jacket. He immediately looked left then right up the street before exchanging a pound.

  “What up?” he asked.

  “I needed to holler for a minute,” Rollie said. “Hit the Wa with me.”

  Simp glanced back at the cracked open door. “Ioun really want leave my brothers right now.”

  “Oh, it’s cool,” Rollie said, turning to leave so Simp couldn’t see his disappointment.

  “Nah. Hold up.” Simp hollered back into the house, “Dre, you and Derek get your coats so you can go with me to the Wa. Dom, watch Dee.”

  “If you can’t that’s all right,” Rollie said, not meaning it.

  “You can come in,” Simp said.

  Rollie unzipped his coat inside the row’s stifling heat. Dom was on the couch in shorts and an undershirt. His eyes were glued to the television, which was up too loud.

  “You still getting those A’s, Dom?” Rollie said.

  Dom answered reluctantly, “Yeah.”

  “That’s good, man. Keep doing that,” Rollie said, tapping his fist against Dom’s.

  “Thanks.” Dom grinned. “I’m one of the only boys in the Captain’s Club.”

  Rollie wasn’t surprised. The small after-school club for kids that got straight A’s had been the same way when he was at the elementary school. They had always called them the nerd herd. Nobody was interested in being in it, but everybody secretly hated on them when report cards came out and they got a full-blown pizza party with a DJ. Rollie did fine in school but not straight A fine.

  “I told him being the only dude mean he’ll get all the honeys,” Simp said, smiling proudly.

  “True dat,” Rollie said.

  Dom’s nose wrinkled, making them laugh.

  “Come on,” Simp yelled up the stairs.

  Dre sauntered down carrying Little Dee. He dropped him on the sofa and ignored Dee’s outstretched arms. Derek bowled past them.

  “Can I get a slice of pizza?” he asked, already out the door.

  “Ay, stop running,” Simp called out. “Dre, keep up with him so he don’t run out in the road. We gonna take the long way.”

  Dre sucked his teeth. “Why we not taking the shortcut? It’s cold out here.”

  “You just be crying about everything,” Simp said.

  “Ain’t nobody crying,” Dre said.

  The insult had the effect it was supposed to. Dre picked up his pace. He didn’t bother to catch up with Derek. Instead, he imitated his big brother’s style of barking orders, yelling at his brother to come back. Rollie waited until they were far enough ahead.

  “Ay, yo, look . . . I been tripping a little bit lately,” Rollie said. He listened to the thud of their footsteps. The low, steady pounding calmed him. “I was kirkin’ on everybody ’cause I couldn’t handle mine, for a minute. Know what I mean?” He accepted the nod of Simp’s head. “Low-key I was doing too much.”

  “Wasn’t nothing low-key ’bout it, son. That was high-key all day,” Simp said. “But I ain’t mad at you. You was on your music grind.”

  “Truth,” Rollie said. He slowed his steps when they ventured too close to Dre. Derek’s babble filled the air. Rollie couldn’t remember how it felt to be seven and be so happy about something as stupid as walking up to the C-store. He sighed and a puff of white air floated in front of his face. “I had real stuff on my mind, though. Son, I tried out for the Rowdy Boys.”

  He waited for a big reaction but only got a shrug and, “Yeah, Tai told me.”

  “And that’s my bad. You shoulda heard it from me,” Rollie said.

  The apology lingered between them. As they
neared the entrance of the neighborhood, an “Oo-oooo” echoed from a group of their friends standing by the fence.

  Rollie and Simp both called back and threw up a fist.

  Cars on the main road zoomed by. The swish of their speed overpowered Derek’s chatter. Once they rounded the corner, they’d be at the plaza. Once they were out of view of the dudes working the fence, Rollie stopped walking.

  “Son, I gotta get out. I can’t . . . it’s not me,” he said. He pulled his hat down so it sat right above his eyes. “I can’t even spend the money we be making ’cause you know my moms gonna know something up the second I do. I just feel caught up. I thought if I made the band, that would be my way out. But I ain’t on that level yet. I—”

  “Ay, it’s swazy. For real. I ain’t tripping no more.” Simp said. He wiped his hand over his face like he was trying to scrub away sadness. “I was at first, though, for real. Man, I thought we was gonna run a whole crew. But, Angel said the game ain’t for everybody. And it ain’t. No shade.”

  They gripped, and Rollie felt the weight of the world fall away. He wanted to hold on to the feeling forever. As they pulled away he said. “Can I keep it one hundred?”

  “Always,” Simp said.

  “The game ain’t for nobody,” Rollie said. He pushed on past Simp’s raised eyebrow. “You don’t gotta stay down with it, son. If you ball for Sam Well High, you wouldn’t be able to play for Tez no more anyway.”

  Simp’s laugh was bitter. “All right, well, we can holler about that if I ever get there.”

  “Naw, I know,” Rollie said. He hadn’t meant to bring up Simp being a year behind everybody else. “Just saying, you can get out.”

  “I don’t want get out, though,” Simp said. The corners of his mouth were pulled into a tiny smirk. “I’m good at two things—basketball and hustling.” He looked past Rollie, shrugging. “And when my mother be needing the money, basketball ain’t gonna get that for me. I ain’t tripping that you done, though.”

  Rollie wanted to say more. But what?

  He wanted to tell somebody. But who? Simp’s mother knew how he got money.

  He felt helpless for himself and for Simp, but he let the cold freeze the forced smile on his face.

  “What, you giving up on balling in the pros, son?” he asked.

  Simp snorted, his grin big. “Never that.”

  Before his brothers could disappear around the bend, Simp yelled out to wait. As they caught up, he fantasized about life as a baller, talking about the cars he’d buy, the type of house he’d have. Rollie played along. Loyal as everybody supposedly was to the Cove, getting out was still the goal.

  Rollie sent up a silent prayer to Him that somehow both he and Simp would do it.

  Simp

  The smell of funky Pampers and burnt bacon smacked Simp in the face as soon as he stepped in Ms. Pat’s row. He hopped back out of the way of two little girls running from a little boy waving a plastic bat. They squealed, part terror, part glee, and Ms. Pat yelled from the top of the stairs, “Didn’t I tell y’all stop all that screaming?” The bat boy whisper-yelled, “Batter up,” and the girls clapped their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter.

  “Ay, Miss Pat,” Simp said. He kept his post at the door. Anytime anybody went farther than that, she had a fit talking about nosy people walking through her house. All anybody came by for was to pick up their kids from her wannabe day-care center, but she acted like everybody was the state looking to bust her for not having a license.

  “How you doing, Simp?” Ms. Pat came down the stairs, Little Dee in her arms. “His bag right there,” she said, pointing to the sofa. At least he assumed it was a sofa under the three diaper bags, a bunch of magazines, and toys.

  Little Dee reached for him, calling out with joy, “Thimmmmp.”

  Simp’s heart flipped. He didn’t love babysitting at all, but Dee’s happiness made Simp feel like he was rescuing him. He had barely scooped Dee’s bag onto his shoulder before Ms. Pat dropped his brother into his other arm.

  “When your mother gonna pay me?” she asked, cutting her eyes. She pushed a big swath of weave behind her ear, hand on her hip.

  “Ioun have nothing to do with that, Ms. Pat,” Simp said, boosting Dee up.

  Both hands flew to her hips. “Well you gonna have something do with it if I don’t get paid and you need stay home from school to watch your brother. I knew I shouldn’t have let your mother slide with paying me late. People make me sick how they take advantage—”

  Simp sucked his teeth. “How much she owe you?” He toggled Dee while he went into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of money.

  Ms. Pat smiled at the cash. “Umph, look at you.” Crying came from a crib in the corner. She looked back at Simp, eyeing the money all the while as she walked away. “She owe me two hundred. You got that much?”

  “That’s none of your business,” he said, without blinking. Sensing he wasn’t playing, Ms. Pat frowned but stayed quiet. “How I know she really owe you two hundred?”

  Ms. Pat picked up the crying baby and slung it gently onto her shoulder. The gesture didn’t match her nasty tone. “It ain’t like you can’t call or text her and ask. And you know where I live. What I’mma work you out of money for and don’t got nowhere to hide from you?” She rolled her eyes at him like it was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. As she patted the baby’s back, her voice lowered. “If I don’t get my money today, y’all need find somewhere else for Dee to go.”

  She glared at him, all the while rubbing the baby’s back. Simp stared back, Dee wriggling in his arms. Finally, he peeled off two hundred in crumbled and worn twenties and tens, held the money out, then pulled it back when she reached for it. Her mouth pinched in anger. “For real, Ms. Pat, if I find out you playing me—” He let her make up whatever threat she wanted. It felt weird talking to her that way, but he meant it. He didn’t need nobody thinking they could scam him.

  She snatched the money. “What I need lie for?” She sniffed as she looked him up and down. There was anger in her face, but fear, too. Still, she didn’t back down. “And who you think you are, anyway? I’m grown and you talking to me like that.”

  “I’m the one who just paid you,” he said, stuffing the rest of the money in his pocket as he turned to go. He waited for her or at least her words to follow him out the door. But all he heard was a faint “hmph,” and the quiet clunk as she locked her screen door.

  “Who she thought she was messing with? Huh, man?” he asked Dee playfully. Dee wrapped his arms around Simp’s neck. Simp held him tighter, his stride long. His chest was tight with emotion.

  There was a lot he had to teach his brothers about not getting caught up in their hood’s nonsense. Whether it was petty beefs or people running game, it was always something you had to look out for.

  He dropped Dee’s stuff inside the door and yelled for his brothers to come on. Dom immediately groused and begged to stay home alone—at nine he could—but Simp didn’t let him. It was too nice out. Still chilly but not cold.

  They headed to the basketball courts.

  A full game was running on one court. People were standing around, watching and waiting to get on. Another court was full of a bunch of little boys trying to have their own version of the main game. Everybody seemed to be out enjoying the break in the cold. They probably felt the same way about the outdoor courts as Simp—no rules, no refs, just balling as hard as you can. He took his brothers to the empty middle court. Dom reluctantly let himself get pulled into a game with Dre and Derek. They stayed on one end of the court and Simp dribbled the ball with Dee on the other end. The ball was almost bigger than Dee. Every time Simp showed him how to dribble, he picked up the ball and ran. Simp tripped off how he’d run a few steps then stop, usually nowhere near the hoop, then throw the ball.

  He took a pic of him and posted it: Balling like his big bruh already. Within seconds, Tai had liked it. He grinned stupidly at the little red heart next to his post,
laughing at the comments coming in. Some of ’em joking him saying Dee was probably already better than him and a bunch from girls with the same message and aww.

  It was a good day. Probably the first day in a while he didn’t feel like there was a gorilla sitting on his back. He knew when it had finally got off him, too—when Rollie told him he wanted out of the game.

  He had been scared of hearing those words for months now. And had always thought when he heard them, he’d either end up begging Rollie to stay or be mad at him for punking out. Instead, he’d been grateful that Rollie had told him straight up and to his face. And first, he thought to himself. He told me first.

  His burner tickled his right thigh as it buzzed.

  It was a 10.10.

  Dee shot out from under him and ran toward the other end of the court.

  “Ay, come here,” he called out to his brothers, waving them over.

  As they approached, Dre taunted Dom. “My point.” He pretended to flick the ball at his face.

  “I don’t care,” Dom said, flinching.

  “Is it my turn to shoot?” Derek asked.

  “It’s time to go,” Simp said when they encircled him. He picked up Dee, slung him onto his hip.

  Dre’s mouth immediately drooped. His eyes were hard black beans looking beyond Simp.

  “Look, I need go,” Simp said in as much apology as he would allow himself. “So y’all need head home.”

  “Can’t Dre take us home after we finish playing?” Derek looked from Simp to Dre.

  “I’m ready go, anyway,” Dom said. He zipped up his jacket like he’d suddenly gotten a chill.

  “Y’all can finish playing in the backyard,” Simp said, knowing their shabby hoop wasn’t a good substitute for the courts. But it was all he had to offer.

  Dre pulled Dee from his arms. “Let’s go,” he said, walking away without glancing at Simp.

  “Can we play when we get home?” Derek asked, skipping to keep up.

  Simp watched them go, then turned and went the other way, deeper into the neighborhood.

  He tried to forget the steely anger in Dre’s eyes. Maybe he could have let his brothers play out their game. Dre would have got ’em all home. But he couldn’t risk something happening. What if they got into it with somebody? Somebody was always trying come up by picking on the little kids.