The student behind the concession stand is watching our interaction the way someone would watch a wildlife documentary. The kind where the hyenas take down a giraffe. His expression is a mixture of expectation and pity. He knows what’s going to happen but he’s powerless to stop it, and part of him is a little bit excited to see the hyena take down her prey. He isn’t going to get between Heather Parker and one of her victims.
I could step on her. I could pick up one of my freakish legs and bring it down on her pretty little face and squash her like an insect. I imagine the scene comic-book style, playing out on my own personal projector, and it makes me smile.
Smiling is the wrong thing to do. Heather’s face flames red and she leans closer to me.
“What are you laughing at?” And she calls me something else – something worse than a word. The sound of it makes the person in line behind me, someone I don’t know, inhale sharply.
I flinch. I’ve got this word all over me too.
“Wing!” I look up and see my brother’s girlfriend, Monica, jogging toward me. Her long blond hair is streaming out behind her and she’s out of breath. “There you are! Your mama and grannies have gone home already and told me to tell you. They said you took too long getting the Cokes.”
She stops and takes in the scene. Heather standing right under my nose, the silent boy behind the register, the group of freshmen gawking and giggling next to us. The silent echo of what Heather just called me ringing in all our ears.
“You causing trouble, Parker?” Monica says, her voice dangerous sweet, like sugar laced with poison.
“Your daddy know where you goin’ tonight?” Heather shoots back. “I heard he doesn’t like who you’ve been hanging around with.”
Monica doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she smiles, lips pressed tight together, so tight they almost disappear, and grabs my hand. “Come on,” she says. “We don’t need to stick around with this trash.”
Heather looks like she’s winding up for another insult – I can hear the gears inside her clanking – but Monica is pulling me away, so fast and so far that whatever Heather yells out after us is eaten by the wind. I wish the wind would eat all of her.
“What is her problem with you?” says Monica when we’re almost out of the stadium. “You never done anything to her. You never done anything to anyone.”
I shrug. It doesn’t matter what I have or haven’t done. Heather Parker is one of those people who feeds on other people’s pain. It’s what keeps her skin so clear and her hair so shiny.
“Thanks for rescuing me back there.” I feel awkward saying it, but I want Monica to know that I appreciate her getting involved. She didn’t have to.
“Wing, baby girl, you’re family,” says Monica. “If anyone messes with you, they’re messing with me.” Her eyes soften, melting from the laser blue she was shooting at Heather to gentle blue, like laundry detergent.
I manage a smile. “Are y’all going out to celebrate?” I ask, changing the subject.
Monica shrugs. “There’s a party at Trey’s place, but I’m not in the mood,” she says lightly. I know there is more to it. Trey lives in a pretty dangerous part of town, even more so than where we live, and Monica doesn’t want to venture there at night, even with Marcus and Aaron by her side. “But I still wanna celebrate the win.”
Marcus and Aaron appear out of nowhere, emerging from the darkness and coming into sharp focus under the parking-lot lights. Marcus is shouting over his shoulder at another one of his teammates. “Nah, not tonight. I’ll make up for it next weekend!” He turns toward Aaron. “You go on, man. You don’t need to miss out because I’m not going.”
Aaron shakes his head. “Nah, Dionne will be there, and I’m not in the mood for her shit tonight.”
Dionne is Aaron’s ex-girlfriend. Even though they haven’t been together for over a year, Dionne still likes to start drama with Aaron. Especially when she’s been drinking. At least, that’s what Marcus says. I feel a sharp spike of jealousy mixed with relief. Jealous because Aaron is still so clearly tied up with Dionne. Relief because he doesn’t want to see her tonight.
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone else approaching. Someone I’ve seen around but don’t know well. Don’t want to know well. Someone who casts shadows everywhere he goes. He wears his Braves cap (with the big silver sticker circle still on it, just like all the rappers do) low, so low you can’t see his eyes. Just his sharp chin and soft mouth. His mouth doesn’t match the rest of him.
“What’s this? Our golden boys” – he steps on the word golden so that it comes out dull, not gold at all – “ain’t goin’ to the party? Ain’t gonna celebrate? But I got the goods for tonight myself. Just for my favorite cousin and his favorite little friend.”
No one else would call Marcus little. Monica takes a step closer to Marcus and I wish I had someone to take a step closer to. Jasper makes me nervous. Not just me. I can tell by the way Marcus has sewn his lips shut that Jasper makes him nervous too.