Snitch Page 8

  He caught my wrist. “Wait, please. I’m not done.”

  I sat back. “Go ahead.”

  “I need to know why you warned me last night. If you hate my guts, why did you help me?”

  “I don’t hate you, Eric. I didn’t wanna see you get hurt.”

  The waiter came up to take our orders. Did I really want to stay?

  Eric saw me hesitate. “C’mon, Julia. It’s just lunch.” He looked at the waiter. “All-day breakfast, please.”

  I gave the waiter back my menu. “Me too.”

  When the waiter left, I said, “So this is why you wanted to meet up with me—to thank me?”

  He nodded. “To buy you lunch.”

  “For saving your life.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re getting off easy. Don’t you think saving your life deserves someplace better than Hal’s? Like Tavern on the Green?”

  He smiled. “That’s my Divine.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Why not? We’re still friends, right?”

  “Friends? I don’t see it. I’m an all-or-nothing type of girl.”

  “I’ll take all, then.” His eyes looked hopeful. My insides twisted.

  “It can’t work, Eric. You’ve never been straight with me. I was really into you, and there was this whole side of you that you purposely kept from me.”

  He was quiet for a long time. I guess my words had some impact.

  He suddenly said, “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “I didn’t think I needed to be open with you. Most people I meet don’t ask me a lot of questions about my past. They don’t want to know. But you’re not like other people.”

  “If other people don’t care if you’re straight with them or not, then I guess I’m different. But I think there are lots of people like me. You just don’t hang out with them. Look around at your Crip brothers and sisters. They’re trash-talkers, hunh? All they talk about is who’s on your territory, who they’re gonna jump, who they’re gonna hustle.”

  “Any one of them would take a bullet for me. That’s what matters.”

  “Who says I wouldn’t take a bullet for you? Not because I’m Crip, but because I’m—I was—your girlfriend.”

  “I think you’re sheltered, Julia. You don’t act like you really know the streets.”

  “I do, trust me. I’ve seen a lot of stuff.”

  “But you haven’t lived that stuff.”

  “I made a choice not to.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t get it. No matter where I go, my gang, it’s in me. They’re all that’s between me and a wooden box. You saw how they came to back me up last night. I can count on them. If my brother could’ve had that kind of backup . . .”

  Brother? He had a brother?

  A muscle bunched in his jaw. “They told him to run his pockets, but he didn’t want to give up his cash and his phone. He wasn’t scared of nothing.” His eyes burned. “Bloods killed him. He was sixteen.”

  “God.” Tears blurred my vision. I reached for his hand, but he pulled back, cracking his knuckles.

  “He was my big brother. He always looked out for me. But he had nobody to get his back. I’d probably be dead too, if it wasn’t for my Crip brothers in Detroit.”

  “I’m sorry, Eric.”

  “My mom sent me to a shrink after. She couldn’t afford it, but she did it anyway. The guy was talking shit about moving on. Letting go. But it doesn’t work like that. When I think of him, I always go back to the same place in my mind, where I’m fourteen, and he’s my big brother. And then his friend comes in screaming.”

  “They say as time goes on, it doesn’t hurt as bad,” I said.

  “That’s what they say.”

  “So in the end, it’s because of him that you joined the Crips.”

  “Yeah. I live to honor my brother, Julia. One day you’ll understand that.”

  “I think I understand you better now.”

  I wanted to tell him how much I cared, how much I wanted to hold him, to comfort him. So I told him with my eyes.

  And that’s when his hand grasped mine, holding on tighter than ever.

  * * *

  After lunch we walked through Prospect Park. It was a gray day, but people still found reasons to go to the park. Soccer and football leagues were still going strong. Kids and their parents sailed mechanized boats in the big pond, getting a kick out of the rippling waves caused by the strong wind.

  We held hands. I’d swear there was an electrical current passing between us. Eric must have felt it too. He was always finding reasons to touch me—brushing hair away from my face, making circles on my back. Anything to be closer.

  Telling me about his brother had knocked down a wall between us. A lot made sense now. I finally knew where the darkness was coming from. And I understood why he’d joined the Crips in the first place, even if I wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision.

  But if it had kept him alive in Detroit, wasn’t it the right decision?

  Yeah, and it had almost gotten him seriously fucked up last night.

  Obviously the issue wasn’t as clear-cut as I thought. And if it wasn’t clear-cut, then maybe I shouldn’t judge him.

  I noticed he wasn’t wearing his colors today. Was that for me? Or maybe he just didn’t wear them all the time?

  We stopped to skip stones in the pond. Eric could skip a stone eight times. He tried to teach me how, even helping me pick out a perfect rock—a small, round, flat one. But I wasn’t really listening to what he was teaching me—I was watching him. I could hardly stop myself from wrapping my arms around him and kissing his gorgeous mouth.

  We sat down on a bench. I snuggled into his side, and he put his arm around me.

  “Feels like this means something,” he said.

  I laid my cheek against the cool leather of his jacket. “I think so.”

  “I hope it doesn’t mean that we’re gonna be friends.”

  I smiled against his jacket. “Well . . .”

  “Look at me, Julia. I’m serious.”

  I raised my head, feeling a little uncertain.

  “You don’t usually hold hands with your friends, do you?” I could see the insecurity in his eyes.

  “No.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to be friends with you. I want to be with you. Will you give me another chance?”

  I couldn’t say the yes I was feeling, not yet. “You aren’t wearing your colors today. Is that because of me?”

  “I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable. Look, if we go out together, I won’t wear my colors. But I’m gonna wear them with my crew and when I’m at school. Can you live with that?”

  Could I live without him, was the question.

  “I can live with that.”

  “I’m glad. God, I missed you, Divine!”

  BITCH

  Come again?” A piece of egg from Q’s bacon-egg-and-cheese fell out of her mouth. “You’re what?”

  We were on the bus Monday morning. I knew she’d be shocked by my news. I was shocked myself.

  “We’re back together. He called on Saturday saying that he really wanted to see me. He wanted to thank me for giving him the heads-up Friday night.”

  “Heads-up about what?”

  I lowered my voice. “You know that fight outside the club? Marie told me the RLN were gonna jump Eric. So I warned him.”

  Q’s eyes bugged out. “I can’t believe you did that! What were you thinking? Does Marie know you warned him?”

  “Probably. I got a call about four in the morning. Some girl yelled ‘bitch’ and then hung up.”

  I didn’t like the worried look on Q’s face. I’d been trying to contain my own anxiety since the crank call by focusing on Eric.

  “So you warned Eric,” she said. “How does that lead to you getting back together?”

  “We went to lunch and we started talking. Really talking.”

  “What does tha
t mean—you weren’t talking before? You were just making out?”

  “No, but before, he wasn’t totally real with me. It’s hard to explain. He told me stuff about his past that made me understand him better.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like his brother got killed by Bloods. And he wasn’t even in a gang.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. After hearing that, I couldn’t blame Eric so much for joining.”

  “Why didn’t he tell you that before?”

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “Look, I don’t mean to sound insensitive here, but what happened to his brother doesn’t mean he has to be Crip his whole life, does it?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Just because you feel bad about his brother doesn’t mean you should get back together with him. Even if you understand his reasons, that doesn’t make it cool that he runs with the Crips.”

  “Maybe not, but Eric is the best guy I’ve ever met, and I’m not gonna judge him. It’s easy for us to put people down for joining gangs—especially people like Marie who just join to get ass. But some people actually join for good reasons. Eric might not even be alive today if it weren’t for his Crip buddies.”

  “You know what this means, right? You’ll be Crip by association.”

  “No, I won’t. It’ll be like with Black Chuck. I can hang out with him without having anything to do with the Crips.”

  “You’d better think about this, Julia. Sure, Eric got away from Naquan and the RLN Friday night, but do you want to be there the time he doesn’t see it coming?”

  “I’ll risk it, I guess.”

  “Don’t guess, Julia, know. I don’t think it’s worth it. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your choice.” She took another bite of her sandwich.

  We got off the bus, stopping at a deli to buy drinks and gum. When we came out, Marie and three RLB were on the sidewalk. I knew immediately that they’d been waiting for us. For me.

  Marie’s hands were on her hips. “Tell me straight up, Julia. You told Eric he was gonna get jumped, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.” Marie’s Bitch-friend Toneya stepped up beside her.

  “You’re the only one outside the gang who knew,” Marie said, her lips barely moving.

  Her coldness caught me off guard. I knew Marie to be loud and mouthy when she got mad, not like this. Marie wouldn’t hurt me, would she? We’d been friends since junior high!

  But she had her Bitches with her. Did she have something to prove?

  “Marie, I don’t want trouble,” I said. “Eric isn’t stupid. He must’ve figured that Naquan was gonna try something.”

  Q said, “Chill, girls. Julia’s no rat.” She grabbed my arm and urged me across the street.

  “Are they coming after us?” I asked, afraid to look back.

  Q glanced over her shoulder. “No, but let’s hurry in case they change their minds.”

  “Marie won’t start something, will she?”

  “You know her as well as I do. She can be a pit bull when she wants to be. I’ll talk to her. In the meantime, watch your back.”

  “I will.”

  * * *

  “Good morning, Divine.”

  Eric was waiting for me at my locker where I dropped off my coat and book bag every morning. He pulled me close and kissed me, not caring who was watching.

  “You taste good,” he said against my lips.

  “That’s Scope for you.”

  “Are we gonna hang out after school?”

  “Depends. Will you wait for me till the end of ninth?”

  “Sure. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Anywhere. We’ll talk about it in History.”

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m not going back to that class.”

  “Why not? You were doing good, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I missed so much class, Ivey’s gonna fail me anyway.”

  “Not necessarily. Trust me. Go back to class.”

  “There’s no point. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay. Later.”

  The morning went by fast. Everybody was asking questions about Eric and me getting back together. I guess people saw our morning kiss, and news spread like bird flu around here.

  There was a lot of talk about the fight Friday night. Bloods and Crips were vowing revenge against one another. But then, what’s new?

  Sixth-period American History rolled around. I felt bad about Eric not coming back to class. True, he’d cut a lot of classes, but maybe if he showed up from now on Ms. Ivey would pass him. I felt partly responsible for him not showing up. If I hadn’t been so cold when we broke up, maybe he wouldn’t have felt like he had to avoid me.

  When the bell rang ending the class, I went up to Ms. Ivey. She looked exhausted, but she managed a smile. “Yes?”

  “Um, Eric Valienté thinks that he doesn’t have a chance of passing this class. Is that true?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “It should be Eric talking to me about this, not you.”

  “Yeah, but the thing is, he thinks he has no chance, so he’s not going to bother. The reason he didn’t come to class was because of me—we’d been going out and we broke up.”

  “But you’re back together now?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I smiled a little.

  Ms. Ivey wasn’t smiling. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m not sure that you and Eric Valienté are suited to each other.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a very intelligent girl, Julia. With a little extra effort, you could be in Advanced Placement classes. Eric doesn’t take school very seriously.”

  “I know he wants to do better.”

  Ms. Ivey stood up, saying good-bye to a couple of students. Then she said, “I’m not blind, Julia. Eric’s a gang member. I recognize the colors. I won’t lecture you on the implications of that; you probably know far more about such things than I do. I’m just surprised at your judgment.”

  My face reddened. I was speechless.

  “You’re a wonderful young woman,” she said, as if it softened the blow. “I don’t want to put you on the defensive. In answer to your question, tell Eric that if he doesn’t cut class again and completes all of his homework, he has a chance of passing.”

  “I’ll tell him,” I said, relieved. “He’ll be back in class tomorrow.”

  THE LOCKER ROOM

  Stretch, more, more!” Ms. Russo stood over me as I sat on the mat, straining to touch my toes. “Keep working on that flexibility, Julia.”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. I loved dancing, but all this stretching was ridiculous. I’d never pulled anything when I danced at home or at parties.

  Next we had to cross our legs, putting our feet over our thighs. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on my knees, palms upward.

  “Breathe in, breathe out,” Ms. Russo said.

  After the stretching was finished, we were on our feet for two warm-up laps around the gym; then we got into rows. Ms. Russo switched on the music and told us to follow her moves.

  Ms. Russo was cool. She didn’t teach us Modern Dance like you’d see at some dance show at BAM. She taught us the kind of moves you could use at parties. The course should’ve really been called Hip-Hop Dancing, but I guess she couldn’t sell that to the principal.

  Five minutes before the end of the period, Ms. Russo dismissed us so we could change. It was always a rush in the change room, at least for those of us who didn’t want to be late for our next class. While I was opening my combination lock, I noticed a sudden silence around me.

  I looked to my right. Marie was standing there with three Bitches: Toneya, Lisa, and Marta.

  “What’s up?” Cold sweat pitted my underarms.

  “We know you snitched,” Marie said, cracking her gum. “And you know what they say about snitches?”

  Snitches get stitches.

 
“C’mon, Marie. We’re cool, right?”

  She advanced on me.

  In the next few seconds I knew three things:

  1. I was backed into the lockers and had nowhere to run.

  2. These girls didn’t fight solo. It was four against one.

  3. Nobody would be brave enough to help me.

  They came at me like chaos.

  I managed to dodge the first punch, which connected with the locker. “Fuck!” Marie shouted.

  They pushed forward, slamming me against the lockers. My head snapped back, a metallic thud resounding through my skull.

  Blows rained down everywhere. Too many to block. I hoisted my arms to try to protect my head.

  “Whore!”

  “Skank!”

  “Snitch!”

  A whole crowd was watching, dragging friends in from the hallway. I could hear them cheering.

  I felt every blow—a fist in my jaw, my shoulder, a steel-toed boot in my shin. I felt their spit on my face. I felt a wad of gum pressed into my hair.

  What the fuck are they doing to me?

  I lashed back, tearing through the maze of fists and smashing someone’s face. They caught my right arm and held it against the steel of the locker, giving Marie free rein. I fought to lift my left arm to shield my face—they pinned that, too.

  I wanted to scream, but it got garbled in my throat as Marie smashed my face and chest. I tried to crouch down, but somebody pulled me up by the hair and hit my face. I tasted blood. I knew I’d been hit by Marie’s gold-plated name ring.

  I managed to free my right arm to sink a hard jab into somebody’s tit.

  I wriggled down to the floor, trying to crouch under the bench. Another blow to my head. The lights started to go out. They were going to kill me. They weren’t stopping, even though I was down, helpless.

  I heard security guards shouting. The blows stopped.

  I wasn’t conscious when the guards found me. I later heard they were worried that I was dead.

  They weren’t the only ones.

  SURFACE

  Julia?” Dad was standing over me, tears in his eyes.

  “Am I okay?” I asked him shakily.