Jumped In (8 page)

Esteemed Poets of Room 108,

More rules-driven poetry. “Ah, man!” I hear ya! Quit yer whinin'! This is fun, people. Here's the deal: If you're feeling a little bored with your poetry, and you need a little creative pick-me-up, try out this nine-line poem called the
nonet
! The nonet has nine syllables in the first line. Each line that follows has one fewer syllable, until you get to the final line, which has only one. It may or may not rhyme. That's up to you. Go crazy, kids! Try one out right now!

Sincerely,

Ms. Cassidy

9   
Cannot think straight right now, Cassidy

8   
You got my head spinning crazy

7   
This is new territory

6   
Could you back off a bit?

5   
I just need to breathe

4   
Get used to this

3   
Attention

2   
On me,

1   
Please?

 

UNAFFILIATED

I
'M SITTING ON THE
M
ETRO BUS
,
TALKING TO
C
ARLOS FUCKING
D
ÍAZ
.

No, Carlos is doing all the talking.

It's what I get for not walking home.

This bus goes way down to main street Des Moines, down by the water. It takes me home the long way. Takes forever. I just wanted to stay dry on a piss rainy day, that's all. Just wanted a change of scenery.

But what I got was Carlos planting his ass next to me. And as usual, he's got Luis on his mind.

And just like everyone else, he acts like Luis and I are buds.

I tell him we're not.

He doesn't listen. He just goes off, agitated, real concerned-sounding. Like he's searching for answers. He tells me all this shit about how Luis's dad got shot in a drive-by when Luis was little. He says Luis's brother, Rubén, got jumped in not long after that and he's been in and out of juvie and real jail ever since. And he's probably killed a few guys.

Carlos stops talking and looks at raindrops running down the window. “It's why I can't figure this shit out. Those old-school dudes and his brother and cousins got Luis surrounded three sixty. Nobody really wants in the life, but man, it's in the air you breathe. It's in the water you drink. If you try to escape it … it's like fighting gravity. You can't do it. The force is too strong.”

He looks at me as if I might have something to say about all this.

I don't have a fucking clue.

“Nobody seen Luis runnin' with nobody. Everybody got their eye on him, but nobody even knows if he got jumped in yet. Nobody knows if he's affiliated. And he don't talk to nobody, so…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if he ain't affiliated, dude has got to get it done.
Callado's
a player from player blood. Everybody wants a piece of him. So if Flaco ain't got him runnin' with Sixteenth Street by now, then Deacons, Mafia, MS13, whatever … they all gonna come after him. And when they claim him or jump him in, who knows what insane shit Flaco gonna pull?”

Carlos looks at me like a life depends on what he's about to say. “I ain't gonna be in school for a couple days. You tell Luis I got his back. Tell him if he knows what's good, he gonna get his shit rollin'.”

I don't know what to say.

“You on that for me?” He reaches up and pulls the cord for the driver to stop.

Carlos mistakes my shaking for a yes. “You okay, you know that?” He holds his fist out for a pound.

The bus comes to a stop and the driver yells, “Hey kid, this your stop, right?”

I want this to be over, so I pound him.

He takes off and I just sit there with my head on the window. I'm shaking like a jackhammer, wondering what Carlos's deal is. Wondering about Luis. Wondering what the hell is going on.

 

THREE WORDS

B
ACK IN
C
ASSIDY'S CLASS
.

I glance over at Luis.

He's looking straight ahead. Ready to take on whatever Cassidy is about to dish out.

I don't say
hey
to him.

I think about his psychotic smirking the other day. I think about everything Carlos said about Luis. And what he told me to say to him.

This is Luis
's
life. These are
his
choices. This is his deal. If people start coming after him, like Carlos said they would? That's on him.

I have nothing to do with it.

So I'm sticking to my plan. I'm not gonna say a word.

I turn toward Cassidy and sit up to show her I'm paying attention.

She says, “Listen up, y'alls. This is big. Poetry is written to be performed, so on March 8—three Fridays from now—we'll be turning the classroom into a
bohemian
café, and everyone—
Do you hear this, Luisandsam?—everyone
will be performing their brilliant work in the class poetry slam.”

Does she seriously think we'd write a stupid poem for her?

I feel a tap on my shoulder.

It's Luis.

He hands me a tiny scrap of paper with writing on it.

It says
We're doing this.

I look at him.

He doesn't look back. He stays in position.

I look at the note again.

We're doing this?

We're,
as in we're both doing this separately? Or
we're,
as in we're doing this together? I look at him again. He nods in a way that says he wants to do this project
with me.

I'm getting sick. I'm boiling over.

We're doing this?

I'm not doing this.

If I could speak right now, I'd tell Luis,
You scare the shit out of me. There is no fucking way. Why aren't you a normal gangbanger—the kind that wouldn't be caught dead doing a fucking poetry slam? Why do you think I'd speak in front of this class? I hate these people. I can't stand Cassidy. And what about all that shit McClean and Carlos say about you? What would make you think I'd want anything to do with you?

The bell rings. I fly out of there.

I puke in the nurse's office and she sends me home.

 

BIG FAT STUPID JOKE

I
T'S
M
ONDAY
. I have a plan. I'm gonna go to school. I'm gonna hold my shit together and not show Luis my fear. I'll tell him thanks, but no thanks. I'll be firm, but polite. And that will be the end of that.

The second I see him in class, I get a new plan.
Ignore Luis and hope the whole thing goes away.

When I sit, he says
hey.
But he doesn't say one word about the slam.

Tuesday, I come to class shaking. I know this is it. He's gonna say something.

Nothing.

Wednesday.

He says
hey
again, just like any other day. No mention of poetry.

Thursday.

Nothing.

I finally figure out what that note from Luis had been: a joke.

Luis's idea of a joke.

I'm a dumbass for ever thinking he'd want to do
anything
in school, let alone recite some fairy poetry.

I'm relieved as hell.

I quit worrying about getting shot in a drive-by … or worse, having McClean call my grandparents.

Thank God.

 

THE ONLY WAY

F
RIDAY
I
HEAD TO CLASS
knowing I can forget about Luis's
we're doing this
bullshit and focus on bracing myself against Cassidy and her
Luisandsam
crap.

I take my seat. He's already there, in statue mode.

He gives the classroom a quick scan.

Then he leans in to me—dead serious—and he whispers, “Meet me after school. We'll walk over to my place and write the poem there. We'll have the weekend to get it on paper and two weeks to rehearse. The only way I'm doing this is if we completely kick ass on the eighth. It's the only way.”

“Okay.”

Okay?

As soon as the word tumbles out, blood rushes to my head and I'm squeezing a dry heave.

“You all right?” he asks.

I hold my stomach and lean my head on my desk. I barely get out an “uh-huh.”

“I'll see you after school then,” he says.

 

SCARED

I
DO IT
.

I meet him after school.

I go because I'm too scared not to.

But being scared is only 99 percent of the reason why I join Luis after school.

The other 1 percent doesn't have much to do with fear at all.

The 1 percent is made up of the following:

a) I'm bored.

b) Too many old people.

c) Curiosity.

Let's take these in order:

For starters, I'm so bored I can't stand it. I gotta
do
something! This is the first time I've felt like doing anything in forever. And that's huge, because my level of boredom has been unprecedented. I've been so bored I don't feel like anything can be
not
boring. Eating, watching TV, going fishing … even listening to Nirvana.

I know there's more to life than this pile of blah and sometimes I convince myself to get out there and look for it. But I just can't make the move. I can't start.

I can't begin to start trying.

Until now.

I don't know why. I don't know what it is, but there's this little piece of me that wants to do something about it.

To try and get my ass moving.