Something like right, p.5
Something Like Right, page 5
“Now, look over there. What do you see?” he asked me.
I stared at the boys, huddled in their circle. “Well, they’re staying close to one another. Probably trying to be quiet. Demarco keeps looking around, like he’s waiting on someone. Or looking out for something. I can’t see anybody’s hands. And nobody is relaxed—they all look kinda tense. Like they could move on a dime if they had to.”
Kenny smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good job, city boy. You might be alright. Bet, so we got body language down. The next sign is attention. When someone loves you, they hang on your every word. Remember the little things you tell them. Really make an effort to absorb everything they can from you. They notice things about you others might not. Because they’re paying that close of attention. Now, my puny pupil, watch Demarco specifically. What do you see?”
I zoomed in on Demarco. His head kept turning, but now I could see why. Every time a new car pulled into the station, he’d examine it closely. But he wasn’t waiting for anyone—he was watching for police. Or any other people who might throw off the plan.
Demarco glanced inside the store from time to time, toward the register, eyeing the clerk for the right moment to pounce and probably even counting how many shoppers were inside. He paid attention to everything surrounding him and whispered into the huddle. I could only assume he gave his crew instructions based on his observations. I explained all this to Kenny and got even more praise. Then, we moved on to the final test.
“Now, there’s a million and one ways to tell if somebody loves you,” continued Kenny. “But I’m just hitting you with a quick three, you dig? And this last one is important. When somebody is feeling you, they can’t hide it. It’s plastered all over they face when they talk to you, but most of all, it’s the look in they eyes. It’s a certain kinda look, like … like everything is possible. And they’re ready to take a chance.”
As Kenny finished speaking, two of Demarco’s boys rushed into the store with their hoods up. Another one stood next to the door blocking the entrance. Demarco jumped into an old car with a smoking exhaust, pulled it right up to the front, and kept it running. I couldn’t see what happened inside the store, but after a few minutes, the hooded boys dashed back out, pulled the watchdog along, and jumped into the back of Demarco’s car. The old lemon swerved out of the parking lot on screeching tires and burned down one of the back streets until it was out of sight.
“Wow.” My mouth hung slightly open in disbelief.
Kenny nudged me with his elbow and grinned. “Might want to go ahead and take it to the crib, new kid. Get home safe. Order a pizza.”
* * *
When I returned to Aunt Mel’s, I found her and Smith cuddled up on the couch watching some cheesy movie.
“What up, nephew?” Smith said as I entered.
“Where you been, honey?” Aunt Mel asked.
“I walked to the corner store—tried to call out and let y’all know. I ended up turning around and coming back though. The store got held up.”
Aunt Mel almost jumped over the couch. She came face-to-face with me and grabbed my shoulders, leaning in.
“Held up?! What do you mean? Are you okay? Were you inside?”
“I’m fine, Auntie. I didn’t make it inside. I was right across the street.”
“Oh my God,” she said, enclosing me in a tender hug. “If anything happens to you, Tameka will kill me. Gerald, that must have been the reason for them sirens we heard. Oh, Lord. I keep telling you we need to move outta here. I don’t know why you keep stalling. This is just … I can’t be living around this anymore!”
“Damn, Mel,” Smith said, rising to defend himself. “I ain’t the one who robbed the store! I hear what you saying, but how this get flipped on me?”
“Ugh!” Aunt Mel hollered out, storming into their room and slamming the door.
“You alright, nephew?” Smith came over and put a hand on my shoulder. He smelled like Irish Spring. The mystery of my room’s aroma solved. Aunt Mel probably made him sleep in there when he upset her. No room for him tonight, though. Not on my watch.
“I’m good. Can you order me a pizza though? Please?” I asked.
“No problem. Mel gonna probably call your momma. But I’ll let her know everything fine. And if you need somebody to walk with you from now on, I got you.”
“Appreciate it. I’m good though.”
Smith nodded and headed into the bedroom. I went to my own room, pulled out my phone, and typed E-R-I-T-R-E-A into the search engine. Pages and pages of hits came up. The internet sure did have a boatload of information about a place I had never even heard of before meeting Feven. I settled on an Eritrea travel blog.
The country had desert landscapes and mountain ranges off the coast. The deep blue water sat right on the edge of brown mountains, like yin and yang—like they needed each other. The cities had pure white or sandy buildings with sharp angles and bold columns. The neighborhoods were flat and open. Folks walked around or rode little bikes and scooters. I imagined the conversations they might have in a place like this.
I looked at pictures of Eritreans (women mostly, not gonna lie) with their curly hair and radiant clothing. People shared so much with one another there. I could see it in their expressions, the way they held themselves. It was tough to explain, but I thought they looked like … like a family. I went to the next link and started reading from the top. This time about the history of the country. The next time I saw Feven, I’d impress her with all my knowledge. I hadn’t studied this hard for anything since … well, since ever, really. But when you’re feeling somebody, you pay attention. You pick up on the little things. That’s how you show them you care.
I had learned how to spot a robbery. Now, it was time to learn how to make Feven notice me. How to make her feel like I was the magnet she needed to pull toward.
LESSON 2.2
Never Call It a Date
When I walked into Mr. G’s class the next day, Feven and Kenny were already sitting on the Palmer side of the class. Together. A flash of jealousy narrowed my eyes, soured my expression.
“What’s up, new kid! We saved you a seat!” Kenny shouted across the room. One of the Palmer girls who had started early on her assignment gave him the evil eye over her shoulder. Kenny mouthed I’m sorry and Feven snickered. I rolled my eyes at Kenny and took the empty seat between him and Feven, eyeing him suspiciously. He saw how I was looking at her the day before. Right? Now he wanted to act all charming. Shady ass.
“You told me you never came to class early,” I said to Kenny. “And why are you sitting on the Palmer side?”
Kenny shrugged. “I ran into Miss Veggie Galaxy in the main building and decided to walk her down, like the gentleman I am.” He smiled and Feven shook her head at his silliness.
“Do y’all really want to sit over here? On this side?” I asked.
“I plan to get some work done,” Feven said. “As for Kenneth … who knows?”
“Damn! I’m Kenneth now?!” Kenny hollered. The same Palmer girl from before shushed him something serious without even turning around.
Feven laughed out loud. This time, the Palmer girl turned and glared like she wanted to throw her calculator at Feven’s head. Kenny made a pretend-amused face.
“Anyway, like I told you before, city boy,” continued Kenny. “I’m working smarter. My visitation to the Palmer realm won’t be an everyday thing, but I’m doing my own work today. Just keeping my skills sharp in case we have a pop quiz or something.”
“But you said Mr. G isn’t even going to teach us anything else.” I tapped my fingers on the desk, waiting to see how Kenny planned to wiggle out of my cross-examination.
“Damn, you a prosecutor or something? I remember what I said, legal eagle. But anything is possible. Stay ready so you ain’t gotta get ready.”
“Both of y’all shut up and do your work,” Feven said, already a quarter of the way finished with her daily worksheet.
“Finally,” said the Palmer girl.
I stared straight ahead. The whiteboard had a generation’s worth of scribbles on it, none of them math related, most of them faded beyond legibility. An old fan with metal blades whirred and rattled in the corner of the classroom trailer.
“Aye, what y’all doing after school tomorrow?” Kenny whispered after a few moments, refusing to maintain the silence. Feven darted her eyes nervously.
“I got nothing,” I said.
“I have some stuff to do with my family,” said Feven.
“There’s supposed to be a concert in Rustin Park,” Kenny continued. “Just some local jazz musicians. Some old dudes my grandma knows. She tryna take me out there, and I’m not really tryna go … but if y’all go…”
“You … listen to jazz?” I asked Kenny.
“I’m a Renaissance man, my boy.” He grinned. I shook my head.
“Thanks for the invite. I probably can’t go though,” said Feven.
“Damn,” Kenny said. “City boy?”
I hesitated. Did I want to go? Kenny was cool and all, but for some reason, I got nervous about hanging out with him, just the two of us. Aunt Mel’s voice echoed in my mind. Be careful.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” I finally squeaked. “Maybe.”
Kenny squinted and then shrugged. He pulled out his phone and started texting.
“Oh, well. Another time.”
Class finally quieted down, for the most part, and while the students worked and Kenny played around on his phone, I stole glances at Feven. She gripped her pencil between her index and middle finger when she wrote, instead of holding it between her thumb and forefinger. When she started to get really focused on a problem, she’d flip her pencil around and chew on the eraser part, probably without even thinking about it. Everything about her was interesting to me.
My brain emptied out whatever nonsense usually sloshed around in there to create an archive of the little things that made her her. If I became a Feven expert, I could impress her with my attentiveness. She would see that I was falling for more than just her beauty. That I knew about Eritrea. That I even noticed how she held the stapler upside down when she clipped papers together. Soon, I’d show Feven how much she stayed on my mind. I just needed an opportunity.
* * *
“I can make it! Wow. This never happens. My parents are going to let me come to the concert. Are you guys still trying to go?”
My heart jumped listening to the voice note Feven had sent to the text thread between me, her, and Kenny. “YES,” I replied, without hesitating. I wasn’t going to miss out on any chance to see her. I sprang up and started rifling through my bag to find something nice to wear. Most of my clothes were still at Ma’s house. I tossed things around furiously until Smith’s voice came through the doorway.
“Hey, nephew, you ever see this—oh man, what’s all the commotion? You lose something?”
I eyed the object in Smith’s hands. It looked like a poster of sorts. A collage or something.
“Nah, nah. I, um. I’m going to go to the park and listen to some music,” I responded.
“By yourself?” asked Smith.
“Yeah. Well, no. This girl from school, she’s going to be there. And probably some other people too.”
Smith smirked. “You got yourself a date?”
“It’s not a date,” I said.
“You wouldn’t be trying to find an outfit if it wasn’t a date,” he countered. “Hold tight. I might have something for you.” He disappeared, leaving the collage on my bed. I studied it—a mixture of photos, newspaper clippings, abstract drawings, and neon paint. I recognized the teenage version of my ma in some of the photos. My pops too.
Smith came back to the room with an assortment of shirts. I started to try them on, one by one. They all fit loose. He was taller than me by a couple of inches and wider than me by more than a couple.
“Where’s Aunt Mel?” I asked, trying on my third shirt.
“Working late,” he said, buttoning up the shirt for me and smoothing it down on the shoulders. It was a dark-collared shirt with a pattern of tiny autumn leaves on it. Vintage. Nicer than anything I had.
“This the one?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Thanks.”
“No problem. It’s yours now. Want a ride to the park? Don’t want to sweat out your new shirt before you get to the date.”
“It’s not a date!” I said. “But yeah, can you drive me, please?”
Smith played some low jazz music as we made our way around the block to the park, this time in the dusty old pickup truck since Aunt Mel still had the sedan for work.
“Hey, what was that collage thing you brought into my room?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah!” said Smith. “Forgot what I came in there for. Your mom made that. Years and years ago. Mel used to always get annoyed because Tameka never bought holiday gifts. She always had a new art project that looked like it cost all of thirteen dollars to make.” He laughed. “They always came from the heart though.”
I frowned. “Yeah, there’s a bunch of her old art in our house. She never made me anything though.”
“Really?” said Smith. “I’m surprised by that. Used to not be able to get that girl to do anything but make some art. Mel had a ton of it hanging around our old place. She complains but she loves it. It’s good stuff too. Your mom is talented. Most of what we still have is in the garage though. I can go through it with you if you want. I’m sure Mel wouldn’t mind if you take some stuff.”
“Okay,” I said. My thoughts buzzed. I wondered what I’d find in the garage.
“Speaking of,” continued Smith, “you, uh, talk to your parents lately?”
My ears got hot. “No, not really.”
“Yeah, Mel said Tameka’s been calling her … says you won’t answer when she calls your phone.” I stayed silent.
“Hey, look, I get it,” said Smith. “But your mom … she’s just worried about you. Give her a call when you’re ready. At least think about it. Sound cool?”
“Yeah, that’s cool,” I agreed. Things didn’t sound so bad when Smith said them. He had a kindness about him that made me want to listen. We pulled up to Rustin Park, a beautiful spread of green fields with an artificial lake in the distance. Twilight cast cool shadows on the trees and made the water shimmer. I could see groups of people walking across the park toward the dock where the band had begun to set up.
“Enjoy your date, nephew. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Smith chuckled as I got out of his car at the entrance to the park.
“It’s not a—ugh.” I gave up. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No sweat. Call me when you’re ready to come home. Enjoy the music.”
I was early. I pulled out my phone and realized that I had rushed so quickly to get dressed, I hadn’t even checked to see if Kenny responded to Feven. There weren’t any new messages in our trio thread since I sent my YES. I wondered if he would still make it. Either way, I’d get to spend some time with Feven. I couldn’t remember the last time I had something to look forward to.
I walked through the park, killing time, kicking up clods of dirt and pulling up weeds that looked like flowers. The event staff for the concert put the finishing touches on the temporary stage. Some errant notes and chords rang out from sound checks. I watched tiny fish jump through the surface of the pond, sending ripples back toward its edge. After about ten minutes, I saw Feven in the distance, so pretty she looked like a mirage. I froze in place as my heart pounded. My senses felt mixed up and drifty, like a snow globe.
“Hi, Zay!” Feven waved and smiled as she approached me. She wore a long mauve summer dress and black sneakers, with her hair pulled back in a bun.
“Um, hi.” My voice croaked. “I mean, hey. What’s up?”
Feven snickered, covering her mouth with her hand. I laughed along with her.
“I thought you couldn’t make it. What happened to your family thing?” I asked.
“Well, I kinda told them this was a concert the school put together and that I could get extra credit to come. The only time my parents cut me some slack is for academic stuff. But I don’t know … it sounded fun. And you said you might be here, so…”
Butterflies in my stomach. Feven cleared her throat. “Where’s Kenny?” she asked.
“I … I don’t know. Should we call him? Let’s call him,” I said.
“Let’s,” said Feven. She dialed him from her phone multiple times but never got an answer. After the third or fourth call, we left a tandem voicemail.
“Hi, Kenneth, this is Feven!”
“And the city boy. We’re at the park waiting on you and your grandma to pull up!”
“This was your idea! Don’t stand us up!” Feven said, sweet but stern.
“And you ugly,” I added. We both burst into laughter as she hung up the phone.
I mean … it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever if Kenny didn’t make it. Without him around, I could guide the conversation and play to my strengths with Feven. Avoid getting overshadowed by Kenny’s confidence and charm. I felt my pulse quicken. This was really real. I’d get to spend an entire evening with the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.
A chord rang out in the distance. We both turned our heads. The stagehands had completed the stage. The colored lights shined, and a small crowd of people had filled the seating area. Mostly old folks with lawn chairs and light blankets. This was probably the highlight of their week. Peopled swayed gently to a baseline while the lead singer from the opening band crooned out over a velvety tenor sax melody.
“You want to get a little closer?” I asked.
“Huh?” Feven replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh. No. Um. To the stage. Not to me. I wasn’t trying to … I’m sorry.”
