“Damn, it’s like that?”
“What she means is thanks for helping us out,” Seven says, even though that’s not what I meant. “We appreciate it.”
“It’s all good. Them fools running around here ’cause the riots happening on their side. It’s too hot for them over there.”
“What you doing in the park this early anyway?” Seven asks.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Posted up. You know how it go.”
He’s a d-boy. Damn, Kenya really knows how to pick them. Anytime drug-dealing gangbangers are your type, you’ve got some serious issues. Well, King is her daddy.
“I heard about your brother,” Seven says. “I’m sorry, man. Dalvin was a cool dude.”
DeVante kicks at a pebble on the court. “Thanks. Mom’s taking it real hard. That’s why I’m here. Had to get out the house.”
Dalvin? DeVante? I tilt my head. “Your momma named y’all after them dudes from that old group Jodeci?” I only know because my parents love them some Jodeci.
“Yeah, so?”
“It was just a question. You don’t have to have an attitude.”
A white Tahoe screeches to a stop on the other side of the fence. Daddy’s Tahoe.
His window rolls down. He’s in a wifebeater and pillow marks zigzag across his face. I pray he doesn’t get out because knowing Daddy his legs are ashy and he’s wearing Nike flip-flops with socks. “What the hell y’all thinking, leaving the house without telling nobody?” he yells.
The King Lords across the street bust out laughing. DeVante coughs into his fist like he wants to laugh too. Seven and I look at everything but Daddy.
“Oh, y’all wanna act like y’all don’t hear me? Answer me when I’m talking to you!”
The King Lords howl with laughter.
“Pops, we just came to play ball,” Seven says.
“I don’t care. All this shit going on, and y’all leave? Get in this truck!”
“Goddamn,” I say under my breath. “Always gotta act a fool.”
“What you say?” he barks.
The King Lords howl louder. I wanna disappear.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nah, it was something. Tell you what, don’t climb the fence. Go round to the entrance. And I bet’ not beat y’all there.”
He drives off.
Shit.
I grab my ball, and Seven and I haul ass across the park. The last time I ran this fast, Coach was making us do suicides. We get to the entrance as Daddy pulls up. I climb in the back of the truck, and Seven’s dumb butt gets in the passenger seat.
Daddy drives off. “Done lost y’all minds,” he says. “People rioting, damn near calling the National Guard around here, and y’all wanna play ball.”
“Why you have to embarrass us like that?” Seven snaps.
I’m so glad I’m in the backseat. Daddy turns toward Seven, not even looking at the road, and growls, “You ain’t too old.”
Seven stares ahead. Steam is just about coming off him.
Daddy looks at the road again. “Got some goddamn nerve talking to me like that ’cause some King Lords were laughing at you. What, you Kinging now?”
Seven doesn’t respond.
“I’m talking to you, boy!”
“No, sir,” he bites out.
“So why you care what they think? You wanna be a man so damn bad, but men don’t care what nobody thinks.”
He pulls into our driveway. Not even halfway up the walkway I see Momma through the screen on the door in her nightgown, her arms folded and her bare foot tapping.
“Get in this house!” she shouts.
She paces the living room as we come in. The question isn’t if she’ll explode but when.
Seven and I sink onto her good sofa.
“Where were y’all?” she asks. “And you better not lie.”
“The basketball court,” I mumble, staring at my J’s.
Momma leans down close to me and puts her hand to her ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear you good.”
“Speak up, girl,” Daddy says.
“The basketball court,” I repeat louder.
“The basketball court.” Momma straightens up and laughs. “She said the basketball court.” Her laughter stops, and her voice gets louder with each word. “I’m walking around here, worried out my mind, and y’all at the damn basketball court!”
Somebody giggles in the hallway.
“Sekani, go to your room!” Momma says without looking that way. His feet thump hurriedly down the hall.
“I hollered and told y’all we were leaving,” I say.
“Oh, she hollered,” Daddy mocks. “Did you hear anybody holler, baby? ’Cause I didn’t.”
Momma sucks her teeth. “Neither did I. She can wake us up to ask for some money, but she can’t wake us up to tell us she’s going in a war zone.”
“It’s my fault,” Seven says. “I wanted to get her out the house and do something normal.”
“Baby, there’s no such thing as normal right now!” says Momma. “You see what’s been happening. And y’all were crazy enough to go out there like that?”
“Dumb enough is more like it,” Daddy adds.
I keep my eyes on my shoes.
“Hand over your phones,” Momma says.
“What?” I shriek. “That’s not fair! I hollered and told y’all—”
“Starr Amara,” she says through her teeth. Since my first name is only one syllable, she has to throw my middle name in there to break it down. “If you don’t hand me that phone, I swear to God.”
I open my mouth, but she goes, “Say something else! I dare you, say something else! I’ll take all them Jordans too!”
This is some bullshit. For real. Daddy watches us; her attack dog, waiting for us to make a wrong move. That’s how they work. Momma does the first round, and if it’s not successful, Daddy goes for the KO. And you never want Daddy to go for the KO.
Seven and I hand her our phones.
“I thought so,” she says, and passes them to Daddy. “Since y’all want ‘normal’ so much, go get your stuff. We’re going to Carlos’s for the day.”
“Nah, not him.” Daddy motions Seven to get up. “He going to the store with me.”
Momma looks at me and jerks her head toward the hall. “Go. I oughta make you take a shower, smelling like outside.” As I’m leaving, she hollers, “And don’t get any skimpy stuff to wear to Carlos’s either!”
Ooh, she gets on my nerves. See, Chris lives down the street from Uncle Carlos. I am glad she didn’t say any more in front of Daddy though.
Brickz meets me at my bedroom door. He jumps up my legs and tries to lick my face. I had about forty shoe boxes stacked in a corner, and he knocked all of them over.
I scratch behind his ears. “Clumsy dog.”
I would take him with us, but they don’t allow pits in Uncle Carlos’s neighborhood. He settles on my bed and watches me pack. I only really need my swimsuit and some sandals, but Momma could decide to stay out there the whole weekend because of the riots. I pack a couple of outfits and get my school backpack. I throw each backpack over a shoulder. “C’mon, Brickz.”
He follows me to his spot in the backyard, and I hook him up to his chain. While I refill Brickz’s food and water bowls, Daddy crouches beside his roses and examines the petals. He waters them like he’s supposed to, but for some reason they’re dry looking.
“C’mon, now,” he tells them. “Y’all gotta do better than this.”
Momma and Sekani wait for me in her Camry. I end up in the passenger’s seat. It’s childish, but I don’t wanna sit this close to her right now. Unfortunately it’s either sit next to her or next to Sir-Farts-a-Lot Sekani. I’m staring straight ahead, and out the corner of my eye I see her looking at me. She makes this sound like she’s about to speak, but her words decide to come out as a sigh.
Good. I don’t wanna talk to her either. I’m being petty as hell and don’t even care.
We head for the freeway, passing the Cedar Grove projects, where we used to live. We get to Magnolia Avenue, the busiest street in Garden Heights, where most of the businesses are located. Usually on Saturday mornings, guys around the neighborhood have their cars on display, cruising up and down the street and racing each other.