Hoodie (4 page)

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just have to tell her,” Emma said. “That would be really funny to watch.”

She laughed then, and it surprised him.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh? Imaginin’ my mama whoopin’ me?”

She nodded her head giggling. He was grateful for it, and not wanting the friendly moment to end, he searched for something else to say that would keep her laughing.

“Okay, so remember when you was younger and yo’ mama or daddy come after you to spank you, and you be runnin’ holdin’ yo’ ass and pushing yo’ hips as far out in front of you as you can lookin’ like a retard?”

He demonstrated by running down the hall yelling “Mama don’t!” and holding his bottom.

Emma doubled over with laughter. She heard the classroom door open and tried to regain her composure.

“What the hell is going on out here?” It was Dr. Thompson peering out into the hallway with his usual disheveled hair and glasses askew. He spotted Anton then looked at Emma. She shrugged.

“We sorry, Dr. Thompson,” Anton said, walking back towards Emma. “I was just showin’ my girl here how I used to—”

“Save it. And go home. I don’t know why you people hang around school when you don’t have to,” Dr. Thompson said. He tried to sound annoyed, but there was a clear sense of relief in his words. They were finally getting along. Now maybe he wouldn’t have to hear from Emma’s unbearable parents.

“Sorry,” Emma offered, picking up her bag. Anton did the same and they started walking down the hallway.

“Now you gotta show me how you tried to sideswipe those whoopin’s,” he said as they walked.

“Yeah right,” Emma replied.

“Now it’s only fair. I showed you,” he said. And before she could reply, she felt a playful pop on her bottom. He couldn’t believe he did it! They had only just become friendly with one another. But it felt so easy and natural. He was certain she wouldn’t object.

“Anton!” she squealed, instinctively covering her bottom with her hands.

“You betta run, girl. That’s all I can say,” he said, grinning. His eyes twinkled with mischief.

And she did. She ran for the exit feeling him close behind her, knowing he could take her in two strides. She burst through the doors and turned on him suddenly, her bag falling off her shoulder. He stopped short, this time running into her without meaning to. She stumbled backwards, but he caught her around her waist.

“Thank you,” she said, while he still held her.

“You welcome,” he said, smacking her bottom again. He was careful to watch her reaction.

She grinned, pushing him away playfully while feigning outrage.

“You can’t do that to me, Anton,” she said, and he felt he’d get on the ground and kiss her feet to hear her say his name again.

“Relax. I’m just playin’ with you,” he said casually.

She felt she broke the magic and cursed herself for saying anything. But she hadn’t. The magic was coursing through him, and he knew that he needed to get on his bike and get far away from her or the magic might burst. He didn’t want to be responsible for what would happen when the magic burst.

“Want a ride home?” she asked.

“What? Oh I see. I live in the projects and can’t afford no car,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that,” Emma said. She felt embarrassed.

“Nah, it’s a’ight. You right anyway. I ain’t got no car,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “But what I do got is this snazzy bike.”

He pointed to the bike rack, but there was no bike.

“Okay, well I did have a muthafuckin’ bike,” he said.

Emma was unsure how to respond.

“How somebody gonna steal someone else’s bike?” he asked. “It wasn’t even a good bike neither. Piece of shit.”

Emma was on the verge of laughter, and she felt mortified. She tried to hold it in. It was no laughing matter. His property had been stolen. She didn’t want to seem callous, and she certainly didn’t want to come off looking like a snotty, spoiled little girl. But it was the way he reacted—like fake surprise, she thought. Like he expected it and was only just putting on a show about it because she was standing there. She tried, but the laughter broke through.

“What? How you gonna be laughin’ that somebody stole my bike?” Anton asked, his face filled with mock incredulity.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said between giggles.

“That little punk finally took it back,” Anton said to himself as the realization dawned.

“What?” Emma asked.

Anton shook his head then hung it shamefully.

“I stole that thing. It wasn’t even mine to begin with.”

“You stole someone’s bike?” Emma asked.

“It’s not like it was even a good bike. If you’d of seen it, you’d understand.”

“Is this something you do a lot? Steal people’s things?”

“Take it easy. It was some punkass bitch who was talkin’ shit about me and my friends and how we was losers for not havin’ no ride. Like he had a ride. Shit. Rollin’ around on that piece of shit, fallin’ apart, handles broken, chain-draggin’-on-the-ground bike. So I took him out then took his bike. That shut him up.”

Emma looked nonplussed. “Why did you steal it if it’s so bad?”

“To make a point.” Anton continued to look in the direction of the bike rack. He was afraid to look at Emma. He had no idea why he revealed that incident to her. Now he was afraid that the hard won politeness and even mild flirtation between them would completely disappear and never return.

He finally turned to look at her. She was walking towards the parking lot.

“Hey!” he called after her. “Where you goin’? Can I get a ride?”

“I don’t think so,” she called back, and he saw the hint of a smile on her face.

“Oh okay. I see how it is. You gonna teach me some lesson about consequences or some shit. Yeah, okay. Well, it ain’t even a big deal. I just live right around the corner. Five-minute walk tops. Yeah, go on and get in yo’ car. Ignore what I’m sayin’.”

He watched her wave to him as she pulled out of the parking lot and thought for a split second that he’d like to pin her up against the lockers again. He shook his head and started his six-mile walk home.

CHAPTER 3

SATURDAY, APRIL 17

“Hey, you busy?” Anton said into the phone, lying sprawled out on his bed. It was eleven on Saturday morning, and he had just woken up.

“Who’s this?” came a voice on the other end of the line.

“Girl, you know who this is. It’s Anton.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know an Anton,” was the reply.

Confused, Anton pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen. He cross-referenced the number he dialed to the number on the piece of paper Emma had given him. The numbers matched. It was then that he heard a stifled giggle.

“Oh, you funny,” he said, his heartbeat quickening.

“I’m just messin’,” Emma said. “What are you up to?”

“I’m callin’ to ax you about gettin’ together today,” Anton replied. “You busy?”

“Not at all,” she said. She, too, was in bed but not because she had just woken up. She had gone for a long run in the early morning hours, had come home to shower, then crawled back into bed once the deliciously languid feeling of complete exhaustion overtook her body.

“So how you wanna do this?” Anton asked.

“Well, that’s a good question. I guess the first thing is learning about each other’s cultures,” Emma said. “But how do we do that?”

“I don’t know. I guess maybe we gotta hang around each other?” Anton offered.

“Hmm. I guess,” Emma said thoughtfully.

“Well don’t sound too excited about it,” Anton replied laughing.

“Sorry. I was just thinking,” Emma said. “Do you want to meet at the library?”

“For what?”

“To work.”

“How we gonna learn about each other at a library?” Anton asked.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Emma said. “You wanna come over here?”

“To yo’ house? Please. I’d get arrested.”

Emma laughed.

“You come over here,” Anton decided. He was unsure, but he figured that eventually she would see where he lived anyway.

“To your house?” Emma asked doubtfully.

“Don’t worry. Ain’t nobody gonna try to sell you drugs or nothin’. Least I don’t think so.”

“I’m not sure,” Emma said.

“What you mean? You offered me a ride home the other day?” Anton reminded her.

“Yeah. I was just being polite,” Emma admitted.

“Girl, you killin’ me. Look, we gonna do this thing or not? Sixty percent of our grade, remember?”

“I know.”

There was a brief pause.

“My mama gonna be here. Do that make you feel better?” he asked.

He waited, imagining that he could hear the thoughts running wildly about in her head. She was scared, he knew, and he didn’t know what bothered him more: the fact that she was scared of where he lived or the fact that he was scared of actually showing her where he lived. He constantly felt trapped between feelings of loyalty to his neighborhood and feelings of embarrassment. He wondered if other black people felt the same way, and if that was just a condition of living in the ghetto. He was jolted out of his contemplation by the sound of her voice.

“What’s your address?”

***

He sat out on his front stoop watching for her. He thought that she should have been there by now and wondered if she changed her mind. He looked at his surroundings and snorted. She had no idea what she was about to learn, he thought.

After hanging up with her earlier, he went outside to clean up the trash littered about his duplex. It wasn’t his or his mama’s. She always complained about the trash, but they lived beside the worst tenants imaginable, and nothing was ever done about it. Beer bottles, burger wrappers and napkins from fast food restaurants, even used condoms were strewn everywhere. He wouldn’t touch the condoms, but he still wanted them out of sight. It was embarrassing enough having her see the actual buildings of his housing project without them being decorated with used contraceptives. Well, at least they’re practicing safe sex, he thought amused.

He found latex gloves in the house and armed himself for the work ahead. His mother watched him from the living room window walking about slowly and methodically, picking up trash, collecting it in a plastic bag. He kicked at the ground to push dirt and leaves over the condoms. She smiled to herself even as her heart tightened. I’m getting us outta here, baby, she thought. And she was. She was going to school to be a nurse and was a few months away from graduation. She worked constantly—often the night shifts at the local hospital—and when she wasn’t working she was studying. It took her many years to get to where she was, but she did it, and she was almost finished. They were almost out.

He came in after awhile and saw his mother at the sink. She was washing dishes. She turned to him and smiled.