Cornered (34 page)

“You can finish your lunch just as soon as we finish some bizness.” Benny gets right up in my face for emphasis. He stinks
somethin' awful, worse than that even. Like rotten fish and underarm funk. I take a quick glace at the door. The other thug's got a trash can wedged up against it. “We're gonna cut to the chase. We need you to do something for us.” I hear the words and get an instant bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
This is not gonna be good. . . .

I lower my head and let Benny's words beat me up. You'd think it would be better to get hit by words than fists, but in this case, I would've taken the beat down of a lifetime than have to hear what Benny was tellin' me. Givin' me instructions was more like it. Tellin' me step by step what I had to do.

I shut my eyes, pretending that I'm listening real close like he told me. Really, I'm just pretending I'm someplace else. Pretending I'm anyplace but this hellhole of a bathroom and a school. Wishing I was any place but in this life.

Benny gives me a little push to my chest as I watch him and his
friend
leave the bathroom. I take a minute to collect myself, splashing some water on my face to try to wash away what I just heard. But there ain't no soap invented that will get rid of that mess.

• • •

My walk back to the cafeteria is even slower than my walk to the bathroom. Dixon has a look on his face like he just saw a ghost. Probably thought I was dead. In true Dixon fashion, he waited for me. Even though lunch is over and the bell is about to ring. He waited.
I gotta give him props for that. He is a true friend.

Dixon stares at me like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. He doesn't even have to ask, and I don't even have to answer. My look says it all. I was in the shit, big time, and there wasn't a damn thing either of us could do about it.

• • •

Flipping through the pages of my American history book I try to concentrate, but it's no use.
History, that's what I'm gonna be, come tomorrow.

“Whatcha gonna do?” Dixon's voice breaks into my thoughts. Both of us are
supposed
to be studying at the library. We always sit in the quiet section, away from the DVDs and computers.

The library is like no-man's-land, a safe haven in between gang territories. Nobody messes with you at the library. It's like an unwritten rule of the gangbangers.

“I don't know. Got till tomorrow night. That's when it's supposed to go down. That's when . . .” I can't even finish my sentence. I can't even think it.

“You think Benny was serious? I mean, if you don't—”

“What do you think?” I stare down at the floor, wishing I could stay in this library forever.

There's a long silence before either of us speak again. It's like I can feel the wheels turning in Dixon's brain, trying to figure out a way for me. But both of us know, no matter how fast those wheels move, there ain't no way out.

“I guess you gotta do what you gotta do,” Dixon finally says.

“Closing time, boys. Did you find some more good books?” Ms. Anne asks, pushing a cart full of books that she probably still has to put away.

“Naw, not today,” I answer her.

“Oh, that's too bad. How about you, Dixon?”

“No, we just came to study. We'll be back tomorrow, though; probably check some more out then.” Dixon's always tryin' to get brownie points, even with a librarian.

“You two are my best customers, I have to keep this place stocked so you have new books to read. See you tomorrow,” Ms. Anne says with her usual smile.

“Okay, see ya,” Dixon says as we both head out of the library.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I say doubtfully, under my breath.
If I can make it through tomorrow.

• • •

Sleep comes and goes, mostly goes. I know I must have fallen asleep at some point, but if I did, it wasn't for very long. I can see the sun coming up; trying to shine its way through my window. Just peaking the beginning of its rays into my room. Tryin' to tell me a new day has arrived. The day that could signal the end of my life.

“Go away, sun,” I try to yell, but the words come out all scratchy and groggy sounding. “Go away.” But the sun doesn't answer.

I walk out into the living room. I don't hear a thing. I check in to see if Mumma is home, but she's not.
They didn't come home
last night either.
If I gave a two shits, I'd be worried, but since I don't, I'm not.

I throw my clothes on, brush my teeth, and head out the door to catch the bus. The school bus isn't the kind of bus I want to catch on this morning. I have a strong urge to walk to the Greyhound station and leave town. Out of the state, as far away as I can get from Helzburg. The feeling builds in me so strong that I actually start walking in the direction of the station. Just a few steps are all I take, and then I stop.
Where am I supposed to go without a dime in my pocket?
I realize.
I'm just gonna have to do what I gotta do.

• • •

The day washes over me like dirty soap, and I can't get clean. I can't get clear of what I have to do. Lunchtime comes, and me and Dixon sit down in the caf. He is munchin' down on a sloppy joe, I'm just staring at my plate.

“How ya doin?” Dixon asks between bites. He's looking at me like it might be the last time he ever sees me. Which is not too far off.

“I'm doin',” I answer back. I hear my voice, but it doesn't seem like it's my own. Everything today is like from some sort of alternate reality.

“I'm feelin' kinda lightheaded,” I blurt out, from nowhere.

“You know you don't have to do it. You could go to the cops.”

His voice doesn't sound very convincing.

“Yeah, the cops, that's gonna go over real well. How long you think I'll last after I call them?” Dixon just nods, knowing that I'm right. Knowing that there's no way out.

• • •

I feel like I'm gonna puke as I walk out of my last class. It takes everything in my whole body and my mind not to just throw up all over myself.

“See ya later.” Benny leans in and whispers in my ear as I leave school for what could be the very last time. He pushes past me with his “boys” laughing and pointing back at me. I keep my head down, like I'm invisible.
Damned if I do, dead if I don't.

Me and Dixon get on the bus. I feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. I look over at Dixon, and he's got his nose stuck in a new zombie book. I just stare out the window, watching the school get smaller and smaller. Thinking, when I see it again,
if I see it again
, I won't be the same. I'll never be the same.

• • •

“So you know what you gotta do.”

“I know,” I say back, my voice even smaller than how I feel. Knowing that the next person who walks by is gonna get jumped, beat up, and possibly killed. And I'm the one who has to do it.

I know it's impossible, but I'm praying that no one walks by. It's not the most traveled area, but it's traveled enough. Just enough off of Rampart Ave. to be out of the way, but not far
enough off so that no one walks past. Someone will come by. Most likely someone walking home from a crappy job, going back to their crappy life. They don't deserve what I'm about to do to them. No one does. But what can I do? It's either them or me. Benny made it crystal clear: if I didn't jump someone, rob them, and use the knife he gave me, then it would be used on me.

“Okay, get back here, behind this Dumpster like this. When you see someone, jump out, pull your knife out, and just stab 'em quick. Like this.” Benny shows me with the knife. Stabbing at the air with a look of demented glee in his eyes.
He's really enjoying this. Psychopath.

“Don't worry. We'll clean you up afterward,” Benny says. A huge scary grin plastered to his face.

“What about . . . the . . . the person?” I ask. Feeling like I'm in a total out of body experience.

“Well, we'll call Nine-One-One, make sure they get taken to the hospital,” Benny says, about as truthful sounding as a politician. I watch him takes a swig from a beer bottle he just pulled out of one of his jacket pockets. He takes another, then another.

The other thugs that came with Benny are drinkin' too. Just standin' around like they do this kind of thing every night.
Maybe they do.

“Okay, Shelly girl, you're on.” I can see someone coming, the outline getting closer, the shadow filling up the empty concrete squares of the sidewalk.

I get myself ready. I can't do this, I can't do this. I'll just scare them. Pretend to stab them and drop the knife, make it look like it slipped from my hands. The thoughts are racing in and out of my head so fast I can't keep up with them.

I can't do this I can't—I won't . . . Maybe it's a girl, a woman. Benny said no girls. Please let it be a girl. . . .

As the outline gets closer, I can tell it's no girl. It's like someone else is controlling my body, because before I can stop myself I am jumping out from behind the Dumpster screaming at a person I don't even know with a big-ass knife in my hand, praying to God that he just runs away, fast.

“Oh, you went and picked the wrong dude tonight.” In almost one motion, the dude kicks the knife out of my hand, pushes me to the ground, and shoves a gun practically up my nostrils as he puts all of his weight onto my chest.

“I'm gonna do you right here,” he whispers in my ear. “Don't you know who I am? Your momma ain't never gonna find you. They'll be parts of you all over town.”

“No, don't, please, I—” I shut my eyes waiting for the bullet to explode into my brain.
At least it will be over quick.
The thought, the last thought I will ever have goes through my mind. This is it. I can feel the warm sensation of pee roll down my leg. Then after what seems like a lifetime I hear the dude speak.

“No. I ain't gonna kill you, why would I kill a homie?” I think I hear wrong and look up toward the dude. Somethin' about his voice makes him sound young.
He's a kid like me.
I
didn't notice it before because he had a hat pulled over his face and a big jacket on. All of a sudden the dude gets up off of me, brushes himself off, and starts to laugh. I get up slowly, still confused, not sure if I'm really safe. Not sure if the dude is gonna change his mind and drop a couple rounds in me after all. I look up just in time to see Benny running toward me his hands outstretched.

“You had a choice to run with us, we got tired of waitin' so we decided for you. You were gonna go through with it. You were gonna do it.” Benny is almost hopping up and down with joy. “This is Darrell, one of your homies now. Pretty convincin', huh?” Darrell comes in for a soul hug.

“What's up, Shell. Did I scare you?” Darrell looks down at the freshly formed pee spot on the front of my pants. Now everyone is laughing.

“But I—” I stop myself as the cold, horrible, reality of my situation becomes clear.
But I wasn't gonna do it. I'm not a killer—I'm not.

“Now, Shell, next time is for real.” Benny looks crazy, even crazier than he usually looks. But what's worse is the huge smile on his face. Like he just can't wait until I
do it
for real.

• • •

I hear the laughs and screams, like hyenas at a house party, as I fast-walk away from this nightmare. I stink of pee, and I'm soaked with sweat. But I'm alive, and I didn't kill anyone. I try to take solace in those facts. At least for now I'm safe. And I
guess as long as I run with Benny's set I'll stay that way.

I take a long hard look in the direction of the Greyhound station.
It would be so easy to just disappear.
I start walking in that direction. No matter I ain't got no money in my pockets. No matter I ain't got no place to go. I stop dead in my tracks, frozen like I was stuck in a big block of ice. I do a three sixty and head back toward my apartment. Back to my life, the only one I know, the only one I have. At least I got Dixon, and maybe one day Marketta too.
Yeah, keep on dreamin', I know it.

I pick up my pace, past all the fools hangin' on the block. Past all the liquor stores and check-cashing places. Past what people think the hood is like.
I can tell you, it's what it's like.

I pass it all, knowing deep down there's gotta be more than all this madness. And somehow, someway, I gotta get to it, and I gotta get to it soon. . . .

I see a police car tear around the corner, lights flashing, sirens blaring.
They're gonna catch you. . .
. A homeless guy asks me for some change. I shrug my shoulders, shake my head, and keep on walkin'.

BY
J
AMES
L
ECESNE

T
HE HOUSE IS DEAD
quiet, which is kind of funny since I'm lying perfectly still and trying not to breathe. I can only do this for two minutes tops, but you get the idea. Practice makes perfect.