Part 28 (1/2)

”He didn't say anything.” Momma touched my arm. ”I'm okay, baby. Go back and finish studying for your test.”

Daddy's back straightened, his bushy mustache crooked as his lips curved down, his eyes widened. ”What you say to me, n.i.g.g.e.r?”

”I'm not a n.i.g.g.e.r. My name is Dante.”

”So, the n.i.g.g.e.r speaking up for himself.”

”You heard me the first time. And I ain't a n.i.g.g.e.r.”

”You challenging me? What, you think because you got a little hair over your d.i.c.k you're a grown man now? Ain't but one man in this house.”

Momma spoke carefully to Daddy. ”Don't get upset.”

I frowned at the s.h.i.+ny badge on the chest of his tan uniform, then at the gun in his leather holster.

He sucked his teeth, nodded, and jerked the badge off. He threw the gun holster on the love seat. He stepped away from the gla.s.s coffee table, opened his arms, and snapped out, ”You want to be a man? Come on. I'll give you the first shot. n.i.g.g.e.r, I'll knock your black a.s.s into the middle of next week.”

Momma gripped my arm tight enough for her nails to break my skin. I glanced at the golden cross she had on her chest, the one she had got from her mother just a few weeks before Grandmamma died. I looked into my momma's light brown eyes, eyes that looked like mine. ”Let me go, Momma.”

”No.” She put her nose against mine and whispered, ”Momma's okay. It's just a little scratch.”

My knees shook when I stood and faced my old man. When his eyes met mine, his anger held so much power that I forgot how to breathe. Heart went into overdrive. He balled up his right fist, slammed it into the palm of his left hand; it echoed like thunder. ”What are you gonna do, n.i.g.g.e.r?”

I trembled, backed away, and said, ”Nothing.”

”Nothing, what?”

”Nothing, sir.”

I kicked my bare feet into the rust carpet, then slumped my shoulders, wiped my sweaty hands on my jean shorts, and turned around to go back to my room.

Then that motherf.u.c.ker chuckled.

A simple laugh that stoked up the rage inside of me.

I charged at him as fast and as hard as I could.

Momma screamed.

Daddy's eyes widened with surprise.

Pain. Anger. Fear.

Three screams from three people.

From the backseat of the police car, I stared through the wire cage at the colorful rotating lights that were brightening Scottsdale's earth-tone stucco houses. I was hostage under a calm sky. The spinning glow from twelve squad cars looked like rainbows chasing rainbows. Colors raced over all the sweet gum trees and windmill palms, moved like a strobe light over the vanhoutte spirea in the front of the three-car garage. The reek of cordite was on my flesh. Couldn't really smell it over the stench of my stress sweating. I concentrated on the colors to make the pain from the tight handcuffs go away. Watched the rainbows come and go.

The door opened. A dry May breeze mixed with the sweltering car air. A police officer stuck his sweaty head inside. His face was hard, his voice angry and anxious. ”Your mother wants to say something to you before we lock your a.s.s up. We shouldn't let her say a d.a.m.n word to you after what you did. Do you mind?

I stared straight ahead. ”No.”

He raised his voice. ”No what?”

”No,” I repeated in a way that let him know I thought that all of them were a.s.sholes for making me out to be the bad guy. ”I don't mind.”

He gripped the back of my neck. ”You're pretty belligerent.”

I was a k.n.o.b-kneed reed of a boy. Hadn't lifted anything heavier than an algebra book and could barely run a mile in P.E. without pa.s.sing out. That was before I started pumping weights, before squats, before doing two hundred push-ups in the morning to start my day, doing sprints, before the hooks and jabs and side kicks and roundhouse kicks and spinning back kicks became my trademark.

I said, ”f.u.c.k you.”

With his other hand he grabbed the front of my throat and squeezed, made me gag and look into his blue eyes. He growled, ”Say, 'No, sir. I don't mind, sir.' You insolent b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”

He let me go when another officer pa.s.sed by. I gagged and caught my breath while perspiration tingled down my forehead into my eyes. I tilted my head and looked at him.

He smirked. ”Now, what you have to say?”

I spat in his face.

His cheeks turned crimson. He stared at me while my saliva rolled down his scarred face into his ill-trimmed wheat-colored mustache.

”That's your a.s.s, boy.”

Veins popped up in his neck while he stood there, handkerchief in hand, clenching his teeth and wiping my juices from his eye. He kept watching me, wanted me to break down and show my fear. It was there, but I refused to let it be seen. Another officer pa.s.sed by and scarface told him what I'd done. It looked like they were about to double team me, but the second officer said they had to report the a.s.sault and they both stormed away.

A second later the door opened again and my mother eased her bruised face inside.

She said, ”Don't hate me.”

”Love you, Momma.” I smiled. ”Get away from here.”

She fondled her wedding ring. Tears formed in her eyes. She dropped the police blanket from her shoulders, took her cross off, and put it around my neck.

She used her soft fingers to wipe the sweat from my eyes.

”Somebody'll come get you out. Maybe Uncle Ray. You might be able to go back to Philly and stay with him for a while.”

”Uncle Ray don't like us. We're Catholic; Jehovah's Witnesses don't like n.o.body but Jehovah's Witnesses.”

”Stop saying that.”

”It's true.”

”I'll call him anyway. I'll tell him you made the honor roll, so he'll know you're still doing good in school. Let him know you might get a scholars.h.i.+p. You could help him around his grocery store in the evenings.”

I shook my head. ”Don't worry about me. Get away before he hurts you. All he's gonna do is beat you up, then go out to Fort McDowell and spend the night with that Indian woman. He ain't been home in two days, then walks in complaining about some stupid dinner. Tomorrow he'll be mad about his s.h.i.+rts. The next day his shoes.”

My old man was standing in a crowd of badges, guns, and whispers. The ambulance crew had bandaged his head and he was back on his feet. I'd beat him with everything I could get my hands on.

He made a single finger gesture for Momma to come.