I glance at the house across the street and fold my arms across my chest, as if I just opened up my shirt to reveal my sports bra too.
“Yeah” is all I say, knowing that I would make myself into a soft cushion for my dear sister to fall onto if that boy Ainsley pushes her too hard. I will never let anyone break her heart. Then I wonder, who would be my cushion? Who would try to push me? And who would I fall for?
Pride Comes before the Fall
(Haikus)
If I fall in love
Will I sink to the bottom
And swallow water
Make my belly full
With hopes of tender kisses
Round like the moonlight
High over Bushwick
Playing Cupid with our hearts
I am the archer
Later in the afternoon, I have to pass some of Colin’s boys when I go into Hernando’s. They know not to holla at me the same way they do to the others girls around the way. But I know they look. I can feel their eyes on my butt when I pass. I usually stick my middle finger up behind my back, and they laugh and say, “Yeah, that’s Beni’s daughter, all right.”
Without fail, every time I come into Hernando’s, he sings my name at the top of his lungs. “Zuri-loooze! Qué pasa, muchacha?”
“Whassup, Hernando?” I say, rolling my eyes, because I swear he owes me like a hundred dollars from years of not giving back the right change.
I’m only here for a bottle of ice-cold juice, something sweet and chewy, and something salty and crunchy. And five of each so I don’t have to share with my sisters who have all gathered on the stoop with Charlise for a game of cards. As I put all the snacks onto the counter, my phone buzzes. It’s a group text from my sisters: He’s coming into the store!
I immediately know who they’re talking about. So I text back.
So?
Darius looks surprised to see me in there, and he quickly looks away. He’s so obvious, it’s not even funny. We haven’t talked since the Bushwick Riot concert at the park.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he says, and stands in front of the counter next to me.
“Eyyy! Rich boy!” Hernando says.
Darius purses his lips and looks down.
Part of me wishes that Darius would speak up if he doesn’t like something, or else the guys around here will tear him to pieces. He can’t let it all show up on his face so that they don’t misinterpret his expressions. Our neighborhood is loud, and the people are even louder with their thoughts and opinions.
A smooth, old-school R&B groove is playing in the background, and it makes this whole situation weird, as if this is a music video and Darius is the star and I’m just an extra. He’s that well put-together. Again, he’s wearing a button-down shirt and too-tight khaki shorts. I can tell that they’re not the ones from the day we went to the park. These are cargo khaki shorts, and I want to kick myself for noticing that detail. I mean, doesn’t he have chillin’ clothes?
“Would you like a picture?” he asks with a half smile.
And I jump on the inside, not realizing that I was staring that hard. “No,” I quickly say, feeling stupid for letting him catch me like that.
“Do you have any pencils?” he asks Hernando.
“Pencils?” Hernando says. He grabs a pen tied to a string and hands it to Darius.
Darius sighs and shakes his head.
“You need, like, one pencil?” I ask.
“Do you sell a box or a pack of pencils?” Darius asks Hernando again, while ignoring me.
“Nah, you gotta go on Broadway for that. The ninety-nine-cent store,” Hernando says, stroking Tomijeri as he strolls onto the counter with his fat, furry body.
Darius steps back as if Tomijeri is some sort of alien creature.
“What? You’re afraid of bodega cats?” I ask, smirking.
“Maybe I’m allergic to cat dander and I’d like to buy a banana or something. Don’t you think that’s grounds for a lawsuit?”
Both Hernando and I laugh out loud, and Darius immediately drops his head and shoves his hands into his pockets. He stands there for a long minute until three of the corner dudes come in and my heart skips a beat. All their eyes are on Darius as they walk in and even as they pass him, and one purposely bumps into him.
“Sup, Z?” one of guys says. It’s Jay, who I’ve known forever. He doesn’t take his eyes off Darius.
“What up, Jay? What you been up to this summer?” I ask, just to ease the tension. His other boys are getting drinks out of the coolers in the back.
From the corner of my eye, I can tell that Darius doesn’t know what to do. He’s looking at the stuff on the wall behind the counter as if he can’t decide on something. But there’s nothing but batteries, lighters, cigarettes, condoms, and such. Hernando is on his phone now, with Tomijeri curled up under his hand. Jay and his boys are talking shit, and they’re extra loud. I know exactly what they’re doing. So I tap Darius’s arm and motion for him to leave with me.
“Ay yo, Z?” Jay calls out again. “I heard you were chillin’ with my boy Warren the other day.”
“That’s none of your business, Jay!” I grab the plastic bag of snacks and make my way out of the store, hoping that Darius is behind me.
“What you mean that’s none of my business? That’s my boy.”
“Bye, Jay!” is all I say.
“Should I let Warren know that you chillin’ with this dude right here?” Jay says. I can tell by how close his voice is that he’s following us out of the store.
I turn to see Darius right behind me, so I ask, “Darius, don’t you go to school with Warren?”
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is much deeper than usual.
Then I poke my head around Darius and say, “Mind your business, Jay.”
The guys fall back, and I’m relieved. They know not to mess with me, but I’m worried that if Darius is ever by himself in that bodega, they will definitely start some shit with him.
We’re at the corner waiting for the light to change, and Darius is standing beside me, thank goodness. I try to see his face from the corner of my eye. “Were you gonna let them mess with you?” I ask.
“Mess with me?”
“Yeah. They were gonna start shit and you were just gonna stand there, right?”
He doesn’t say a word as we cross the street and walk back toward our homes.
“You can’t walk around here thinking that you’re better than everybody else. These guys will put you in your place.”
“Is that a warning?” he asks.
“No. That’s good advice.” We reach the corner of his house, and I can tell that my sisters are pretending not to be watching us.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I can handle myself just fine.”
I laugh. “From what I can tell, you don’t know anything about street code.”
Now he looks at me dead-on. He’s not smiling. His jaw is not moving. So I stop laughing.
“Why? ’Cause of my clothes?”
“Come on, Darius. If a bunch of guys walk into the bodega, you gotta acknowledge them. A nod, a whassup, a dap. Something. Anything. You don’t just stand there and pretend they’re invisible. And if your boy’s name comes out their mouth, you gotta defend him. That’s street code.”
Now his jaw moves at the mention of Warren; he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He blinks and looks every which way.
He inhales deep and says, “Where can I get pencils around here?”
“You mean you don’t have no pencils in that big ol’ house? No office supplies? No things you need, like pencils?”
He inhales. “No.”
“Ay yo, Kayla!” I yell out to my sister across the street. “You got any pencils?”
Kayla immediately runs inside the house.
“Thanks,” Darius says.
“You draw or something?”
“Yeah. But I need a number-two pencil to take a practice test.”
“You’re in summer school?”
“No. SATs.” He’s not looking at me. He cocks his head back as if he’s annoyed that I’m still here with him. “Warren is in summer school. But you know that already, right?”
I raise my eyebrows, because that’s definitely shade thrown at Warren. “Yeah,” I lie. “So you’ve known him since the seventh grade, huh?”