Chapter Four Name's sake
Standing at the cliff looking back as the dogs approach $50 bounty on my head, right next to the collar bells I’ll jump, I swear! The dogs fall back easy nigger, easy I crossed a line They came to take me Back a cross under my feet I felt the ancestors reaching holes in their hands and feet it’s safer here They seem to say In green pastures Next to the still waters
Chapter Six Double Oaks -‐ The Jungle Second Grade 1994 The forest air is so dense he can't breathe. He's running but can't hear the wind in his ear or feel it blowing through his hair. Fluids are leaking from every part of his body: sweat, tears, mucous, urine. Blood? It's too dark to tell. He doesn't know what he's running from. No one does. All he knows, all anyone knows is what the senses reveal: the smell of blood and fear, the sound of animals clawing around him, the thorny twigs and wet leaves underfoot. He ducks behind a tree and grabs his chest to keep his heart from escaping. But he can't feel a heartbeat. The air has become sticky now and it clings to his skin. He peers around the corner into the black and a voice jumps out at him. "Dammit, Nicole I told you to hold onto that check till Friday!" "I needed the money, what was I supposed to do!" He leaps up from his bed, hand still clutching his chest. His brothers are on the bottom bunk, tossing and turning – in their own jungles. He climbs down the ladder and tip toes out to his parent's bedroom door. Peeking in the door, all he sees is his stepfather's face, swollen with anger. "Nicole I told you I don't get paid to next week! How we gonna pay the light bill now? What the hell were you thinking!" "We can borrow it from Momma, Guy. It ain't that much!" "No. No! We not borrowing no more money from Ms. Carson."
"Why not?" "Because I said so goddammit. I'm tired of you questioning me all the fucking time!" There was a pause. No one breathed. The air was still. Time was still. The stepfather's face began to deflate like a balloon with a tiny hole in it. Then the muscles in his arms tightened. The sound of bone hitting flesh-‐-‐thrusting time forward again. The mother was on the ground with her hands covering her face. The sound of soft sobbing exhales and mucous forming. "Look what you made me do Nicole!" The boy stumbled back a few steps then raced back to his room, climbed the ladder to his bunk bed, and pulled the covers over his head. A few moments later, the stepdad came into the room and cut the light on. He held his breath afraid that breathing would give him away. The stepfather stood at the door a moment, cut the light off and closed it.
Chapter Fifteen Lessons before Dying – Lesson # 2 Seventh grade 1999 My first fight was in the third grade. And as with most conflicts I would have throughout school, my mouth got me in trouble. No punches were thrown because we were both pretty boys. Just words, followed by a few seconds of shoving. Hardly a sellout match. My mother used to tell me all the time to watch my mouth because it would get me in trouble – a trait recognized early because it had been passed on. She knew from experience the trouble it could cause but never watched hers except when she stood in mirrors applying lip-‐gloss. Her nickname was Nikki in school and she was cheeky and quick-‐witted. She had to be. Dainty high yellow girls with long, thick hair like her were the constant targets of scorn. Other girls ragged on her because they thought she was conceited. Her sharp tongue was natural selection at work. Only thing was Nikki couldn't fight. She talked tough but when it came time to throw hands, she got her tail whooped. Neesie, on the other hand, was sturdily built and whatever trash she talked she could back it up. They met in first grade and became friends. Once they reached middle school, Neesie would stand up for Nikki every time she would get into fights. When Nikki starting treating her like she was her muscle –picking fights then running to her for defense-‐-‐she stopped fighting her battles. "You need to either learn how to shut your mouth or learn how to fight girl." As they grew older, the nature of their friendship changed, becoming more lopsided. Nikki became excessively acquiescent, agreeing with most of what Neesie had to say. Nikki had
her first child-‐-‐a son-‐-‐two years apart from Neesie's daughter. That son was me. We grew up together, played in the same crib and performed the same roles as our mothers. Portia, Neesie's daughter, was bossy while I was deferential and accommodating – at least when it came to her. At school, I was the loud mouth, quick-‐witted spitting image of my mother. Most of Neesie's close friends were like Nikki, yielding and careful not to get on her bad side. Starla was one such friend. She and Neesie looked like sisters. They had a similar stocky frame, complexion, and sense of style. Starla wore weaves and imitation gold hoops and triangles just like Neesie. They even had the same staccato laugh. On the weekends they would go out to the club together occasionally, leaving Portia and I at home. We'd stay up late playing with Barbies and watching movies. One day Starla and Neesie fell out. I don't remember what it was over, but it likely involved Starla having a vastly different opinion about something and finally revealing it to Neesie without reservation. "Let me tell you something. Bring me that dress and heels right now. And anything else I let you borrow. Look. Just bring me my stuff. Bye." Neesie hung up the phone and stepped into the living room from the dining room. Portia and I were sitting on the floor watching TV. "I'm bout to go run a few quick errands but I'll be right back. If Starla gets here before I get back then get my dress and shoes from her and put it in my room on the bed." About an hour later Neesie returned and asked if Starla had come by yet. Before we could answer a long series of loud car honks came from outside. Neesie walked over and looked at the window. "I know this heifer is not outside honking for me to come out like I'm some trick." She made her way to the door, walked out and slammed it behind her.
"Come on, put on your shoes!" Portia shouted, "We need to go make sure nothing bad happens." Starla was out of her car standing on the sidewalk about fifty feet from Neesie. "Why the fuck are you honking like that? You too good to come bring me my stuff to my door." "The first time I came by your car wasn't here so I had to come back, why the hell weren't you here the first time. You tell me to come by, but you're not here? Really" "Portia and Stephen were here. You shoulda just brought me my belongings ike I asked you too instead of worrying about where I'm at. Bitch, I'm a grown ass woman."
"No, you shoulda had your ass here –" Neesie had had enough talking. Her face became
frozen as she started stalking towards Starla with her clenched fists to her side. I turned to Portia. "Do something dummy!" she yelled.
"I don't-‐-‐what do I?" I replied, my heart now racing.
"Stop her!"
I started walking alongside Neesie and then stepped in front of her with my hands up as
though I was trying to hold a wall from falling.
"Neesie stop. Please"
"Get out of my way Stephen." She commanded in a calm voice,
"But I just-‐-‐"
"Stephen. Move."
"Okay" I said and stepped aside.
"What are you doing idiot!" Portia said walking along side Neesie on the other side of the sidewalk.
"She told me to move!"
"So you just move?"
"What am I supposed to do?" I looked ahead and saw that Neesie was closing in fast on
Starla who was still talking. I thought about stepping in front of Neesie again but was afraid she would get angry with me. Then I thought about trying to get Starla to run or get in her car and leave. Before I could I decide what to do, I heard a loud hollow, bone cracking sound. Neesie had landed a right hook on Starla's jaw. When she leaned forward clasping her mouth, Neesie grabbed her by the weave with her left hand and started jabbing her in different parts of the face with her right hand. "Neesiee! Stop!" Portia started to cry. "Go back inside the house!" When Neesie finally let go of Starla's hair, she fell on her face and began crying weakly.