“Who? Your son?”
I nod. “He wouldn’t stop—I didn’t know how to make him stop crying, man, and I was tired and—” I shake my head at myself. “I walked out the house and left him crying.”
“Did you go back?”
I look up at him. “Of course I did.”
“That’s what matters,” Dre says. “Parenting is hard, cuz. You gon’ break sometimes. The most important thing is that you pull yourself together and go back, playboy.”
“A’ight, Oprah,” I say, and straighten up. “I better get outta here ’fore I’m late to school.”
“Hold up.” Dre come over to me. He slip his gold chain from his neck and drape it over mine, then he slide his gold watch off and clasp it on my wrist. The watch used to be our granddaddy’s. He gave it to Dre before he died. “There. That’ll make you a li’l bit fly. Bring my shit back tomorrow, I ain’t playing.”
I crack a smile. “I owe you.”
“Focus on them grades, that’s all you gotta do for me. You bet’ not get in trouble either, or I’ll roll through. Now get outta here.”
“A’ight, a’ight,” I say as he push me toward the sidewalk. “Holla at you later.”
Garden High is really named Jefferson Davis High School, but people rarely call it that. I researched that man and nothing need to be named after him. He was a slave owner and the president of the Confederate states. Garden Heights always been mostly Black, and I figure whoever named the school after him did it as a middle finger to all of us, like they calling us slaves.
Fuck that, and fuck Jefferson Davis.
I climb the front stairs of the school. Since my first day freshman year, I’ve had one goal—graduate and get up outta here. I figure I been in school this long. It would be stupid to not walk away from it all with something. Just gotta pass my classes, stay outta trouble, and be done with it. Then I can focus on important stuff, like making money.
The hallways mad packed, and it’s obvious it’s the first day. Everybody else look like they came from the mall and from getting their hair done. Li’l Man got me looking like a bum.
People say, “Whaddup, Li’l Don,” as I pass them in the halls. I guess I’m popular or whatever. This one dude mean-mug the shit outta me though. I think his name is Ant. That green bandana hanging from his back pocket tell everybody he a Garden Disciple. This the only high school in the neighborhood, so King Lords and GDs all go here, and stuff always pop off.
I don’t know why this dude staring me down, and I really don’t wanna get into nothing on the first day. I keep it moving till he call out, “Tell your bitch-ass cousin to watch his back.”
I turn around. “What?”
Ant close in on me. His name make sense—he short as hell. It’s always the short ones who instigate, on some Napoleon shit.
“I said tell your bitch-ass cousin to watch his back. He got some nerve coming to the east side with that racing shit and making money on our turf.”
Dre love to race his car for money. Usually he only do it on the west side. Said the east too risky, being GD territory and all.
It ain’t against the codes for him to race over there, and I ain’t finna let nobody come at my cousin.
“He can race wherever the hell he wanna. We run the Garden, fool.”
“Y’all don’t run shit!”
“Ayooooo!” Junie come up behind me. We been cool since kindergarten, and he claim gray. “We got a problem here?”
Rico with him, and suddenly it’s three King Lords versus one Garden Disciple. Ant outsized too. Junie almost seven feet tall—college basketball recruiters love that. Rico built like a linebacker; he always been the heaviest kid in class.
Ant back up, glaring me down. “Your cousin better watch his back.”
“Can your short ass reach his back?” I ask.
Junie and Rico bust out laughing. Once he gone, we do our handshakes.
“’Preciate it, y’all.”
“He really tried it on the first day,” Rico says.
“Feet probably dangle from the sidewalk, and he wanna start shit,” says Junie. “Them GDs been on one lately.”
“Word?” I say.
“Oh yeah. Dawg, remember last weekend?” Rico say to Junie, and they both crack up. “They didn’t see it coming!”
I look back and forth between them. “What happened last weekend?”
“You had to be there, Mav,” Junie claims. “Some stuff can’t be discussed in public, you know?”
“Oh.”
“Don’t sweat it, my G,” says Rico. “You’ll be back in the streets before you know it.”
“The big homies not tripping ’cause I’m stuck at home, are they?”
“Nope, you good,” Junie says. “Shawn and Dre got your back. Not like your ass ever get in trouble no way, Li’l Don.”
Him and Rico laugh.
“Man, forget you,” I say. Some people think I get special treatment ’cause of my pops. I hate that shit.
“We playing, we playing,” Rico says. “How daddy duty going?”
“Rough. This morning he pooped on me. I had to change my whole outfit.”
“Hold up. They can poop on you? Was that mentioned in the parenting manual?” Junie asks.
He act like my son is a car. “What manual? I’m learning as I go. It’s messed up.”
“What’s really messed up is these kicks!” Rico bend down to look at my Jordans.
“I know you ain’t come to school in these, Mav.”
“What’s wrong with them?” I ask.
“They fake.”
“Nah. I just got these.”
“From where?”
“Red.” He a hustler who sell stuff out the trunk of his car. I ran into him while I went to get Li’l Man some diapers last week. I agreed to swap some of my video games in exchange for these since I don’t got money for kicks. “He hooked me up with them.”
“He hooked you up with some fakes,” says Rico. “Your Jumpman got a booty crack.”
“What?” I yell, as Junie laugh. “You lying!”
I look at them closer, and he right. The Jumpman do got a booty crack.
“Yoooooo,” Junie says into his fist. “Mav got ass-crack Jordans!”
“He got them booty-crack Elevens!” Rico says.
They run around in a circle, howling laughing.
I’m gon’ whoop Red’s ass. “Shut up!”
“A’ight, a’ight, chill, Rico.” Junie drape his arm around my shoulder. I shrug him off. “Mav got enough problems. Cut him some slack.”
“Yeah, a’ight.” Rico hold his fist to me. “We cool?”
I push his hand away. “Hell nah!”
“Dawg, I ain’t sell you them shoes. Be mad at Red.”
“Trust, I’m gon’ take care of him.”
The bell ring, and everybody head for class. We take our time going to ours. It’s good to be back with my boys, for real. Got me feeling normal again.
“I hate my schedule this year,” Junie says. “I got Phillips for homeroom.”