Secret Saturdays (7 page)

“Sure,” Kyle said. “But why?”

“No reason.” I picked up my chocolate milk, sipped, and looked over to the soda machine. Sean and Vanessa were coming back. I grabbed my cheeseburger but kept my eyes on them.

My mind went back to the real reason I wanted Kyle sleeping over my place. Now me and Kyle could stay up late and spy on Sean. Once we both saw him, we could blow up Sean's spot. I was still too scared to approach Sean alone, but I couldn't wait for tonight. I bit into my burger.

AT FOUR IN THE MORNING,
I stuck my head out my window. It was dark and the block was dead. I listened carefully. Something moved near my stoop so I stared there.

“Who you spying on?” Kyle asked. He was at my TV playing Hunt or Be Hunted. In it, you kill aliens before they reach and destroy your city. When you shoot them, they splat into green slime.

“No one,” I said, but I kept looking near my stoop. A stray cat busted out a cardboard box and jetted across my block. That made my heart jump.

I got out of the window and watched Kyle blast two more aliens.

“I guess you don't want to play this,” he said.

I snatched my remote and zapped my radio on.

“Oooh. Wanna keep you happy, baby. Keep you happy, baby.” That song from that blazing female singer Lady Dee, who belly-danced, was on.

“Holla!” I stood up and joked like I was dancing with Lady Dee. “Dee's my girl!”

“You stupid.” Kyle laughed. “How she your girl when she mine?” He started humming and head-nodding to her song.

The stoop door outside slammed.

I flung the remote on my bed and flew to the window. Nothing.

“Damn, son.” Kyle paused his game and came over. “What you fiending to see?”

“Shh,” I hushed him.

I knew Sean was about to come off our stoop with his mother. I could feel it.

The stoop door slammed again. A'ight! This was it.

“I'll pay you back tomorrow,” this crackhead said, and walked all dramatically off my stoop, her flip-flops slapping the ground. Ugh, I thought. Where's Sean? A teenager who sold drugs in my building be-bopped off the stoop behind the crackhead. He had a scarf wrapped on his head with his gang colors. The same color scarf hung out his jeans' back pocket. “You better,” he said. He scanned around to see if anybody saw him hustling. Me and Kyle quickly got out of the window. I turned and looked at the digital clock on my dresser. Four twenty-five in the morning.

Man, I don't even know why I stayed up. Sean wasn't taking a secret Saturday trip again. I felt stupid.

I went and unpaused Kyle's game and blasted an alien. I used the gun feature and switched my shotgun for an Uzi. This time, I squeezed and splattered six aliens at the same time. That felt good.

“Justin,” Kyle said. I turned, but all I could see was his back because his head was out my window. “You won't believe who's out here.”

I rushed over. Sean and his mother were there. She had the suitcase. Sean had his half-asleep look on again.

Jackie grabbed Sean's hand and we watched her lead him until they disappeared.

“Whoa,” Kyle said. “Do you know where Sean's going? He tell you?”

“No.”

“Where he goes is his business.” Kyle shook his head. “Still, this is crazy. Sean's a straight liar.”

I felt torn in two. One part of me was like, “Yes!” because my plan was working out. I got Kyle to see Sean sneak out. Another piece of me felt low. The last person I wanted to double-team and force to tell me the truth was Sean. Sean was my dog. You just don't gang up on your best friend. But was he my best friend? If Sean was my boy, he would've put me on to where he was heading right now. This was mad stressful. Worrying about Sean and what to do next made my palms sweaty.

WE DIDN'T HEAR FROM SEAN OVER THE WEEKEND.
On Monday, we didn't see him on our way to school, but he was there in gym.

We sat on the floor waiting for Mr. K to finish taking attendance. Sean sat Indian-style seven kids behind me. The dodgeball was in his lap. When he saw me, he gave me a slo-mo nod. He seemed out of it. Maybe from his last trip? Kyle was two rows of kids over from me.

“Dodgeball?” I mouthed to Sean.

Sean gave me a thumbs-up.

“Okay!” Mr. K yelled. “Free play!”

Me and Kyle jetted in Sean's direction.

“Sean, why you tight?” I asked.

“I'm mad tired. My mom had her friends over,” he told me as he gave Kyle then me a five. “Justin, you knew that.”

“Be honest with your boys. Don't bottle in your feelings.” I remembered that advice from Ma. I wanted to say, “Your mother didn't have friends over.”

But just as I built up my confidence to say it, that sixth grader Big Eddie with the light mustache and caveman hairy arms ran over to us and grabbed at the ball Sean had. Sean yanked it back. Hard.

“Nah, son!” Sean said. Pissed. “My ball first.”

Sean's voice was so angry you would've thought Eddie had done something really wrong, but he had only tried grabbing the dodgeball. He had done that to Sean before and Sean hadn't said anything. This time, Sean eyed him like if Eddie touched the ball again, he would knock Eddie's front teeth down his throat. Big Eddie's a foot taller than Sean but he backed off. Like most boys we know, he's scared of Sean.

“Let's go!” Sean snapped at him, and stormed off toward the dodgeball area.

Eddie paused a second. He looked at us, not knowing what to do next because Sean had just punked him, but in the end he followed Sean across the gym.

“What's up Sean's butt?” Kyle asked. “You think his trip pissed him off?”

“You asking me?”

Sean's cousin Mark and some of Sean's new eighth-grade friends played dodgeball with us. Junito, Tony, and David.

When dodgeball was over, Sean didn't speak to me or Kyle. He walked by us and went to the bleachers with his eighth-grade crew.

“Sean's tight, huh?” Kyle said.

“Seriously.” We both eyed Sean. “What you think is bothering him?”

“I think he needs to see a counselor.” Kyle pushed his glasses up his nose and crossed his arms. “I'm a little worried about him. What you think?”

It shocked me to hear him say that. I couldn't remember the last time I heard a boy worry about another boy without being called homo. “You playing or you serious?” I asked Kyle. “You really worried about him?”

“Forget it,” he said, turning a bit away from me. “Let's go play basketball. One-on-one. If I win, I get your lunch. You win, you take mine.”

“Chill,” I said. “Let's finish this about Sean.”

“Nah,” Kyle said. “We focused on him but he's over there not even thinking about us.”

“I'm worried about him too,” I said fast, hoping Kyle would open up if he knew I felt the same way.

“Good for you,” Kyle said, walking away.

I wanted to talk more about Sean but it was pointless. Kyle's mouth was now super-glued shut and he'd probably stay that way.

“Alright then,” I yelled as I caught up to him. “Me versus you for lunch and grab me a chocolate milk since you'll be losing.”

“Whatever,” he said.

Me and Kyle went to find Mr. K to get an extra basketball. As we did, I quickly eyed Sean at the bleachers. I still couldn't believe he had walked right by us.

 

The days right before Thanksgiving break, our parents did the usuals to get ready for the holiday. Except for Sean's mom. The supermarkets where Red Hook people shopped stayed packed with families grabbing turkeys, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and other things. On Monday, me and Ma saw Vanessa and her mom in Fairway. The next day Kyle's parents came pushing their shopping cart toward me and my mother while we were in C-Town's soda and chips aisle. Not once that week did I see Sean and his mom shop. That was weird. Every year around this time I bumped into him and Jackie in at least one store in our neighborhood. If not Fairway, then C-Town. If not C-Town, then Pathmark.

On Wednesday, in English class, our teacher let us stretch for a minute before we did independent reading. While Sean was over at the bookshelf, I asked if his mom was being late with her shopping.

Without looking at me, he said, “We not shopping because we going to Philly.” He made his lying move again. This time, his face was almost angry as he tried hard not to make eye contact with me. I wanted to ask him if everything was okay, but there wasn't time. “Everyone, back to your seats,” our teacher yelled.

At my table, I thought about Sean going to Pennsylvania. Even though he had made his lying move before, I guessed maybe he was telling the truth about Philly, because Jackie had a friend there, and Sean's room had pictures and key chains from the times he had gone. I started to wonder if that was where he had bounced to those times he ditched our sleepovers.

Our teachers were happy about the holiday just like people in our projects. Classrooms, doors, and our school's hallway walls were hooked up with pictures of turkeys, Indians and Pilgrims, and colorful signs that said, “Happy Thanksgiving.” A few times me and Sean passed those things and I caught him roll his eyes at them. He had never done that before.

That same week I saw Sean switch up in other ways. When he was with just me and Kyle, he spoke less. Always stuck in his head. I tried rhyming a few times with Sean to open him up. Each time I did, he said, “Nah. I don't feel like rhyming.”

The Monday before Thanksgiving break about ten seventh and eighth graders huddled in a circle outside the school library. From down the hall I could tell they were freestyling. Somebody was beatboxing. Words were flowing. I got to the crowd and squeezed my way almost to the center to see who was rapping. It was Sean. Standing opposite him were his cousin Mark and Mark's homeboy Kevin waiting their turn to freestyle back. Sean wasn't facing me so he didn't see me, and I didn't want him to.

In school, some boys who weren't as popular as Sean acted as if one hi from him made them cooler. Before his trips Sean nodded back at them and even gave them pounds. But the Tuesday before the break me and him went from math class to science and this kid Jeremy passed, gave Sean his hand, and said, “What's good?”

Sean reached his hand toward Jeremy's, but just as he got close, Sean shaped his hand like a gun and shot Jeremy's hand. “Bongh! Bongh!”

Jeremy took his hand back, looking punked.

“Get out of here, you bighead,” Sean said.

Jeremy left with a hurt face on.

It was a short week but every day Sean was dissing somebody, even handicapped kids—kids in wheelchairs, on crutches, and some who were as big as grown-ups but acted the way babies did. On Wednesday, me and Sean were on the way to lunch and a bunch of those kids were waiting for the elevator with their teacher.