Knockout Games (20 page)

They backed away, muttering “Dykes!” as they headed back to their den.

“Thanks for nothing,” I said to Destiny's back.

“You a big girl. Looked like you could handle yourself.”

I had a comeback. But I swallowed it. “I need your help,” I said instead.

“You sure about that?”

“Please?” I asked.

She took a few steps, then stopped and turned. She looked me over. “You look like shit.”

I glanced at my torn clothes. There was blood on my shoe.

She sighed. “Come on.”

“No,” I said. “We have to go to the library.”

I could tell by her reaction that she'd heard something. She didn't question me, just nodded. “Let's go this way.”

We walked away from the boys and headed down an alley. I stopped her. “No alleys.”

The alley was empty and overgrown. “I told you to stay away.” So she did hear. “Where were you? Prince said you were gonna be there.”

“Shit, and you believed him? He was just playing you.” She quickly walked down another street toward Grand Avenue.

I had to catch up. “Destiny, are we still friends? I'm sorry if I . . . did something I wasn't supposed to.”

“You sleep with him, shit happens. Did he use that
I usually carry a condom
line?” She stopped when she saw the look on my face. She sighed, pulled me along by the arm. “Forget it. It's just . . . me. You were just being yourself and I guess I got a little jealous.”

“Of me? I'm nobody.”

She shook her head. “You ain't nobody. You
my
Fish, remember?”

“I wasn't gonna go along this morning, but he just . . . I don't know.”

“He knows how to push your buttons and get you to do what he wants,” she said like she'd experienced it many times herself. “Shit, the things he had me do. It's fucked up.”

Like what
? I thought.

“I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this,” she said. “I don't know what I was thinking. I just didn't want to be the only girl in the crew anymore. . . .” She drifted off, deep in thought.

“It doesn't matter now,” I told her, burying my head in her shoulder. “I got big problems.”

She eased up, came to a stop again. “So it's true,” she said, looking me dead in the eyes. “Prince texted me that some woman died, but I thought he was just full of shit.”

“It was Mrs. Lee!”

It took her a few seconds to process that. “What?” she whispered.

“I didn't know she was going to be there. It was Kalvin's fault—”

“Are you sure she's . . .?” she asked.

I buried my head in my hands.

She paced back and forth a few times. “I never liked her, but still—that's sooo messed up.”

I had to say it. “I recorded the attack.”

She made a face like she didn't want to hear any more. “After all a that, you still went ahead—”

“No, that's not the worst part.”

“What? What could be worse than that?”

I gathered my thoughts. “When she grabbed me, I. . . dropped my camera. It's . . . still there.”

She froze. “And the whole thing . . . is on that camera?”

“Yes.”

“Girl. You
are
fucked.”

We stood there in silence, heaviness in the air.

“Shit, Fish, come on,” she started walking again. “It can't get much worse, so we might as well try to get your stupid camera back.”

I hurried after her, afraid of what we might find when we got there.

30

As soon as I saw the crowd surrounding the crime scene, I knew it was over. There was just no way we could sneak in there now.

Only a few hours had passed. The alley was taped off. They had to have collected the evidence by now. Maybe my camera was here somewhere and hadn't been carted off yet. Maybe no one had noticed its content yet or figured out who the players were.

A couple of local news teams were getting ready to do an update. There were two things going on in my head. I wanted to find that camera and I needed to know if she'd survived. There was a big difference between assault and murder.

The reporters had to know something. I tried to listen in to what they were talking about, but it was only about makeup and lighting.

My eyes scanned the scene for some kind of evidence box. On TV, the cops always put each bit of evidence into a plastic bag and then into some kind of evidence box usually marked with big stenciled letters spelling EVIDENCE.

I was waiting to hear the reporter go live, but Destiny recognized another girl from school and dragged me toward the crowd.

“What's goin' on?” she asked the girl.

The girl was wearing a shower cap and taking pictures with her phone. “Ain't you heard?”

Destiny rolled her eyes. “Now how would I have heard anything if I just got here?”

The girl looked around, then whispered. “Some couple got jacked but word is, it wasn't no accident.”

“What do you know?” Destiny asked.

The girl pointed to the back of the library which lined the alley. My eyes traveled up and saw it: a surveillance camera.

Fucked again.

“You don't look so good, girl,” she said to me.

“She's sick,” said Destiny. “You saying they ID'd someone?”

She shrugged again. “I just heard 'em talking. I kept hearing the word
knockout
and I thought of your boy K. But you don't know nothing about that, do you?”

Destiny was about to deliver some major attitude when a bright light lit up the scene. I turned to see an Asian reporter counting down as she stood in front of the camera with her mic.

“Three, two, one . . . Tragedy struck here outside this Tower Grove branch library when a couple was brutally attacked this morning after exiting the library. The woman is reportedly in critical condition after a traumatic head wound left her comatose and bleeding heavily. There are no known witnesses, but detectives suspect this maybe one of the so-called Knockout Games that have plagued this area in recent years—”

The reporter paused, putting her finger up to her earpiece. She nodded gravely, like someone was talking to her. “It has just been confirmed that the woman who was attacked here in the scene you see behind me has died.”

The light from the camera was burning a hole in my skull. The reporter's mouth kept talking, but no sounds reached my ear except for the scream coming out of my mouth.

Destiny grabbed me and quickly pulled me from the crowd, hustling me away from the cops and the cameras. It was murder now.

I was gonna be sick.

We headed toward the library door. I didn't make it. I puked into the bushes.

I didn't care if anyone saw me. Some things you can't control.

Destiny held my hair back. “We gotta get off the street, Erica,” she whispered in my ear. “We gotta get you inside—”

She stopped talking, then I heard a man behind us say, “She OK?”

Destiny's hand tensed up. “She . . . she never seen blood before. She's from Arkansas.”

I hurled one more time.

“Yeah,” said the man. “I never get used to it either.”

I spat and glanced back. An older black man in a suit. A badge on his belt. It was Rodney Graves, the cop who came to our school.

Destiny stroked my back. “I should get her inside so she can clean up. Come on, girl, let's go.” She helped me to my feet. I didn't want to look at the cop because then I might
really
lose it. I swore I was never coming to this library again.

Destiny guided me to the front door, Graves watching us the whole way through his sunglasses. “Come on, we're almost there,” she whispered.

We walked inside, past a pasty white security guard who looked like he should have been retired. He took notice of my sickly appearance.

“She's not feeling well,” said Destiny, and we immediately hustled downstairs to the bathroom.

“If they have a recording of me from two different sources, then I'm dead.” I was gasping for breath.

“Just shut up till we get in the bathroom,” she said. She spotted a family restroom and she got me inside, locking the door behind us.

I washed my face off and looked at myself in the mirror. Then it hit me. I was still wearing the same clothes from this morning.

“Shit.” I tore off my jacket and stuffed it into the trash can.

“What are you doing?”

I took off my shirt. “Switch with me.”

“I ain't giving you my shirt!”

I wasn't gonna negotiate. “If they see a white girl wearing a blue hoodie with a yellow T-shirt in the video and that person is still at the library, guess what happens next?”

We switched shirts.

“Give me your pants,” she said.

“I can't fit in your pants,” I said.

“Bullshit. Have you seen my butt?”

We switched pants but I had a hell of a time squeezing into hers. “You gonna watch or help?”

She helped me into the pants, but I could barely walk.

“Dang, girl. Well, they sayin' tight jeans is all the rage. I guess you're ragin'.” She checked me out, then took off her cap and put it on me. “Gotta cover that red mop; it's a dead giveaway.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. “It's not really me.”

“Jailhouse orange suit you better?”

I kept the hat on. We slowly went upstairs again but spotted a group of cops talking in front of the building. The security cop was there too. That was the only exit, so we headed back to the teen area to wait them out. No adults allowed.

We found a corner, hidden behind a row of bookshelves.

I couldn't help it. I started crying again.

Destiny held my arm. “Keep it together,” she whispered.

I wiped my face with my sleeve. “There's no way we're gonna find that camera. And when they see that, they'll find me. What am I going to do?”

“Maybe you dropped the camera somewhere else, while you were running away? Do you remember losing it for sure?”

It was all a haze. “I remember looking at both my hands because there was blood on them.”

Destiny watched the scene unfolding outside the window in the alley. “But did you see it fall?”

“I think so.”

“Well, let's pretend they haven't found it. That leaves the surveillance camera, which is on the corner of the building. You guys were walking away from it.”

“We can't pretend, Destiny.”

That didn't stop her. “So maybe it saw only your backs, not your faces. What happened, happened down aways, right? Maybe the camera didn't see it.”

I put my head in my hands. “I hate this.”

When I looked up, Rodney Graves was standing about ten feet away, studying us closely. “I'm collecting statements. Something tells me maybe you saw something I should know about. Am I right?”

My mouth went dry. Destiny didn't move.

I did the first thing I could think of.

I ran.

31

Rodney Graves might be too old to run, but he'd radio the other cops and they'd be right on my ass. I ran and didn't look back. Away from the crime scene, down Grand Avenue, trying not to act suspicious as I sprinted for my life. Just an everyday jogger . . . dressed in tight jeans.

There were Mrs. Lee's Eyez posted everywhere around the library. And they were all looking at me, like she was still alive. I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there. I took another left and saw my escape: a bus. I frantically waved as the door was closing.

The driver frowned, but opened the door back up for me.

“Thanks,” I said, totally out of breath. There was enough change in the pants pocket to pay the fare. I ducked down in my seat and waited for a squadron of police to charge the bus. But the bus pulled out and no one else came after me.

Destiny would be fucked. This'd definitely get her a Level 6. They probably had her locked in some interrogation room, doing the whole good cop/bad cop thing. She was tough, but could she stand up to them?

I thought about just taking this bus out of town all the way back to my dad in Little Rock. I'd cross state lines and buy some time. Since he was a bail bondsman, maybe he could get me a good lawyer. Or at least arrange bail.

I knew I could cross the river into East St. Louis and Illinois. But Arkansas? I dug into my pockets. Five bucks. That wouldn't get me far.

The bus was headed downtown. As soon as we turned up Seventh Street, I saw the Gateway Arch looming up ahead. The clouds were breaking up, so the Arch caught the sun, a giant silver horseshoe against a cold gray sky.

I needed to clear my head, to get perspective. I kept staring at that Arch and decided I'd finally go up to the top of it before they locked me away forever. It would buy me some time, and maybe seeing the world from that height would help me figure out what to do.

If not, I could always jump.

About fifteen minutes later, I got off the bus at the park that surrounds the Arch. I thought about calling someone who could loan me some cash. But the only person I could think of was Mom—that wouldn't fly.

The only other person was Kalvin.

That made my stomach hurt, which made me think about the possibility that I was carrying Kalvin's baby. It was just one more terrible thing to consider.

I sat down in the park under the Arch and tried to think. My whole situation seemed so hopeless. But somehow, sitting there, watching families running around on the grass, gave me space to breathe, at least for a little while. I just needed some perspective.

It felt like there was only one place to find some of that from here.

When I got to the base of the Arch and gazed up at the tiny windows at the top, it seemed impossibly big. It made no sense how someone could build such a thing. I walked down below to the visitor's center, where they had all kinds of exhibits and movies and stuff. But I just wanted to get to the top of that thing.