Tyrell Page 17

  “He is smart,” she tell me. “But sometimes children adapt to their surroundings.”

  Man, was she saying something bad ‘bout my family? That he only actin’ that way ‘cause his family so messed up?

  But before I can ask her what she mean, she say, “He’s been in special education for almost five months, and some of the children in the class have behavioral and emotional problems. I think if Troy is placed back in regular education, some of those behaviors he’s picked up may disappear.”

  I nod. “That sound good. When you gonna move him?”

  “Monday. We’re going to slowly transition him out of special education. And since he’s so strong in math and science, we’ll put him in the mainstream classes for those subjects first and see how he does. If all goes well, he’ll be completely mainstreamed in two or three months.”

  I look over at Troy, who’s at one of the tables eating a English muffin next to his best friend, Malcolm. He eating and talking, and I’m just hoping he ain’t got so comfortable with them special-ed kids that he not gonna know how to act when he back in the regular class.

  “Thanks, Ms. Morton,” I say. “I better get outta here.”

  “Tyrell,” she say. “I don’t want to hold you up from getting to school on time, but could you wait for me at the front door for a minute?”

  “A’ight,” I say. I walk out the cafeteria and down the hall, but I don’t know what’s going on. What she want me to wait for? I hope she ain’t gonna ask me no questions ‘bout my moms and try to say Troy getting neglected or nothing ‘cause that ain’t true. Long as I’m ‘round, my moms can handle Troy.

  I stand by the front door, freezing as kids come running in from the streets, the door opening every five seconds letting in all that cold air. Finally after two or three minutes, Ms. Morton come over and hand me something wrapped in foil. “Here. Something for you to eat before school.” She smile again.

  Damn. She giving me handouts. I mean, I know she being nice and everything, but all I feel is embarrassed.

  And what’s messed up is that I’m really hungry too. Starving. I need this food.

  I thank Ms. Morton, but she tell me don’t worry ‘bout it, that they always got extra food and it’s better to let someone eat it or it’s gonna go to waste. Man, I can’t even hardly look her in the eye though. I leave outta there and walk down the street real fast.

  On the train heading back downtown, I unwrap the foil and bite into the English muffin that got eggs and something that kinda look like sausage in it. People is giving me dirty looks ‘cause the eggs is stinking up the train, but I don’t care. I’m hungry. And the shit taste alright for school food.

  I get off the train at 149th Street and Third Avenue ‘cause it’s still rush hour and I can make some decent money at a busy station like this. I take up position by the turnstile and flash my MetroCards so folks can see them, but, at the same time, I try to keep things on the down low so the cops don’t catch me.

  The thing ‘bout the city is that they try to be slick. They don’t want nobody buying a 30-day unlimited card and swiping in all they friends and shit, so once you swipe your card, you can’t use that same card again for like fifteen minutes, which ain’t right. So I got me five cards. And I don’t pay what the city charge for them neither. Cal brother, Greg, told me ‘bout this guy he know that be selling 30-day cards for $25. First I thought the cards he was selling wasn’t gonna work, but they do, so a couple weeks ago, after we got evicted, I went back to him and got five so I wouldn’t hafta waste no time standing ‘round in between swipes. Spent my last dollar on them cards and made a profit two days later.

  I ain’t there a minute before some guy come up beside me and slip me a dollar. I use one of my cards to get him through. Then for the next hour and a half, I’m mad busy. The only time I stop is when cops go by. I know the guy selling MetroCards in the booth see what I’m up to, but he don’t pay me no mind. He probably glad I’m there ‘cause now he got less work to do hisself. I’m doing half his work. But I don’t care though. All I know is I’m getting paid up in here.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jasmine set me up. And I’m so damn stupid, I walked right in her trap. Course I don’t even see the trap at first. I’m just chillin’, standing outside her school at 1:50 eating a buttered roll from the truck in front of the building. All I got on my mind is business and how I’ma hype the party so kids is gonna wanna come. I’m all ‘bout numbers, gettin’ as many kids up in there as possible.

  The thing is, I know when me and Jasmine go ‘round to the schools, them kids is gonna be sizing me up, trying to see if I’m the kinda brotha that could throw a good party. Now I know I’m looking good, ‘cause I always do, but my jacket look like shit. I mean, it ain’t tore up or nothing, but it ain’t new like what Troy got.

  Standing out here waiting for Jasmine, I’m kinda tired, ‘specially ‘cause I been working on my feet all day. The good thing is I’m up $66, which I need ‘cause I been walking ‘round broke after Leon took all the money Cal and them gave me. But I still could use even more money before the party. In case some last-minute shit come up.

  I called Leon a couple hours ago to let him know I’ma have the equipment back, so the party is definitely on. He told me he gonna be at the depot to let us in at 5:30 when it’s dark enough out that we could get all the equipment in without nobody seeing us. Before I hung up from him, he reminded me that I still gotta give him the extra $200, like I forgot ‘bout that or something. Asshole. I just hope he do a good job setting the party up and keeping us from getting locked up. ‘Cause that’s what I’m paying his ass for.

  Jasmine go to a school called The Bronx High School for Cultural Expression. I don’t know what the fuck that mean, but the school is mad small, so probably a lot of kids don’t want they culture expressed. The school is in the basement of a office building just a couple blocks from Yankee Stadium, and while I’m standing there, all kinds of people with briefcases and shit come in and out the building.

  Me, I know I could never work in no office all day. I would probably lose my mind locked up in a building from nine to five. That just ain’t me. I’m the kinda guy that need to be his own boss. Like my pops always say, people spend they day working for somebody else only to get nothing but chump change. But when you work for yourself, everything you make is yours.

  After ‘bout fifteen minutes, I go inside to warm up. This female guard is standing by the door. “You making a delivery?” she ask me, and I’m thinking, do she see me carrying a package or something?

  But I just go, “No, I’m waiting for my friend.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tyrell Green, why?”

  She flip though some sheets of paper on a clipboard. “Oh, go on downstairs. They’re waiting for you in the guidance counselor’s office.” She write my name on one of them visitor stickers and tell me to put it on. I’m confused as hell, but I put it on and take the stairs down to the basement where they got a big banner with the school name on it. What the fuck is Jasmine up to? She ain’t say nothing ‘bout me coming inside her school. I thought she was gonna meet me outside. And why she waiting for me with the guidance counselor?

  Course this is before it hit me that I been set up.

  When I get to the office, Jasmine tell me some bullshit ‘bout how she sorry she kept me waiting, but her and the guidance counselor, who she be calling by her first name, had to talk ‘bout something. So for a while I’m just sitting there listening to them talk ‘bout some teacher that Jasmine having trouble with ‘cause all he do is give tests and shit.

  “I’m not kidding, Yolanda,” Jasmine say. “He doesn’t understand that this is an alternative school. This is the kinda school that’s supposed to help kids that had trouble at other schools.”

  I lean my head back and close my eyes for a second. Damn. Why is Jasmine doing this to me? She so fuckin’ obvious it ain’t even funny.

  Them two go on and on trying
to show me what a good school this is, and the only thing that keep my attention even a little is that Yolanda is hot. For real. She can’t be no more than twenty-five, she Dominican-looking, and her body is tight. Shit, man, the guidance counselor at my school look like Cedric the Entertainer in a wig. I ain’t lying neither.

  Finally Yolanda turn to me and say, “What school do you go to, Tyrell?”

  “I don’t go to school no more,” I tell her, like she don’t already know. “I’m taking a break.” I look over to Jasmine who’s doing everything she can not to make eye contact with me. She looking at her nails, then at her watch, then at the floor, actin’ as guilty as she gonna get.

  Yolanda ask me how long I ain’t been to school and I tell her I only missed ‘bout a month, and how I’m trying to work and make money so we could get out the shelter system. All that. She look at me while I’m talking and it’s kinda like she actually listening to what I gotta say.

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen, but I’ma be sixteen in March, so I could drop out then, right?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Nah. I mean, maybe. I don’t know.”

  Jasmine elbow me in the side. “C’mon, Ty. You could come to this school. Tell him, Yolanda.”

  Yolanda laugh a little. “You just did.” She stand up and come from behind the desk. She sit in the chair on the other side of me. “You’ve only missed a month. That’s not too bad right now. As Jasmine said, we’re an alternative school, so we have various schedules and programs here. Some kids are on the traditional four-year track. Some would rather take five or six years to graduate, so they can work more hours at their jobs. If you transfer here, you can choose your own plan, and we’ll do everything we can to help you achieve your goals.” She stand up again. “Okay. That’s my sales pitch. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking I got played by a fine girl.”

  Jasmine start giggling next to me.

  “Well,” Yolanda say, “boys have done crazier things than go back to high school for a girl they like. Jasmine is a very sweet girl who cares about you. And you can never have too many people who care about you.”

  “True that,” I say. But still, I don’t like being set up.

  Before we leave, Yolanda make me give her my information so she can contact my school and get my records faxed to her. “And why don’t we meet Monday at ten to discuss your options? No pressure.” She smile. “Seriously. We’ll just talk.” When I don’t say nothing right away, she say, “Okay, okay. I’ll even steal some donuts from the teachers’ lounge and we’ll have a late breakfast together for fifteen minutes, which is about all the time I’ll have before students like your friend here come knocking on the door.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The donuts are fresh on Mondays,” she say. “By Wednesday, they’re like ashtrays with holes in the middle.”

  I laugh. “A’ight. We can talk, but I ain’t saying I’ma come back to school or nothing.”

  “I’ll see you Monday.” She reach her hand out.

  We shake. “Monday,” I say.

  When we get outside, Jasmine rip the visitor sticker off my jacket, and I’m, like, “Why you do that for?”

  “Because you look like a pendejo, that’s why.”

  “I ain’t talking ‘bout the sticker, I’m talking ‘bout that whole thing with Yolanda just now. Why you set me up like that?”

  Jasmine put her hands on her hips. “Set you up?”

  “Don’t start.”

  She laugh like this is a joke or something. “You can’t get mad at me for trying to help you. And if you come here to my school, me and you are gonna have so much fun everyday.”

  I just shake my head ‘cause I can tell she got the whole thing worked out in her mind already. It don’t matter what I say. I don’t know why, but females always think they know what guys need. Like we too dumb to run our own life or something.

  TWENTY-NINE

  We don’t talk no more ‘bout Yolanda or school for the rest of the day. We just get to work. Jasmine tell me she already got the word out at her school, so we go straight to one of her old schools ‘cause they get out at 2:35. We gonna promote there for ‘bout fifteen or twenty minutes, then go a couple blocks to the other school that kicked her out. They don’t get out ‘til 3:00.

  The first school ain’t too far from the criminal court where me and my moms spent way too much time in September going to hearings and meeting with my pops lawyer who ain’t know shit ‘bout how to keep a man outta jail. The lawyer had, like, fifty thousand cases, and no matter how many times he seen us, he still ain’t know who we was. That’s ‘cause he was one of them free lawyers you get when you can’t afford no better. And the truth is, when you pay nothin’, you get nothin’.

  When we get to the school, it look like half the kids is in front of the building like it’s summer or something. They talking and smoking, and taking they time walking down the block. Man, I woulda been long gone by now if this was my school.

  Jasmine go right to work like she gettin’ paid to promote my party. And she wasn’t lying when she said she know everyone. And it don’t matter the race neither. When she went to this school, she musta been down with the Blacks, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, Koreans, Cambodians, and even the couple White kids ‘cause everybody know her and come up to her to say they miss her and shit like that. Everyone kiss her too.

  She a new person when she with all them other kids. She all friendly and happy, and that smile don’t never leave her face. Jasmine introduce me to some of her friends. “He’s the best DJ. You gotta come hear him,” she tell a group of girls. She give them the time and place. “And I’m gonna be there, and I’m inviting a lot of cute guys, so you gotta come.” One girl write the info on the back of her notebook. “And, Marisol, you gotta bring your brother. And all his cute friends.”

  “Okay,” Marisol say. She look like she would do anything Jasmine tell her to.

  Jasmine hug her. “Tell everyone you know, okay? Spread the word.”

  Then, later, when she talk to two guys, she tell them, “Girls are getting in for free, so you know there’s gonna be a lot of them there. I invited all my friends. And I’m gonna be there, and I wanna dance with both of you.”

  She say the same thing to every guy. The way I figure it, by the time we through with both schools, she done promised to dance with, like, forty-something guys. And the way them dudes was looking at her, and putting they arms ‘round her waist and kissing her on the cheek and shit, I ain’t really like it. How they know me and her wasn’t together? Why they think they could get with her when I’m standing right there?

  Matter of fact, most of the time that’s just what I was doing—standing ‘round, not doing much of nothin’. Yeah, Jasmine introduced me to just ‘bout everyone she know, but I ain’t had to say nothing. She did all the talking, and she was doing just fine selling my party all by herself.

  And now I know there’s a whole ‘nother side to Jasmine I ain’t seen before. The whole time we was promoting, she looked like she was in heaven, just eating up all the attention them kids was giving her. Looking at her like that, she ain’t even seem like the same girl that’s scared to be alone, that be sad and crying all the time.

  When we done, Jasmine grab my hand and start pulling me up the street. “Come with me to Emiliano’s. I need to get my dance outfit.”

  We walk a couple blocks and catch the D train at 167th Street. The trains is getting kinda crowded ‘cause all the kids is outta school now, but we find two seats together in the last car. I gotta say, I’m feeling real good, not only ‘bout the party, but ‘bout Jasmine too. The way she was with all them kids, talking me up and making the party sound so good, man, it was just cool being with her and spending time with her away from Bennett.

  All the way uptown, Jasmine talking nonstop. “I hope Hector doesn’t come. He was the guy that was wearing the black jacket with the red trim, remember
him? If he comes, and if Miguel is there too, there’s gonna be trouble because I was going out with Hector first, and he was a nice guy for, like, two months, then that maricon started to disrespect me, so Emiliano made me break up with him, but I didn’t really do it. Not all the way. But I started going out with Miguel so Emil wouldn’t think I was still with Hector. You understand?”

  “Yeah.” Man, my head is spinning.

  “So I was going out with Hector and Miguel at the same time, and Emiliano found out and he wouldn’t let me leave the house. He kept telling me I was gonna come out pregnant, but I wasn’t doing nothing with Miguel. Just Hector.”

  “Why you ain’t stop messing with the dude that was treating you bad?”

  “You seen how hot he was, right?”

  I give her a look, like, do she really think I’m checking out other dudes? “So what happened?” I’m just trying to get to the end of this story already.

  “Emiliano started driving me to school and back on the bread truck again, that’s what happened.”

  I start laughing. “So who you like better now? Hector or Miguel?”

  “None of them. I like you.”

  “You all talk, girl. Last night you dogged me.”

  She put her arms ‘round me and kiss me on the cheek. “Try again tonight,” she tell me.

  “Nah. I don’t like being rejected.” I kiss her lips. “Am I gonna get rejected again?”

  She smile, all sexy and shit. “Wait and see.”

  Damn. She playing games again. I don’t know why I’m putting up with this, but, really, what else I got to do?

  THIRTY

  Emiliano live on Grand Concourse, not too far from Mosholu Parkway. The area up there is kinda alright, and most of them buildings is still nice too. Jasmine got a key to get in the lobby, but Emiliano changed the apartment locks on them, so when we get upstairs she gotta ring the buzzer.

  I hear a man call out something in Spanish, and Jasmine say her name.