DIEGO RAMONE HAD BEEN kicked out of the fake 7-Eleven in Montgomery County that afternoon by a guy, looked like some kind of Punjabi to him, who worked behind the counter. He could have been a Pakistani or even one of those Shiites. Dude had a turban on his head, was all Diego knew.
“Get out,” the man had said. “I don’t want you in here.”
Diego had been with his friend Toby. Toby was topped by a black skully, and both wore their jeans low and had drawstring-style bags on their backs. Diego had wanted to get a Sierra Mist before he got on the bus headed back to the District.
“Wanna buy a soda,” said Diego.
“I don’t want your money,” said the man, pointing to the door. “Out!”
Diego and Toby had hard-eyed the man for a moment and left the store.
Out on the sidewalk, on the avenue lined with apartment houses, Toby held up both of his fists and affected a boxer’s stance. “I shoulda introduced him to thunder and lightning.”
“You notice he didn’t come around the counter.”
“He was a bitch,” said Toby.
It wasn’t the first time Diego had been tossed from a store for being young and black. He’d been rousted by the police here, too. This city had its own force, and they were known to break hard on kids who lived or hung down by the apartments. One weekend night Diego and Shaka were walking home from a party when a couple of squad cars came up on them. The officers inside the cars jumped out and shook the two of them down. They were put up against one of the cars and searched. Their pockets were turned inside out. One of the officers, a young white dude named O’Shea, had taunted Shaka, telling him to go ahead and say one thing out of line, just one thing. O’Shea said that he’d really like it if Shaka would lip off to him, but he figured he wouldn’t, because Shaka was soft. Diego knew that Shaka, who could go with his hands for real, could have taken this man in a fight. But they kept their words to themselves, as Diego’s father had told them to do when dealing with police, and let it pass.
The next morning, when Regina went to the station to complain, she was told that Diego and Shaka had fit the description of two young men who had stolen a car earlier that night. “The exact description?” said Regina. “Or was it just two black youths?”
That night, Diego heard his parents discussing the incident.
“They’re scarecrows,” said Ramone, his term for fake police.
“I do not like that neighborhood,” said Regina. “With the bumper stickers on their cars.”
“ ‘Celebrate Diversity,’ ” said Ramone. “Unless diversity is walking down your street on a Saturday night.”
Diego and Toby went along the strip near Toby’s building.
“They gonna talk to you tomorrow,” said Toby.
“Who is?” said Diego.
“Miss Brewster, I guess,” said Toby. “Mr. Guy said they doin an investigation. They prob’ly lookin to throw me out of school, ’cause the parents of that boy I stole are making all kinds of noise. I might get expelled this time or sent up that school they got for problem kids.”
“That was a fair fight.”
“I know it. But they lookin for evidence so they can toss my ass. My father’s Kirkin out over that bullshit. He wants to sue the school.”
“My father’s mad at that school, too,” said Diego.
“You ain’t gonna say nothin to Brewster and Mr. Guy, right?”
“Nah, dawg, we’re straight.” They pounded fists. “See you at practice.”
“All right, then.”
Diego walked toward the bus stop, looking back at the fake 7-Eleven. Thing was, he and Toby had shoplifted a candy bar or two out of that place in days past. But the dude with the turban didn’t know that. How was he gonna discriminate?
At the bus stop, Diego got a call from his mother.
“Where are you?” said Regina.
“About to get on the twelve. I’ll probably stop at the courts, shoot around some. I got practice tonight.”
“Do you have homework?”
“I did it in study hall,” said Diego. He had done half of his homework, so it was only half a lie.
“Don’t be long,” said Regina.
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom,” said Diego in a real low voice, so the guy sitting in the bus shelter next to him could not hear.
Just about then, the Ride On rolled up and came to a stop. Diego boarded the bus.
RAMONE PHONED REGINA AND told her he’d be out for a while longer. He asked about Alana and Diego, and she told him that Alana was up in her room and Diego was playing basketball over by Coolidge. Ramone was in the neighborhood, so he drove over to the courts.
Diego saw him first. His head came up as he heard the sound of the Tahoe approaching, recognizing the way it cried on its shocks. Diego was in the middle of a two-on-two, him and Shaka against the Spriggs twins, Ronald and Richard losing as usual and talking smack about their opponents and their relatives like they tended to do. Earlier, they had discussed Asa and speculated about his murder. The Spriggs boys had seen him that day, as had Diego and Shaka. No one knew a thing about the killing, but they wanted to talk. All of them felt some guilt, as in the last year or so they had turned their backs on Asa to varying degrees. In truth, he had turned away from them, too. Still, it just hurt. They considered themselves to be tough city kids, but this was the first of their childhood friends who had met death.
Gus Ramone walked up to the courts. With his Ray-Ban aviators, his dark blue suit and rep tie, and his black mustache, he looked every inch a cop. He shook Shaka’s hand and said hello to Ronald and Richard, correctly identifying them by name, though they were identical twins. He could tell the difference because Ronald had more playful, intelligent eyes. He’d known this group of Diego’s friends for ten years, going back to when they were little boys.
Ramone put his arm around Diego’s shoulders and the two of them drifted down to the street. Diego returned to the court a few minutes later, and Ramone got in the Tahoe and drove off.
“Detective Ramone,” said Shaka. “Man looked serious today.”
“Thought he was gonna take you down to the station, somethin,” said Ronald Spriggs.
“What he want?” said Richard.
He told me to get home before dark. He asked me how school went today. He told me he loves me. The same way my mom always does before she hangs up the phone.
“Nothing much,” said Diego to Richard. “He just told me to beat you Bamas to within an inch of your lives.”
“Your mother’s a Bama,” said Ronald.
Diego said, “Lemme see that rock.”