Part 6 (1/2)

Her eyes grew wide when it registered that I was for real. Even when I let go of her collar she remained in my face.

”Go, now, and handle that,” I told her and, as if hypnotized, she slowly rose to an erect position and strode back toward the door. I watched her through half-closed eyes, hoping they wouldn't kill both of us. She stopped in their presence and traded words with them. They were out of my earshot. I saw Eloise gesture toward the hallway to the left, turn, and do the same thing toward the right. I had no idea what she was doing. Whatever it was, it worked, and my a.s.sailants moved into the hallway and eventually out of my sight. She, too, left my sight, but only for an instant. When I saw her round the corner again and come into the room she had the telephone with her and was moving rather quickly.

”What did you tell 'em?” I asked excitedly.

Thrusting the phone at me she said, ”Don't worry 'bout that, you better call your people, 'cause they comin' back.”

Not knowing how much time I had before they'd be back, I hastily dialed Li'l Monster's number. It rung once, twice, three times and . . . d.a.m.n, I'd dialed the wrong number. On my second attempt I hit pay dirt.

”Bro, what's up?” I said quickly into the receiver.

”What's up?!” Bro shot back and stammered on, ”Man, we been tearin' s.h.i.+t-”

”No, wait, listen. They up here!”

”Who?”

”The Sixties, man. The Sixties!”

”We on our way!”

The connection was broken. I rang for Eloise and she came right away. I explained to her the seriousness of my foes and that it was probably the same three who had originally shot me. I also turned down her offer to get the police. No, we'd handle this ourselves. She looked skeptical, but gave me her word that she wouldn't call the police. The longest twenty minutes of my life were spent waiting for Li'l Bro and reinforcements.

Finally, I saw Li'l Bro bend the corner, followed by Li'l Spike, Joker, Li'l Crazy De, Stone, China, Bam, and Spooney, the latter three being homegirls. They surrounded my bed so that nothing else was visible but them; then weapons began to materialize from under their heavy clothing. They had mostly hand weapons, a few buck knives, and Li'l Spike had a sawed-off single-shot. Li'l Monster had been out of camp for about nine months and was working in earnest toward his required second level. He displayed all the traits of promise. From under his s.h.i.+rt he produced a .25 automatic, and China came out with a box of bullets.

”This is for you, Bro,” he said, handing me the strap and box of bullets.

”Righteous.” I went on to explain the situation and gave a description of all three. Li'l Spike and Joker went in search of them, while the others stayed to talk. Bro said that he had come to see me while I was in ICU, but I had no recollection of him ever being there. He said he could not stand to see me in such a state. We looked at each other for a long moment, and I could see that he was hurt and wanted to communicate his emotions, but neither of us knew how to do it. So we settled for the unspoken medium of love, each hoping the other would somehow catch the vibes of sincerity.

Crazy De had been in an altercation with some Sixties in the Hall, China told me. No homies had been captured or shot since the Tet had begun, and the set was enjoying tremendous coverage by the media. Li'l Spike and Joker returned with Eloise hot on their heels.

”No sign of them fools,” Li'l Spike said with frustration. ”Besides,” he said, pointing his thumb at Eloise, ”we got sweated by homelady here.”

”You d.a.m.n right you got sweated. But tell him what you was doin'. Go on, tell him,” she said loudly.

Neither Joker nor Li'l Spike said a thing, so I asked them what was up.

Joker spoke up first. ”Aw, cuz, she bent the corner and caught a m.u.t.h.af.u.c.ka strikin' up the 'hood.”

”Gangwritin', in my hospital. Uhh-uhh, not here you don't.”

”You don't own this G.o.dd.a.m.n hospital, woman, who the-”

”Stall her out, Bam, she down wit' us,” I said sharply to the homegirl, who was widely known for her belligerence.

”But she-”

”Stall her out,” I repeated, forcefully.

”Kody, visitin' time is 'bout over anyway.” Eloise was now shooting daggers at Bam, who was returning her stares point for point.

”Awright, but let us get three mo' minutes, huh?”

”Yeah, yeah, but no mo' writin', y'all hear?” she said, looking from one hard face to another.

No one replied. She finally gave a small sigh and left the room. I began to instruct the crew about my plans once I was released. All seemed quite happy to know that I was recovering well, Li'l Bro and China especially. Not to say that there was any less affection from the others, but China and Li'l Monster knew me more intimately, so our link was stronger.

Soon thereafter the crew began to leave. The set sign was thrown in a salute by each homie, and China gave me a kiss on the cheek, promising she'd be back the following day. Bro milled around and waited for the last homie to file out. After a minute he looked at me, then dropped his head. When he raised it again we both had tears in our eyes. I had been touched-wounded-and although it was never verbally communicated, I was Li'l Bro's hero, the closest thing he had to total invincibility. Everything I did, he did. And now, with my being wounded, he knew that there was someone out there that was stronger, more determined than me. The vast weight of this fell heavy on his shoulders and it became inc.u.mbent upon him to destroy that person and ”save the world”-our set. At fourteen, that's a heavy load.

”It's gonna be all right, it's gonna be all right,” is all I could say.

To which Bro replied, ”Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna make it right. Watch.”

We hugged briefly, as much as my st.i.tches would allow, and then Bro left without looking back. It was times like this that I hated my life. Perhaps this was due to my not knowing answers to certain questions or being able to present my emotions on an intelligible level. Being ignorant is, to me, the equivalent of being dead.

I checked my strap to make sure it was loaded and put it under my pillow. If they came back now it would not be in their interest. Against my better judgment, I dozed off.

Time flew by, and daily I became stronger. China was coming to visit every day and even brought a radio, although only after I had sworn on the set-which was much more religious than swearing to G.o.d-not to destroy it like the last one. I got no more calls or unexpected visits, and on January 14th I was discharged. This was the only time my mother came to the hospital, which didn't bother me too much then. We had grown very far apart, so I'd never expected her to come, anyway. But she had to come on my discharge day because I was still sixteen and she had to sign the release form. Our mutual greetings were lukewarm. We talked little on the way out of the hospital. I was rolled out in a wheelchair pushed by Mom. Over my knees was a blanket, and underneath it the weapon, my hand fully on the grip.

In the car we both made small talk. The days were past where Mom sought to talk me out of bangin', but still she was firmly set against it. Little did I know that Mom was under as much strain as I was. This is universally true of every mother who has a child in a gang. But usually communication has long been broken with that parent, who the child looks upon as a familiar intruder trying once again to offset stability. In this light, anything proposed by the parent-whether positive or not-is rejected. The intruding parent becomes enemylike in thought, and is to be avoided. Nothing is to alter the set's existence. For a youth with no other hope in a system that excludes them, the gang becomes their corporation, college, religion, and life. It is in this reality that gang members go to the extreme with tattoos. I now have ”Eight Trays” written across my neck and ”Crips” on my chest. Ever see George Bush with ”Republican” on his chest or ”Capitalist” on his neck?

The moment I got home the phone began ringing off the hook.

”Yes, I'm all right.”

”No, I didn't get my d.i.c.k blown off.”

”No, I wasn't shot in the head.”

The calls went on like this all day. When night fell, I hit the streets on Li'l Monster's bike. Li'l Tray Ball rode with me and carried the weapon. We weaved our way through the 'hood, stopping here and there to explain blurry details to concerned citizens of the 'hood and a few parents who were looked upon as ”friendlies.” When we had circ.u.mvented a good portion of the 'hood, we doubled back toward the north. It had gotten chilly, and because of my stay in the hospital I was unaccustomed to being out in such weather. My open wounds made my trek in such weather all the more dangerous. When we reached the house, Mom was standing out on the front lawn accompanied by a host of homegirls. Kesha, Judy Brown, China, Bam, Prena, and Big Lynn were all there. Before I came to a halt I knew something wasn't right. Everyone looked grief-stricken. Mom began in on me right away.

”Kody, where you been?”

”Just ridin' in the 'hood, what's up?” I asked in a nonchalant tone.

”You are not supposed to be out in such weather with those open wounds. You know what the doctor told you.” Her voice was almost a whimper.

”Aw, Mom, I was just ridin' around. Anyway, I got my jacket on,” I retorted.

”But honey, you could catch pneumonia out here. Please come in the house.”

”Awright, but just let me kick it a minute out here,” I said defiantly, not about to be talked down by Mom in front of the homies.

”No,” Mom said with new force. ”Come in here now.”

”Mom, you trippin', I'll be in there in a minute.”

”Monster,” Kesha spoke up, ”you should just go on in the house.”

”Wait, wait, hold it, hold it,” I responded with both hands up, one palm showing and a cast on the other.