Chameleon (38 page)

Andre ran up behind me. “Shawn, where you going?” The guys followed.

I kept silent and kept walking. Marisol was about a three-point shot away on the grass. She’s so up close and personal with the blue ’banger, she probably don’t even see me, probably don’t even care. I held my head high and stared straight ahead. Just like Malcolm did when he stared down a bunch of cops in Harlem.

“So . . . what we doing, Shawn?”

“We leaving, Trent.”

The three of them followed in silence, staring straight ahead as we strolled past the lovebirds, still close, under the tree. I wanted so bad to look at her, but I couldn’t stand the sight of her with someone else — especially a Crip. Just the thought of her with someone else twisted me up inside. Worse than the Piru stepping on my back. Worse than getting punched in the eye. Worse than getting forearmed in the face. Worse than getting clubbed in the gut. Worse than pulling Auntie off the sidewalk in front of the whole block. Man, girls. . . . They smile in your face, laugh and flirt with you like they love you, and then turn around and do the same with another dude. I thought I knew her. What was I thinking? Did I really believe I was gonna go to her party, give her my little gift, get showered in kisses and thank-you’s, and live happily ever after? Please. My anger pushed me faster out of the park.

“Shawn, slow down.”

What? That don’t sound like Andre, Lorenzo, or Trent. I turned around. Marisol. The guys let her in the circle, then backed up. I folded my arms and looked down on her.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you? I said your name a few times.”

“No.”

I looked over her head. It was easy to look away.

Her voice was warm. “Where you going?”

Mine wasn’t. “We was just leaving.”

“To where?”

“What do you care? You got somebody to keep you company.”

I nodded over at the blue ’banger. He eyeballed both of us, especially me. She glanced back at him and laughed.

Her voice dropped. “You think I’m with . . . him?”

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

She covered her mouth and laughed. “Please! He’s gotta be like twenty-something, and I’m barely fourteen. Ughhh!”

The ice in me melted as I looked into her eyes.

“I ran over here to get away from him,” she whispered in close. “I was on my way to Passion’s, and he stopped me and started talking to me. I’m all alone, so I got nervous and didn’t leave — I couldn’t.”

I turned back to the guys and smiled; everything
was
Kool and the Gang. I turned back to Marisol and found myself eye to nose with the Crip. Two wide nostrils flared out over me as his face screwed itself up.

“Can I he’p you, cuzzzz?”

Forty-ounce fumes filled his words and singed my nose hairs. Dang! Marisol had to breathe that up close. What was I thinking? I should’ve known she wasn’t with this clown.

“Nah, I’m cool.”

His face pushed closer.

“Nah, you ain’t cool. Why you talking to my girl here? Y’all know each other or something?”

His girl? I glanced back at the fellas. Their eyebrows raised as high as mine.

“Yeah. Ahhh, we go to school together.”

He stepped in closer. His body funk pushed me back.

“Yeah, well . . . school’s out, cuzz. So you best be gettin’ on . . . SCHOOLBOY.”

Marisol inched closer to the fellas. “I have to go. I’m already late to see my friend.”

He swung his torso toward her. “Uh-uh. I ain’t done talking to you.”

I had to say something. “She said she had to go.”

He swung back on me. “SO!? What YOU gone do, SCHOOLBOY? Huh? Look at you. Who you gone hurt with them . . . BIRD-ASS arms? You couldn’t hurt a fly.” He laughed, lifting my arms and slamming them into my sides.

“Huh, cuzz . . . what YOU gone do? Wit’ yo’ . . . BIRD-ASS chest.” He pushed a finger into my chest, making me stumble backward.

“See that? One finger and I pushed yo’ BIRD-ASS back. And I got nine more where that came from, cuzz’n.” His hands balled into fists.

Lorenzo stepped up.

“What, FAT BOY? You want some of this too? I’ll lay you out like a casket, cuzz.”

Lorenzo stood still. Andre and Trent stepped up. The four of us focused on him. We weren’t moving. Four of us to one Crip. The odds were finally in our favor.

“Y’all want some too? I got plenty fo’ all y’all,” he said, tightening his fist and flexing his muscles.

Marisol tried to creep her way out of the park. The Crip tried to follow.

I stepped in his way. “She said she had to go. Just let her be on her way.”

“Boy, you better get outta my way.” He threw me aside.

The fellas stepped up and we formed a wall between him and Marisol.

“Y’all kidding, right? It ain’t no thang to lay ALL y’all out right here.”

He jerked his arms up like he was gonna swing.

We flinched.

He laughed. “See? I ain’t even swing and y’all bitch up.”

My heart pulsed in my ears. Marisol watched from the far side of the fellas.

I crossed my skinny little arms and waited. I’ve been tagged purple in the back and socked black in the eye from red Pirus, but I’m still here. What color was this blue ’banger gonna put on me?

He eyeballed the four of us, then sucked his teeth. “Mannn, y’all ain’t even worth the sweat on my sack. It’s too damn hot out here!”

He pushed past us and walked away. But not before yelling out, “Go on wit’ yo’ schoolboys . . . STUCK-UP LITTLE WETBACK!”

I walked over to Marisol.

“You all right?”

Her back was to me, so I couldn’t see her face. Her yellow butterfly clip smiled in a sea of black hair. What now? Do I touch her? Hold her? She spun around to reveal a pair of glassy eyes. Dang . . . she gonna cry? I glanced back at the fellas. Lorenzo made a walking motion with two fingers and pointed at me and her. Andre and Trent did the same. What . . . walk her to Passion’s?

“Ummm, Marisol, listen, if you want, I could . . .”

I glanced at the fellas again. They walked in a circle with their arms around each other.

“I could walk you over to Passion’s if you want.”

She smiled up at me. “No . . . you with your friends. I don’t want you to go out of your way.” Then she touched a finger to each eye. “It’s so bright out here. My eyes are watering.”

“It’s not outta my way. Matter of fact, before all this, we were about to . . .” Go pick out a gift for you. “We were on our way to Lorenzo’s to get something to drink. His house is this way.”

“It would make me feel a lot better. I walk through here by myself all the time, but that’s the first time that’s ever happened. I got scared. He was bigger than me. . . . I was alone. . . . I laughed at his jokes to be nice, but before I knew it . . .” Her eyes dropped to the ground.

“Well, he’s gone. I’m here now.”

She smiled. “Yes . . . you are.”

We headed out. I looked back at the fellas, and they were slapping on each other, screaming, “Go, Shawnie! Go, Shawnie!” without making a sound.

The park and the guys faded behind us as I walked next to Marisol. Alone.

“You talk to your mom about the party?”

“Yeah, she said it’s cool. She was surprised to hear it’s gonna start at seven.”

“Really? When did she think it was gonna start?”

“I think she thought it was gonna be a cake-and-punch party with pin the tail on the donkey.” We laughed. Then silence.

I peeked at her when she turned her head, which she did a lot because the street was so active. Her butterfly clip smiled at me every time she looked away — two smiles for the price of one. I wanted to get closer, but I was thrilled just to be alone with her. We were on the DMZ and getting close to Pop’s. The fellas popped into my head. I would’ve never thought to walk her over to Passion’s. As usual, they were looking out for me.

I snuck a peek at her again and caught her sneaking a peek at me. Our eyes locked for a hot second before she turned away and caressed her hair. I couldn’t pull my eyes off her, but I had to; my chest bumped into something — I mean — someone.

“Slow yo’ stroll and watch where you goin’!”

I peeled my eyes from Marisol, and a green peacock stood in front of me — mint-green from hat to shoes with the toothpick to match. This dude again? Don’t he have any other clothes?

What’s his name again? I moved next to Marisol so he could pass. “Sorry ’bout that.”

“Yeah, you lucky Larry Luck is in a good mood.” He sniffed.

Larry Luck! That’s right. I followed his feathered fedora down the street as he went on his way.

“
Who
was that?” Marisol asked, with the same surprised look that graced my face the first time I saw the green peacock.

“Didn’t you hear? That’s Larry Luck.”

“What’s with all the green . . . especially the . . .” She pointed toward her mouth.

“Toothpick?”

“Yeah. What’s that all about?”

“I don’t know, but believe it or not, I bumped into him before and he was wearing the exact same thing — green from head to toe, toothpick and all.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence. Again.

How much farther? I could walk with her forever, but I don’t know what to say. What did Dad say? Talk about her. Ask about her. She must have been thinking the same way because words came out of her mouth first.

“So, you ready for high school?”

She shook my arm when she said “high school.” It felt good.

“I think so.”

She inched closer and looked up at me. Her eyes warmed my face.

“All those people, though . . . I don’t know. I’m a little scared. Aren’t you?”

I stopped to face her.

“I was. But not anymore.”