Knockout Games (18 page)

“Even boys. Especially boys.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm almost sixteen, Mom. I'm not a baby.”

She nodded. “I know. I was talking to your dad yesterday. I was thinking about inviting him here for Thanksgiving.”

“I wouldn't get my hopes up,” I said.

“I think he wants to come. He feels like he's missing out on your teen years too.”

I almost laughed. “He can have them.”

“Don't say that. I mean, I know it can be hard. There's no doubt, you wind up doing some crazy . . . stuff. You're going to mess up. That's almost your job as a teen, to mess up. It's
our
job to make sure you survive those years. He just wants to be involved.”

She didn't know the half of it. “I'll survive, Mom. You'll see.”

She stroked my hair. “I hope so.”

“Me too.”

After Mom went to sleep, it was almost 10:30. I sat on the couch, reminding myself that there was no way I was gonna go down to the library. No way she'd be bailing me out of jail tonight.

My heart jumped around like I'd just downed four Red Bulls. I tried breathing slowly, closing my eyes the way those yoga people do. Breathe in, breathe out. Let go.

Something skittered across the window like hard rain. I opened an eye. The sky was gray, but it wasn't raining.

I closed my eyes again. Something hit the window.

I got up to check it out. Peering down to the street, I saw Tyreese standing there by himself. He spotted me and waved me down. I shook my head, but he wouldn't leave. Finally, I opened the window.

“Come on; you gotta come!” he said, worried, maybe even scared.

“No, I'm staying,” I said as loud as I could without waking Mom. “You go.”

He shook his head, waved me down again. “Something's gonna happen. You gotta come!”

He was talking too loud. “Hold on.” I pocketed my camera like always, heading downstairs. When I opened the door to the front of the building, Tyreese was standing there. He had the face of a kid whose teddy bear was just stolen.

“Look, I can't go,” I told him. “I got a million things to do, and besides, they shouldn't even be out playing, there are too many eyes—”

He took three steps and wrapped his arms around me. “You gotta come, Fish. K's doin' something that ain't good.”

“What?” I asked. “What's going on?”

“Maybe you can stop him before he gets in too much trouble.”

I felt his tears soaking my shirt. “Tyreese, what's he gonna do?”

“He's going after the bullhorn man. I think he's gonna do something bad. Just come with me?”

Jesus. It's like he wants to get caught. Either that or Kalvin thinks he's invincible and he loves rubbing it in. “Is he at the library?”

He nodded. “Come on; he'll listen to you.”

I doubted that. But somebody had to do something.

27

We reached the library around eleven. The wind was picking up: you could almost feel a storm was coming. I threw up my hoodie and walked faster. We had passed a group of Watchers a few blocks back. Not a good sign.

Tyreese spotted Prince and five Tokers sitting on a bus bench from across the street. It was an odd scene—the skin-head Latino with five black kids. When Prince saw us coming, he gritted his teeth and nodded. “Yo, make way for the queen and her little
puto
! Good job, Tyreese.”

I looked at Tyreese, who grew quiet.

“What's going on? Where's Kalvin?”

Prince gestured toward the library just as Kalvin was making his way out. He paused when he saw me and walked calmly across the street, even though cars were coming. They honked and swerved out of the way, but he didn't care. He had his eyes on me.

“Well?” asked Prince.

“He's in there,” said Kalvin, his green eyes blazing bright.

“Who?” I asked.

He scowled and spat on the street. “Joe Lee, of course. He needs a little reminder of who runs this 'hood.”

It was like talking to a child. “Why are you being so stupid? He knows who you are,” I said, stating the obvious. “Why do you have to always push the line? It's so dumb.”

C-Jay piped up. “Don't call K dumb, bitch.”

Kalvin slapped him upside the head. “A little respect, Toker.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Things were getting too routine anyways. A little excitement gets the blood going. You know how it is.”

I did, but I wasn't proud of it.

Prince stared at Kalvin. “A rat's gotta be taken care of or next thing you know, there'll be a plague.”

Kalvin fist-bumped Prince. “He's in there. When he comes out, we'll give 'em a first-rate Knockout Game experience, courtesy of the King hisself.”

He kissed his fists and acted out a slow-motion pounding.

I moved in close and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He stopped his act and glared at me. He slowly exhaled, then took me by the arm and walked me over by a closed-down bakery.

“What?”

I had to choose my words carefully. “I thought the main rule of the Knockout Game was to pick a totally random stranger.”

He nodded. “It is. But sometimes you have to send a message that outsiders shouldn't interfere. They need to know we can't be stopped.”

“Well, then it's not really a game, is it?” I whispered so the Tokers wouldn't hear.

He shrugged. “It's all a game, don't you know that? School. Work. Life. We're all being played by someone. Might as well be a
playa
than be
played
, ya feel me?”

“I know you're smarter than that. Why can't you just stop? I mean, what's the big deal?”

I pointed out how all his boys were awaiting his word. They'd do anything he asked.

“Well the thing is . . .” he started to say. “I saw this TV show once about sharks. It said that they can never stop moving ‘cause they need oxygen to keep flowing through their gills or something. That means if they stop, they die.”

“So, what, you're the shark? If you stop attacking people, you'll die?” I asked, unconvinced.

He bit his lip, his eyes studying me carefully. “Look.” He held up his fists. “Knockout King. That's who I am. That's all I ever been good at. And I'm fine with that. I'm not gonna go to college and do something big. I don't want to waste time flipping burgers, so I'm doing this. It keeps me sharp.”

“Kalvin—” my brain was reeling. “I think . . . there's a good person . . . inside of you. You can change—”

“What are you, one of those white movie characters trying to save the black guy from wasting his life away? Fuck that. I don't wanna change; don't you get it?” He held me by the shoulders so he could look me straight in the eyes. “You. Can't. Change. Me. I come as is. I accept that. So should you.” He paused a moment, waiting to see if I'd say anything.

I had seen enough. “I'm sorry, then. I can't do this anymore. I thought I meant something to you.”

“Hold on,” he said. He seemed puzzled. When I began to walk away, he just said, “You do. ‘Course you do. But these are two different things.”

“No, they're not. You were with me because of TKO. Because I had a camera. Because I knocked someone out. But that's not me. I'm not that person. And if this is the real you—then I'm out.”

“Out? Out of what?” he asked.

“Everything,” I said.

He squared himself. “You can't just leave.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He took a step toward me. “Because you can't.” His body was all tensed up.

“Or what? You going to
hit me
?”

He blinked, almost surprised by the idea. He licked his lips as he considered it, but then he softened his stance. “Don't be like this. I like having you around me. I need you here. Just . . . play along, will ya?” He reached out and gently took my hand in his, staring at the bruises. “I know you have doubts,” he said. “I know that. It's cool. You're looking out for me and the Tokers, and you want what's best. I see that.” He nodded as if trying to convince himself. “But what you don't see is . . . they got us pegged, the cops. Even if we did nothing, they'd always be stopping us, blaming us for this or that.
You
don't know what that's like. They don't stop a white girl, make you get on your knees, cuff you in front of your own home.”

“That's just an excuse. How many times has that happened to you, really?”

“Enough.” He made a funny noise in his throat, like he swallowed something that he didn't like. “Ask my moms. The last time they hassled me, Mom was there and they made her get on the ground, spread out on the sidewalk, a knee in her neck, just to get me riled enough to throw a punch. That was the one time I didn't, 'cause I knew they'd go to town on me. After that, I decided to play by my own rules.” He paused thoughtfully. “I just want to be with you.” He was still holding on to my hand. He placed it on his chest. “Feel that? That's my heart racin'. That's you.” He put his hand over my heart. “Yours too.”

“The difference is, yours beats fast because you like the hunt. Mine beats because I know something's wrong here.”

His eyes grew darker. I could see the disappointment. “Fine. Then you might as well take that camera of yours and give the cops what they want. I mean, if you don't want to be with me anymore, why not?”

He was testing me. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Go on, take it out,” he said.

I put my hand on my hoodie pocket and he knew I had it on me. He simply reached over and helped me pull it out. He turned it on and pressed Record.

He held up my arm so the camera aimed at him. I wanted to leave, but part of me wanted him to confess everything. Maybe this was the way to stop him. To save him from himself. And to save Joe Lee too.

“Yo, everybody. Knockout King at your service. 'Bout to go deliver some justice. Them's my boys back here, awaiting my word. Ain't that right?” he asked me. He dropped his hand and started walking. “Come on, let's get on with it.”

I couldn't help it; I followed him. I had to see what was going to happen. Maybe the camera would actually
prevent
him from doing something bad. He could always blame my presence as a way to save face. And if that didn't work, I could warn Joe what was coming.

Prince whistled and pointed toward the library. “
Orale
. They're leaving.”

“What do you mean,
they
?” I asked.

“Him and his bitch. It's like a twofer one,” he said excited.

We all spotted the couple at the same time, their backs turned to us, walking away. It was only then that I knew Mrs. Lee was in for it too.

“Kalvin, that's Mrs. Lee,” I said panicking.

“So? She knew what she was getting into when she hooked up with him.”

“But she's my teacher,” I said.

Kalvin looked at me in disbelief. “Yeah, well, she's also the one that expelled me from school.”

“Bullshit. That's Mr. Jamison's job.” I stared him down. “And it's not like you want to go back anyways.”

“She was behind it. She's not innocent.”

He was serious. I pointed the camera at him. “So what are you gonna do then, Kalvin?” I asked.

“Be a shark,” Kalvin said. His eyes were blazing, the green in them almost glowing. He gestured to the Tokers and they all got up and started across the street toward Mrs. Lee and Joe as they turned down the alley—just another couple walking home from the library.

The hairs on my neck rose; my muscles tensed up. I had to warn them. Kalvin and the crew sped up, leaving me a few steps behind so I got cut off by a couple of passing cars. By the time I reached the other side, they were moving faster and faster down the bleak alley—an army about to charge the hill.

Next thing I knew, Kalvin was sprinting like the cheetahs he watched on TV. I opened my mouth to yell something, but my throat closed up tight and all I managed was a weak, “No!”

It all happened so fast. Kalvin leapt into the air and his fist came crashing down into the back of Joe's neck. The man tumbled, his bag of books went flying. Kalvin's muscled body landed right on him and he made sure it hurt. He tumbled off Joe's body, but got right back and slammed him in the kidney. Mrs. Lee stood in shock, shoved aside by Prince, who landed a few kicks of his own at Joe.

I somehow got closer than I'd planned—right in the middle of the action. I saw Kalvin get right up into Joe's ear, almost choking him, hissing, “Didn't your mother ever tell you if you can't say something nice about someone, you should just shut the fuck up?” He was about to deliver his final knockout when Mrs. Lee came out of nowhere. She shoved me out of the way, spraying pepper spray right into Kalvin's eyes, screaming out of control. Prince jumped at her, but he got it in the eyes too. Suddenly, they were both down, cursing and shouting, “Get that bitch!”