“All right, man,” Anthony said, but didn’t move.
Zach sighed. “Come on, Tony, don’t be a smart-ass little freshman. Do it now, so I can go to breakfast.”
“Go on, I ain’t stopping you. And quit calling me Tony, bitch. That’s not my name.”
Zach stared for a few seconds with his mouth hanging open. Then he turned around and stormed back into the dorm. He was probably telling Mr. Hawley, but Anthony didn’t care. Until Zach learned how to show respect, the two of them were going to have problems.
Anthony took his time but finally went back inside, made his bed, and then headed to breakfast. He noticed Paul and Khalik walking ahead of him and quickly caught up. When they saw the black girl sitting alone outside the dining hall, the three of them walked even faster. Paul sat down next to her, and Anthony stood on the other side. She looked like a young Beyoncé and her hair smelled like citrus fruit.
“Excuse me?” she said, leaning away from Anthony but into Paul. “This ain’t the A train. Give a sister some room.”
Paul and Khalik grinned triumphantly and shouted, “Brooklyn!” at the same time.
Her name was Gloria, and she was a new tenth grader. A death in the family had delayed her arrival, and she had just gotten in the night before. Other than her roommate and a few other girls in her dorm, the three boys were the only people she’d talked to.
“Well, don’t get your hopes up,” Khalik said happily. “As far as black people go, you pretty much found all of us.”
“Not everybody,” she said, and smiled to herself. “George Fuller goes to school here, too, right?”
Khalik dribbled and then shot an invisible basketball. “You know Big G? Planet Brooklyn strikes again, ya heard?”
“Well, we ain’t seen him yet,” Paul said in a voice that was suddenly deep. “But that’s why I came here, to help my man win a championship.”
“Me, too,” Khalik added, dribbling the ball again.
“What about you, baby?” Paul continued. “You got any game? ’Cause I can teach you.”
Gloria stood and looked down at the top of his head. Paul stood, too, but still had to look up to her. “Don’t worry, little fella,” she said. “I got enough game for both of us.”
Anthony suddenly felt shorter than usual, and he was tired of being on the outside looking in. “Wish they had them some football at this school,” he offered. “Now that’s my sport, right there.”
Gloria looked back and forth between Paul and Khalik, and then settled her gaze on Anthony. “You wishin’ they had dem some footbawl?” she said. “Where you from? Alabama?”
Anthony’s face got warm, but he kept his voice even. “I’m from Cleveland,” he said. “You know, Ohio?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “More like Slow-hio.” Everyone laughed, including Anthony, who would have let the beautiful girl insult him every day of the week.
They went inside the dining hall and spotted George almost right away. He was huge and sitting at a table in the back of the room, along with another black boy and one that looked Puerto Rican. “Why does he have to be so damn fine?” Gloria said, and touched Anthony’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” he said, feeling suddenly jealous and reckless at the same time. “Let’s go on over there and ask him.” Anthony was pulling her along before she could answer. Paul and Khalik trailed behind them, whispering to each other. When they got close to the table, the older boys looked up. Anthony cleared his throat and introduced himself. “W’sup, man, I’m Ant Jones. You must be George, right?” He extended a palm, and the biggest boy slapped it.
“Nice to meet you,” George said, but he was looking at Gloria. The other boys at his table were looking at her, too.
“This is Gloria,” Ant continued, and then motioned to the other boys standing behind them. “This one right here is Paul. The other one is Khalik. They’re all from Brooklyn, just like you, I guess.”
Paul and Khalik quickly slapped George’s hand, while Gloria shyly smiled. “How you doing?” she said, and then looked at the floor.
“I’m good, baby girl,” George said, spreading his legs. “Especially right now.” He grinned and she looked down again, trying to hide her happiness. “So you’re from Brooklyn?” George continued. “What part?”
“Brownsville. What about you?”
“Bed-Stuy, do or die.”
Paul hooted and so did Khalik. One of the boys sitting with George did it, too. Anthony frowned, but what else did he expect? “Everywhere I look, another New Yorker.”
The Latino boy spoke up then and proudly thumped his chest. “No New York here,” he said. “I come straight from the mean streets of Lawrence.”
“Don’t front, Hector,” the other boy said, laughing. “They don’t even have streets in that part of Massachusetts, mean or nice.”
“Whatever, Jamaal,” Hector said. “We got streets, and we got Latin Kings, too.” He threw up signs with both of his hands, and Jamaal answered with stiff middle fingers.
Just then there came a commotion from near the front of the dining hall. Someone had dropped their dishes, and most of the kids were cheering. When he turned his attention back to the table, Anthony saw that George was looking at him. “So where you from, shorty rock?” George asked. “Boston?”
“Slow-hio,” Khalik answered before Anthony could. “You can hear it in his country-ass voice.”
Anthony glared. “I can beat that ass slow, too.”
“Damn,” George said while everyone else laughed. “Remind me not to piss you off. What part of Ohio you from? Cincinnati?”
“East Cleveland.”
Jamaal’s face lit up for a second, and he leaned across the table. “East Cleveland? I’m from East New York. You think they’re the same?”
“I don’t know,” Anthony said, still wanting to punch Khalik. “Probably.”
George looked back and forth between the two nodding boys and then started to nod himself. “Well, all right, Ant from East Cleveland,” he said, standing up. “Believe it or not, around here you gotta look both ways before you cross the street, just like back at home.” He bent down, put a hand on Gloria’s shoulder, and squeezed. “You let me know if you need anything, baby girl. Day or night.” Walking away, the big junior leaned into Jamaal. “Swear to God, son. She look just like Beyoncé.”
Anthony’s first class that day was Algebra I, and he left it feeling dizzy. The same thing was true for biology, history, and Spanish. The only exception was English, but even then most of the conversation went over his head. If it wasn’t for the fact that Gloria was in there, Anthony wouldn’t have paid attention to anything.
And it was all of the talking that confused him the most. Kids had something to say about everything. It didn’t matter if they had the right answer or not, or even if they kept to the topic; the teachers still let kids run their mouths until they ran out of words or until another student interrupted. Anthony had never experienced classes like that. Back at home, kids who asked too many questions usually got shut down or sent to the principal’s office. And as for the ones who had all the answers, sometimes they got sent to the hospital.