Huey Freeman was being watched.
This was nothing new, of course. Various government agencies had been keeping tabs on him for years with some of the world's most sophisticated surveillance technology, thanks to the Patriot Act. And even without their constant monitoring of his 'revolutionary' activities, there was always the natural mistrust that police officers in suburban Woodcrest had of a young black man walking down the street.
But no, this time there no police, at least not that he could see. And the tingling feeling at the back of his neck didn't scream government agents either. A mystery.
So he decided to ignore it. The weather prediction of 80 degrees had been about ten degrees short, and he was burning up. It was days like this that made him consider getting rid of his trademark afro, which felt like it was sucking in enough heat to melt the polar ice caps. He was sweaty and tired and in a hurry to get the bag of ice he'd gone to the store to buy home before it completely melted. If whoever out there watching him had nothing better to do, he didn't give a damn.
The last block was brutal, and he practically collapsed on the porch letting the house's natural shade cool him. He was so exhausted that he almost didn't notice the figure that had come to stand behind him, on the sidewalk next to the porch.
Almost. As if by instinct, he whirled around jumping into a subtle martial arts stance. "What the f-" He trailed off as he realized what the 'threat' really was. A girl, fifteen or so with rich dark skin and meticulously braided hair, which she wore tied back in a simple ponytail. She was slender, almost gangly and an inch or so taller than Huey despite the growth spurt he'd received in his early teenage years. She had an amazing figure, and thanks to the temperature her shorts and tank top left very little to the imagination. Well, everything except her eyes, hidden as they were behind a pair of comically large sunglasses.
Huey took all of this in within a few seconds' time, managing not to let his surprise and. . .attraction register on his face. This girl was fine, and he suddenly felt pretty stupid, frozen in his martial arts stance. He abruptly dropped his hands, struggling to find something to say.
"That's a nice stance," she said, amusement showing in her grin. She had slightly crooked teeth, but a completely unashamed smile that made it cutely unique rather than disfiguring. "Jeet Kune Do, right?"
Huey blinked. "What?" was all he could manage to say. What did this random chick know about martial arts?
"I'm sorry," she continued apologetically. "I should probably introduce myself, after following you to your house and scaring you half to death, huh. My name is Mercedes. Mercedes Dior." She held out a hand, which Huey warily shook.
"So that was you spyin' on me, huh?"
"Guilty as charged," she admitted.
"Why?" Huey asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Cute or not, every sixth sense he had was telling him that there was a lot more to Mercedes than she was letting on.
"Oh, I'm a fan of yours, Huey Freeman," she said.
"A fan?"
"Your column, the Boondocks, for instance. I think its remarkable. Young intellectuals are very hard to find these days, but your column contains more truth than the entire rest of that suburbanite rag combined. I'm surprised the powers at be haven't censored you yet, to be honest."
"They try," said Huey smugly. "I won the newspaper's Young Writers Contest, and one of the rewards was my own column in the op/ed pages for a year." He cocked his head. "Are you from around here, Mercedes?"
She chuckled. "No, I'm from Detroit. My aunt lives in Woodcrest, and I've visited occasionally. I'm living with her now though, Woodcrest's newest minority."
"Welcome to a very small club," Huey muttered. "There's-"
"Damn!" said a voice from behind the two. Huey and Mercedes whirled around to find Riley standing in the doorway in his trademark beater, various chains dangling around his neck. He had a Hi-C in his left hand, and with his right he lowered his stunna shades to get a better look at the scene before. "Who dat, Huey?"
Huey rolled his eyes. "This is Mercedes. Mercedes, this is my little brother Riley". He coulda sworn he saw Riley mouthing 'stripper name', but given the girl's presence decided not to go on ahead with an ass-whoopin. For now.
"Hi," said Mercedes, apparently oblivious to the way Riley was ogling her from the doorway. "Nice to meet you."
"Ooh, she proper too," Riley chuckled, walking out to join them. "I'm impressed, big bro. She crucial. Why you ain't tell me-"
"Would you shut up", Huey ordered tersely. He'd changed his mind about the ass-whoopin. Just as soon as Mercedes left. . .
As if on cue, Mercedes started to back away. "Well, I better get going," she sighed. "Errands to run, on even on a day like this. Is there a time when we could meet though, Huey? Grab dinner or something?"
"Uh, yeah. it's a Burger King-" He stopped to glare at his snickering little brother. "A Burger King right down Blushing Dove Lane."
"Yeah, I think I know where that is. Um, are you free this evening?"
Huey nodded, still trying to comprehend the fact that he was being asked out. On. . .a date? Was it a date?
Mercedes flashed that wide, confident grin of hers. "It's a date."
"The hell is wrong with you?" growled Huey once he and Riley were both in the house.
"What? You mad cuz I embarrassed you in front of yo boo?" Riley laughed. "Man, that was nothing. You lucky I didn't really try and fuck yo game up."
"Watch that language, boy!" thundered Granddad from the kitchen.
"Sorry granddad!" Riley called back. He turned back to Huey with a grin. "Mercedes, huh. Bet you she a stripper."
"She's my age!"
"With that body? She could be a stripper. She could be my stripper anyway."
"Oh please. What do you know about strippers anyway, you hit puberty like two days ago."
"Hater," Riley shot back. "I still got mo' hoes than you, Huey!"
The worst part was that this was actually true. With a lean, muscular frame and rapidly growing height, many of Woodcrest Jr. High's girls were beginning to take notice of him. It was the novelty, probably. He was urban through and through, with a confident (borderline arrogant) swag and star spot on the basketball team. The high school coach couldn't wait get a hold of him in a few years, and his gleaming potential certainly didn't hurt his standing with the ladies.
Huey was something of a different story. While he was a talented writer and could out-argue most adults on any political issue, his track record with girls was unimpressive. He was shy and aloof and his perpetually grim demeanor tended to scare off anyone who managed to develop a passing interest in him. Well, except for-
"Nigga, you gotta stop daydreamin' in the middle of conversations like that," Riley cut in. "People gon think you crazy."
"Uh huh," said Huey dismissively.
"You was thinking about yo boo, the stripper? Ha!"
He'd been thinking of someone else, actually, but the comment reminded him: he had an ass-whoopin to deliver.
In the kitchen, Granddad watched the latest Snoop Dogg video as he actively ignored Riley's pleas for help and mercy. "Those boys," he muttered, taking a long swig of coffee. But the cutey-pie onscreen shaking her spectacular rear end immediately erased all other thoughts from his head. "I do looove me some BET!"
"Why hello there, lil girl," Uncle Ruckus called out in his trademark grating rasp. "How you doin this fine Saturday aftahnoon?"
If Jazmine had been a few yards further down the sidewalk, she probably could have pretended not to hear him. As it was, she just sighed, turning around to face Woodcrest's least popular resident. "Um, hi. I'm fine, just heading home to get out of this heat."
"Uh-huh, I undahstand perfectly. Y'can't be too careful with that mullattah complexion o'yours. Spend too much time in the sun, and 'fore ya know it ya look like one o' them ugly dark-skinneded gals."
Jazmine nodded noncommittally, hoping he would just go on his merry way.
"That's why I got all these creams an' lotions an' stuff," he continued, hefting the large brown grocery bag in his arms. "My revitaliaigo is bad enough as it. . .ain't no way I'm gonna let the sun darken my hideous coal skin any more." He paused as if in thought. Like that one gal I saw Huey Freeman with this afternoon."
Jazmine had been turning to escape, but at this bit of information she froze, whirling back around. "What did you say?"
"Hehe, that lil Freeman boy, Huey. Talkin' to one of them dark skinneded gals an' everything. I thought to myself, 'why don't that lil nappy headed boy go after a nice, decent light-skinned gal, like yourself?'"
Jazmine didn't care about the light vs. dark skin that Ruckus obsessed over. She was more interested in the observation that Huey was with another girl. Doing what?
She hadn't meant to voice that part, but must have done so on accident because Ruckus replied, "Oh, they wasn't doin much now. Just talkin' and flirtin' and all." He paused. "You alright, child? Y'look like someone jus' ran over your dog."
"I'm fine," she said softly. "Excuse me, I have to go."
It was an interesting relationship that Huey and Jazmine shared. As children, she had always been hopelessly infatuated with Huey, even though he didn't like girls at all, much less her. The only times he would really talk to her was when discussing politics or philosophy or some equally obscure subject, at least in the realm of ten-year-olds.
Five years later, Huey hadn't changed all that much. He was taller, and had a trim goatee that made him look much more grown-up, but that was about it. His revolutionary zeal was undiminished, and while he was interested in girls and a social life, all of that seemed to take a distant second place to his true passion.
Jazmine had undergone something of a metamorphosis though. She hadn't gotten much taller, but at fifteen had a curvy, voluptuous figure that was the envy of the other girls at Woodcrest Community High School. She wore her wild, reddish curls pulled back now by a headband, so that they erupted from the back of her head like a bronze inferno. It was a fetching, unique look that had caused more than one male classmate to lose a thought mid-sentence as she walked down the hallway.
She was smart (five advanced placement classes), athletic (already a varsity track and field star), and pretty popular (if seven different guys asking her to homecoming last year was any indication). Yet, she'd never gotten past Huey Freeman.
They had ended up going together for homecoming, and he hadn't even asked. She'd suggested it, and he'd reluctantly agreed. Then, on the night of the dance, he'd come by to pick her up from her house. Wearing a suit and one of his very, very rare smiles. As the night progressed, everything seemed to be going so well. They ate and danced and laughed (yes, Huey had laughed!) and ended up clicking better than Jazmine had ever hoped.
But then. . .Jazmine sighed. No use bringing up painful memories. Suffice to say, the night hadn't ended well, and she and Huey had been sent right back to square one, where they'd remained for the past nine months. Except now there was other girl talking to Huey. . .flirting with Huey? Somehow, despite Ruckus's beliefs to the contrary, Jazmine doubted she was ugly.
It was these thoughts swirling through her head that put her in a perfectly foul mood by the time she got home. She opened the door, slammed it shut behind her, and was about to head upstairs when her Mom's gentle voice stopped her.
"Honey, what's wrong?" asked Sarah Dubois gently from the living room where she was watching Oprah. "All of Woodcrest probably heard that door slamming just now."
"Its nothing, Mom."
"Uh huh." Sarah briefly considered whether or not to press the issue, deciding to leave it alone for the time being. She'd have bet money it had something to do with that Freeman boy (that was the only thing Sarah had ever seen that could get under her daughter's skin). "Well, don't forget, its your turn to do the dishes," she called up after Jazmine. No reply.
Sarah chuckled and put Oprah back on full volume. Teenagers.
"Nigga, get out tha bathroom!" Riley shouted, pounding on the door. "C'mon man, I gotta GO."
Huey ignored his younger brother as he checked his hair and goatee in the mirror for the final time. Usually, he didn't really care much what they looked like, but he figured that for a date (was it a date?) he should try to look. . .handsome.
It was a foreign concept to him. When he looked in the mirror, he saw many things. Freedom fighter, rebel, revolutionary. . .but ladies man? It was absurd. Yet, here he was. Afro picked, goatee neatly trimmed, a Rocawear polo on and his granddad's watch around his wrist.
"Nigga, is you preenin in there?! You in there getting' all primped'n shit?? You gay, Huey! Yo ass goin to BURGER KING!! Don't nobody dress up for no BURGER KING!! Now if you don't get the hell out this bathroom yo whole Malcolm X library gon get a golden shower!! I'ma go R. Kelly on ALL yo-"
The door opened, so abruptly that Riley almost fell in. "Relax," Huey said. "I'm out."
Still breathing heavily from his little rant, Riley surveyed Huey for a good five seconds before bursting into peals of laughter. "Damn, Huey. I ain't never seen you that dressed up. You takin' this shit serious, huh. And- wait, is that Granddad's watch?"
"Shut up," Huey hissed. "I'm gonna bring it back."
"Uh-huh. Suuuuure, you are. Heh, I guess I should be proud of my big brother, finally movin past Jazmine and everything." He slapped Huey on the back. "Anyway, Bye! niggas gotta go!"
With this heat, there weren't many people out and about at Burger King, so it was pretty easy to find Mercedes sitting in a corner booth, looking even more gorgeous than she had that afternoon, even though she was wearing the same (decidedly skimpy) outfit. Huey wondered if taking the time to change had been taking it too far.
Her smile brightened as soon as she noticed him, and she eagerly beckoned him to sit down across from her.
"You didn't order," Huey observed aloud. Indeed, except for a manila folder, the table was empty.
Mercedes shrugged. "Vegetarian," she explained.
"Okay. He looked again at the manila folder. "Whats that?"
"Part of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually." She sighed, you see, I haven't been completely honest with you."
"About what?"
"Well, about just being a fan of your work. I mean, I am! Don't get it twisted. But the reason I'm here is a lot more serious than that."
"Serious. . .how?"
"Serious as in. . .we believe the fate of the nation could be at stake."
"We?" Huey echoed, confused.
"My organization. Black Underground Resistance Nationalists. . ."
"BURN," said Huey. "I thought that was an urban legend."
Mercedes gave him a pointed look. "I assure you, BURN is real. The speculative internet bloggers that you've no doubt encountered are by and large clueless about us, but our existence is one of the few things they've managed to get right."
"Well, how do I know you're for real?" Huey asked, his suspicious nature returning.
She tapped the folder. "Read, and all will be explained."
Authors note: Well, not only is this my first attempt at a Boondocks fic, this is my first fan fiction in years. Please, read and tell me what you think and if I should continue. The Boondocks is pure genius, and it's a blast writing these characters.
Well, that's all for now. Remember, R&R. Peace!
-Godfather