Urban Gothic (2 page)

From the back of the station wagon, Javier said, “Dude, there’s a sign for Route 30. Doesn’t that take us back to Lititz?”

“I don’t want to go back to Lititz. I want to go to Camden.”

“Fuck Camden,” Javier shouted. “Have you looked outside? You’re gonna get us carjacked!”

Tyler stared straight ahead. “You guys worry too much. For fuck’s sake, we just came from a rap concert. Now y’all are worried about driving through the city? Bunch of white-bread motherfuckers.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Brett said, “you’re white too, Tyler.”

“I’m not white. I’m Italian.”

Javier sighed.

“Everybody just calm the fuck down,” Tyler continued. “We’ll be fine. Long as you don’t fuck with anybody, they won’t fuck with you.”

He’d kept his voice calm, but his teeth were clenched. Kerri knew from experience that his anger was building inside again.

The last of his facade shattered when the engine light came on and steam began billowing out from under the hood, blanketing the windshield.

“Shit!”

The engine sputtered, then died. The radio and head-lights died with it. Their speed decreased from forty miles an hour to five. They’d rolled a few more yards and then came to a halt. Another car horn blared behind them, the driver impatient. Tyler tried turning on the emergency blinkers, but they didn’t work.

“Motherfucker.” He opened the door, got out, and waved the other car around them. Then he ducked back into the station wagon and pulled the hood latch.

“Stay in here,” he said, then stomped off to the front of the car.

And now here they were—broken down in the middle of the hood.

Tyler’s fault.

Kerri shook her head and sighed.

“Shit happens,” Javier grumbled again.

Heather nodded in agreement. “He just
had
to go to Camden tonight. If he’d listened to us, we’d be on the turnpike by now.”

“Maybe we should go out and help him,” Brett suggested. “I mean, Tyler doesn’t know shit about cars. Dustin was always the motor head. What’s he gonna do out there?”

Kerri frowned. “Tyler said to stay in the car.”

“Screw that,” Brett said. “It’s hot in here, and there’s no way I’m rolling the windows down.”

“You’re afraid to roll the windows down,” Heather said, “but you’d rather stand outside with Tyler?”

“Yeah,” Javier said. “What’s that about, bro?”

Smirking, Heather adopted a baby-talk tone. “He knows Tyler will beat up the big bad gangbangers if they mess with us. He’s afraid.”

Brett’s ears turned red. Instead of responding, he opened the door and got out.

“You know,” Stephanie said, turning to Heather. “That was a real bitch move.”

Heather’s smile died. “I was just kidding.”

“Well, Brett’s sensitive. You know that.”

Sighing, Javier and Heather got out of the car to apologize to Brett. Stephanie remained seated, rummaging through her purse. She pulled out a pink cell phone and flipped it open. The display glowed in the darkness.

“Who are you calling?” Kerri asked.

“My parents. They’ve got Triple A. They can send a tow truck for us.”

“Hold off on that. Let’s just wait a minute and see what’s wrong with the car first.”

“Screw that,” Stephanie said. “I’m not sitting around here waiting to get mugged. Have you taken a look outside? It’s like Baghdad out there.”

Kerri rubbed her temples. A headache was forming behind her eyes.

“Please, Steph? Let’s just wait a few minutes. If you call them now, you’re just going to piss Tyler off even more.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re not the one who has to deal with him when he’s angry. Please? Do it for me?”

Stephanie shook her head. “I don’t know why you put up with that shit. If Brett treated me that way, I’d have dumped him a long time ago.”

“Brett lets you walk all over him. He’s done that since middle school. He’s a pushover.”

“Maybe. But he’s sweet, and he treats me the way I deserve to be treated. He respects me. Like I said, I don’t know why you put up with Tyler. He doesn’t respect anyone or anything. Not even himself. ”

“I won’t have to put up with it for much longer. Once I’m at Rutgers, things will be different. We’ll drift apart.”

“Why not just break up with him now?”

Kerri paused before answering. “Because I care about him, and I don’t want to hurt him. I’m afraid of what he might do if I did.”

“To you?”

“No. Not to me. To himself.”

Stephanie didn’t respond. She quietly closed her cell phone and stuffed it back into her purse.

Kerri murmured, “I don’t think Tyler likes himself very much.”

“You think?” Stephanie’s tone was sarcastic. “What was your first clue?”

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? Pretty little Stephanie, who gets everything she wants. Some of us don’t have it that easy, Steph. You’re supposed to be my best friend. I don’t need that shit from you. You gave Heather shit for picking on Brett, but then you’re going to turn around and do it to me?”

Scowling, Kerri opened the passenger door and stepped out into the street. Stephanie quickly followed her, offering apologies. They joined the others huddled around the open hood. The guys were peering down at the engine intently. Steam rose from the radiator. The motor smelled of oil and antifreeze. Heather was smoking a cigarette. Kerri bummed one from her. Stephanie made a disgusted sound when she lit up.

Tyler raised his head and looked at them. “I thought I told you guys to stay in the car. Doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”

“It’s hot in there.” Stephanie tossed her head. “Want me to call my parents? They’ve got Triple A.”

“No.” Tyler returned his attention to the engine. “We can figure this out.”

“You’re doing a great job so far.”

Tyler’s knuckles curled around the car’s front grille, clenching tightly. Kerri and Brett both motioned at Stephanie to be quiet. Another cloud of steam drifted up from the engine.

Even though the sun had gone down, it was still excruciatingly hot outside. The heat seemed to radiate off the sidewalks and the pitted blacktop in waves. The air was a sticky, damp miasma. Kerri tugged at her blouse. Between all the sweating she’d done at the concert and the temperature here on the street, the sheer fabric stuck to her skin. She took another drag off the cigarette, but with the extreme humidity, it was like inhaling soup. She smelled food cooking. Gasoline. Piss. Booze. Burned rubber. Hot asphalt. Stephanie’s perfume. The mix was nauseating.

Coughing, Kerri breathed through her mouth and looked around, nervously studying their surroundings. She’d heard the term urban blight before, but had never really understood it until now. Most of the streetlights weren’t working, and the few that were operational cast a sickly yellow pall across the neighborhood. Combined with the moonlight, it made for an eerie scene.

They were surrounded by decrepit row homes, none of which looked hospitable. In the gloom, the squat houses seemed like monoliths, endless black walls with deteriorating features. Dim lights burned behind dirty curtains or through broken windows—some of which were covered with clear plastic or stuffed with soiled rags. Many of the buildings were missing roof tiles, and the outside walls had gaps where bricks or boards had crumbled away. Some were covered with graffiti—gang tags and names she didn’t understand. None of the homes had yards, unless you counted the broken sidewalks, split by the roots of long-dead trees and cracked by blistering summers and frigid winters. Cockroaches and ants scuttled on the sunken concrete amidst crack vials, cigarette butts and glittering shards of broken glass. Ruptured garbage bags sat on the curbs, spewing their rotten contents into the street.

The sidewalks and stoops were deserted, except for a surly-looking gang of youths lurking on the street corner about a block away. Kerri’s gaze lingered on them for a moment, before moving on. The only businesses on the street were a pawn shop, a liquor store, and a newsstand. All three were closed for the night, shuttered with heavy steel security gates. Many of the businesses also had graffiti painted on them. So did some of the junk cars sitting along the curb. A few of the vehicles looked abandoned—shattered windshields, missing tires replaced with cement blocks, bodies rusted out and dented, bumpers hanging off or bashed in.

She turned in the opposite direction and looked farther down the street. It seemed to terminate in a dead end. Beyond the row homes was a large swath of debris covered pavement, as if all the buildings in that section had been knocked down. The moonlight was stronger there, and the headlights of passing cars illuminated the scene. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal girders jutted from the devastation. Beyond that was a single house, much larger than the rest of the row homes. Kerri thought it must be at least a hundred years old, judging by the architecture. Maybe one of the original buildings in this neighborhood, standing there long before the slums had been erected. She supposed at one time it had been very pretty. Now it was a desolate ruin—in even worse condition than the other row homes. It seemed to squat at the end of the street, looming over the block. Beyond it was a vacant lot, overgrown with weeds and brambles. Behind that was a tall, rusted chain-link fence. Kerri stared at the house. She shivered despite the heat. She had the uncanny impression that the abandoned building was somehow
watching
them.

Tyler cursed, rapping his knuckles against the car, and Kerri’s attention returned to her friends. As she did, she noticed that the street had emptied of traffic. They were suddenly all alone.

“Maybe we should call Steph’s parents,” Brett suggested. “It’s pretty late, and we’re in a bad neighborhood.”

Tyler glanced up at him, opened his mouth to respond, and then stared over Brett’s shoulder. Kerri saw his face twitch. Then she and the others turned around to see what had attracted his attention.

The group of black men she’d noticed a moment before was slowly approaching. The boys appeared to be about the same age as they were. Most of the youths were dressed in either athletic jerseys or white tank tops. Their pants, held up only by tightly cinched belts and the tongues of their high-topped sneakers, sagged almost to their kneecaps, exposing their boxer shorts. Gold rings and necklaces completed the ensemble. A few of them wore backwards ball caps on their heads. The one in the lead wore a black do-rag on his head. Gold hoops glittered from each of his ears. He reminded Kerri of a pirate.

“Oh shit,” Brett whispered. “What the hell do they want?”

Stephanie whimpered. “We’re going to get mugged.”

Brett nodded. “This is bad. This is really fucking bad.”

“Calm the hell down,” Javier said. “You guys automatically assume that just because they’re black, they’re gonna mug us?”

“Look at them,” Brett insisted. “They sure as hell don’t look like they’re here to sell us Girl Scout cookies.”

Javier glared at him, speechless.

The group shuffled closer. All of them walked with a sort of lazy, loping gait. Kerri’s nervousness increased. She wanted to agree with Javier, but then she considered their situation and their surroundings. Panic overwhelmed her. She reached for Tyler’s hand, but he was stiff as stone.

“Shit,” Brett moaned. “Fucking do something, you guys!”

Javier shoved him. “Dude, chill out. You’re acting like an asshole.”

When the group was about ten feet away, they stopped. The leader stepped forward and glared at them suspiciously.

Slowly, his friends stepped alongside him.

“The fuck y’all doing around here? You lost?”

His voice was deep and surly. He stood tensed, as if ready to spring at them.

Stephanie and Heather clasped hands and took a simultaneous step backward. Brett slipped in behind them. Javier stepped out from behind the car and faced the group. Tyler slowly slammed the hood, then joined him. Kerri stayed where she was. Her feet felt rooted to the spot. Her heart pounded beneath her breast.

Another of the black youths spoke up. “Man asked you a question.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” Tyler said.

Kerri cringed at the plaintive, pleading tone in his voice.

“Well, if you don’t want no trouble,” the leader said, grinning, “then you’re in the wrong place.”

His friends chuckled among themselves in response. He held up a hand and they immediately fell silent.

“Come into this neighborhood after dark,” he continued, “then you
must
be looking for trouble. Or dope. Or be lost. So which one is it?”