Little Chicago (17 page)

According to Eric Duggan it was the worst tornado in Joliet Township history.

It touched down for sixteen seconds and several houses in the area were permanently damaged. On Rooney Drive there was a garage roof that got ripped off clean. A few seconds later it landed on top of the Hufford Junior High School Memorial Gymnasium.

A kid selling newspapers jogs past us from behind. His paperboy bag is bulging with the
Joliet Herald News.

Some people believe that certain gang activities are taking place here, too, such as the dealing of crack cocaine or the selling of Uzis. I heard Shay telling this to her friend Betty on the phone one night. There's supposed to be one entire unit full of Vicelords.

When we get to the main drive I hand her the can of red paint and the wooden ruler.

Mary Jane Paddington says, Maybe next time you can come over to my house.

Okay, I say.

Her hair is totally dry now and the red streaks look red again.

We can do it in the garage, she adds.

Do what? I ask.

She says, Paint each other.

Then we just stand there for a minute.

The sky is like dirty dishwater.

Her poncho crackles in the wind.

Okay then, she says, snapping the top snap of my Koren Motors windbreaker. Stay warm. Bye.

Then she kisses me on the cheek and turns and walks away.

Bye, I say. I love you.

I know she can't hear me cause of the wind but I say it again.

I love you, Mary Jane.

17

When I get to the loading dock behind Costco the rain has started up again.

I flip up the collar of my windbreaker to keep warm.

There are a few trucks backed into the loading docks. One of them says
SEALY POSTUREPEDIC
and there's a big picture of a mattress.

The red Camaro is parked next to a large van with a mermaid painted on the side. The Camaro has dark windows and an Indiana license plate and a bumper sticker that says
TED NUGENT LIVES FOREVER!

I knock on the window and wait.

I get the feeling that someone is watching me from inside the van.

After a minute the Camaro's window comes down and a man with a face like a lizard's looks out at me. I think he must be related to my bus driver.

There's rock music on low. It's a woman moaning to a guitar.

Who the fuck are you? he asks.

I'm Blacky, I say.

Blacky who?

Blacky Brown, I say. Flahive sent me.

He says,
Flahive
sent you?

His voice is like a saw on a log.

I nod.

He sent you?

Yes, I say.

He looks at me for a minute and then opens the door and says, Why you wearin a hardhat, you afraid of gettin hit or somethin?

I'm just wearin it, I say.

Get in.

I get in the Camaro. The passenger seat smells like feet and fireworks.

I say, You're Lloyd, right?

He says, Last time I checked I was.

Then Lloyd lights a cigarette. There are empty packs of Kools all over the floor.

My sister smokes those, I say.

Lloyd says, Tell her to quit. Motherfuckers ruin your life.

After he exhales he says, So what can I do for you, Blacky?

I say, I need bullets.

What kinda bullets?

I pull out my gun and hand it to him.

He studies it for a second and says, This was Basano's. Flahive sold this piece of shit to you?

I nod.

How much did he take off you?

I say, A lot.

He says, Flahive. What a criminal. Fucking thing ain't accurate for shit. You're better off using a bow and arrow. You want me to gas it up for you?

I nod.

Slugs to kill the bugs, he says. Stay here, I'll be right back.

Then he opens his door and looks out.

Fuckin weather's goin apeshit, ain't it?

I don't respond. I just sort of sit there.

Then Lloyd slides out and slams the door.

He taps on the windshield to the van and a moment later the driver's side window goes down and a large African American man's head appears. He's got a gold tooth and a beard.

Lloyd talks to him for a minute and then comes back to the car. He opens the door and leans his head in.

We got a special on bottle rockets right now, you want any bottle rockets?

No, thanks, I say. Just the bullets.

Cool, he says, staring at me for a moment. The cops sent you over here or somethin?

No, I say. Flahive sent me.

You sure?

I'm sure, I say.

I can call him, you know.

I just sit there.

The rain is coming into the Camaro. Some garbage from one of the trucks blows by. At first I think it's a rat but it's only a black plastic bag.

Lloyd closes the door and goes back to the van.

I turn and look into the back seat. Besides several McDonald's bags and a box of Schlitz Malt Liquor beer, there's not much to look at.

The door opens and Lloyd sits in the driver's seat. That'll be twelve bucks, he says.

I go into my pocket and take out three singles and some change I found in Shay's underwear drawer. The change totals eighty-nine cents.

This is all I got, I say.

He takes the three dollars and counts out the eighty-nine cents. Then he opens the gun, removes four bullets, and adjusts the cylinder.

You only got enough for two, he says. I hope you're a good shot.

Then he hands me the gun.

I say, I'll give you a handjob for the other four.

What? he says.

Flahive showed me how, I explain.

He did?

Yes.

Lloyd says, Flahive's a fuckin pervert, and shakes his head.

Then he rolls his window down and shouts, Yo, Barnes! Flahive made this little dude give him a handjob! Fuckin evil bitch!

The African American man just shakes his head behind the window.

After a minute Lloyd looks at my gun and says, You know how to use one of these things?

Sort of, I say.

I loaded your two rounds in the carriage so they'll fire first. Don't mess with it. You just point and shoot. But make sure the safety's off. This is the safety, he says, showing me the little switch on the side.

Like so, he says, and puts the safety back to where it was.

Then he hands me the gun with my two bullets and I put it in the pocket of my windbreaker.

How old are you anyway? he asks.

Eleven, I say. But I'll be twelve in a few weeks.

Don't do anything stupid with that thing, he says.

I won't, I say. It's for protection.

Yeah, he says, we could all use some protection these days. Fuckin gangs movin in everywhere. Motherfuckers are gonna put me outta business.

Lloyd looks out the window for a moment and says, So you wanna smoke a joint or somethin?

I say, No, thanks. I gotta get home.

Then he says, Cool. If you see Flahive tell him he's a punk.

Okay, I say, and then I open the door.

Later, he says.

I close the door and walk away.

The Costco trucks look like they know just about everything.

The rain has gotten colder.

I would say that it is freezing.

As I walk by the van I can feel that African American man watching me behind the window.

I put my hand on my gun.

It feels different now.

18

That night I sleep with my gun under my pillow.

I have a dream that I'm a lion.

I have a mane and I'm walking around on all fours.

At school everyone's afraid of me and when I show up in the cafeteria I roar so loud Steve Degerald's and Evan Keefler's heads pop off.

The Crewcut Brothers' heads pop off too.

Tornado drill! I roar. Get in position!

They all get into position and I flip them over one by one and eat their stomachs.

When I wake up I am disappointed to find that I am no longer a lion.

It's raining again and you can hear it hitting the roof. It sounds like fish simmering in a pan.

Cheedle is sleeping so deep you can hardly hear him breathing.

Ma's with someone in the kitchen.

They are laughing and trying to be quiet about it. His voice is deep and hoarse. I imagine him seven feet tall with a mustache and cowboy boots.

When I go out to the kitchen Ma is serving Folger's instant coffee to a man with a huge back. He doesn't have a mustache but he's got a beard.

I think he might be Native American cause he looks like Sitting Bull.

They don't know I'm there.

When Ma places the coffee in front of him she puts her hand on his shoulder and he looks up at her and puts his hand on top of hers.

His face is yellow and wooden-looking.

Then Ma dips her head toward his and they kiss.

His beard moves like an animal.

In the kitchen light Ma's hair looks yellow and dry. Like Frosted Flakes without the frost.

When they finish kissing the man turns and sees me. His eyes are black and small.

He says, Hi there.

His voice is high like a woman's. He seems younger than Ma.

Hey, Blacky, Ma says. This is a friend of mine. Lake.

Link, the man says.

Ma says, I mean Link. Did we wake you?

I was up, I say.

The alcohol on their breath makes the kitchen smell sweet and disinfected.

Why are you still wearing your Shunday shlacks? Ma asks.

When Ma's drunk some of her
s's
turn into
sh's.

I say, Cause all my other pants are dirty.

You're sposed to save those for church, Blacky.

We don't go to church, I say.

Then Ma loses her balance and lands on her butt. Link helps her up and puts her on his lap.

Ma giggles and then burps and then laughs some more.

I say, She's not sposed to be drinking cause she takes medicine.

Ma says, Oh, ha. Medicine shmedicine.

Then she laughs and burps again.

What do you do? I ask Link.

I drive a rig, he says. Eighteen wheeler.

Eighteen wheels, Ma says.

She almost falls off his lap but he hugs her around the belly. There's a tattoo of a word across his knuckles. It says
LUCK
.

Ma says, Vroom, and laughs some more.

Then they kiss and he pinches her butt.

I say, I'm telling Al.

Then I just stand there.

Nobody says anything.

The refrigerator is so loud I think it might break.

Who's Al? Link asks.

Ma says, Just a friend of the family.

Family
comes out like
fambly.

I say, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know about this, and then I turn and go back to my room.

In bed I try to sleep but I can't stop picturing the Native American man on top of Ma. His body glows huge and yellow.

His beard gets all slick with grossness and he smothers her with his belly.

They hiss at each other when their parts touch.

They look greedy and sad.

Later I can hear Ma crying.

I go into her room.

I don't knock, I just walk in.

She is sitting on the floor with a shoebox. Her face is wet with snots and tears.

I say, Hey.

She says, Hey.

I stand there in my brown Sunday slacks. When I sleep in them they make my legs itch.

What's wrong? I ask.

Ma says, He left.

I say, Why?

She says, Because he got nervous when you mentioned Al.

Sorry, I say.

We don't talk for a minute.

I watch her General Electric digital alarm clock go from 2:05am to 2:06am.

What's in the box? I ask.

Letters, she says.

Letters from who?

Your father, she says. Gerald Senior. He used to write me. Sonuvabitch wasn't a bad writer.

Where is he? I ask.

She says, I don't know where he is, Blacky.

How come?

He never left a return address, she explains. Your Uncle Jack tried to track him down. We thought he might be down in Galveston but we gave up looking after a while.

Where's Galveston? I ask.

It's in Texas. He could be in Mexico, for all I know.

I say, What did he look like?

For some reason I always pictured him as this man that's on a Wrigley's Spearmint Gum commercial.

Ma says, He looks just like you, Blacky.

I say, He does?

You're a spitting image.

Ma wipes her eyes with some Kleenex. Her face is puffy and sore-looking.

For some reason I want to tell her about how I touched that deer, but when I open my mouth I have to close it cause I think I'm going to vomit.

I walk over to her and try to put my hand on her cheek but she stops me.

Don't, she says.

I take my hand back.

Don't you dare do that.

Okay, I say. I won't.

Then she says, Leave me alone.

So I do.

I turn and go back to bed.

19

Mary Jane Paddington and I are holding hands in the hall. It's just after homeroom and we're at her locker.

Her hand is warm and wet.

Mine is cold and hard.

This fifth grader with bushy eyebrows runs up to me and gives me a thumbs-up.

Skanks die tomorrow! he says, and spits at Mary Jane Paddington.

His spit misses and hits the combination dial on Jenny Carpenter's locker.

When he runs away Mary Jane Paddington says, See what we've started? They can't handle it.

In Speech, Drama, and Journalism Miss Williams assigns impromptu death scenes. We did birth scenes last week.

She says
impromptu
means that you can't think about it. You just have to stand in front of the class and go off the cuff.

Skip Bush pretends he's at a fancy restaurant eating a plate of fried eggs. Instead of salt the waiter gives him international hitman poison.

He chokes to death and falls to the floor.

This isn't salt! he cries.