A/N: Hello! Salam! Was gudd? So I'm excited and kinda nervous because this is my first Boondocks fanfic. It will be extended obviously, I just focused this chapter on Michael Caesar. Which is my favorite character, why? Well, he has a brighter view on most of the depressing/realistic political or non political views Huey Freeman comes up with.. And I like that. I wish they'd include him in the series... Of course it would be better with McGruder back.
They say the heat makes people crazy. They never said anything about the cold though.
It was cold, the worst kind of cold; the one that caused your bones to scream out in pain once you step outside.
I wondered how much longer I would be standing at the platform waiting for the train to arrive. Especially considering the fact it was already flurrying and the gloomy weather was having a bigger effect on my irritable morning attitude.
I don't mind cold weather, but what I do mind is having to wake up at an ungodly hour just to spend seven hours in a social institute where the belief that learning the Pythagorean theorem would definitely benefit students rather than learning how to file a 1040A tax return. Then once we graduate, we are solemnly expected to succeed and live a normal life
Why can't they teach us more important things at school? Why are the morons always in charge?
I was pulled out of my train of thought at the yellow Q sign flashing rapidly in front of my eyes. I stepped onto the train, thankful for finding a seat closest to the platform screen doors. Putting my earphones in, I closed my eyes as I listened to one of my favorite MC's, Mos Def.
Brooklyn is, statistically speaking, one of the most culturally diverse places in the world. You will find African-Americans, Hispanics, Arabs, Desis, Asians, Native Americans, and many other races. Many ignorant people like to think that Brooklyn is made up of ghettos, but that is utterly false. Look at Mill Basin, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn Heights, and Park Slope. They're several of the richest areas in the five boroughs. I guess that is what makes Brooklyn so exclusive, because there are ghettos, suburban places, and fine luxurious areas. There are neighborhoods that are so diverse it's placing this borough as a prime example of a microcosm of the world.
It's not too bad here; at least I know I would be able to get out more once I graduate. I have a vast interest in culture. I've always wanted to travel, and gain more knowledge about history and culture of different countries around the world. Maybe I could start with Brazil. Yeah. Brazil.
As the train halted to the stop, I gathered my belongings—which consisted of my green backpack, and my navy blue fleece jacket—and stepped out the metallic doors.
It was seven thirty. I had thirty minutes until school started. With no hesitation, I left Avenue M station and walked up the pedestrian bridge. There was a small bagel store I loved going to if I ever had time in the morning. "Paterson Bagels" it was called.
As I made my way down the bridge and walked straight ahead, I spotted the dull green banner and OPEN sign on the door.
The bell chimed as I walked in, I noticed there were more people in the shop today than usual. A white woman that looked like she could be in her mid-thirties was holding a child in her arms, whilst making an order.
As I waited in line, I couldn't help but get an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach that usually meant something bad was going to happen today; I hated those feelings. I shrugged it off and remained silent.
I greeted the storekeeper politely after ordering the usual cream and cheese bagel with a cup of coffee. Then, I gave her my signature smile, followed by a flirtatious wink. Cliché, but hey, she was pretty.
7:50
Crap!
I exited the store and fast walked towards P.S. 118. It was an averaged sized school with an overpopulated amount of students. Every class had at least 40 or more students. A lot more than your average school, but this was normal here in BK.
Walking through the rusted blue doors, I managed to make it in at 7:55. I saw my friend Tyrese talking to a girl, she was about 5'4, dark-skinned, with straightened hair that fell all the way to her back and big hoop earrings that covered almost half of her cheek. She carried her iPhone in her hand as she gave Tyrese flirtatious smiles along their conversation. I rolled my eyes and approached my friend, causing her to step aside and give me the biggest death glare a woman could possibly give a man.
"Yeah, I'll hit you up later Tyrese." She said as she turned on her 3 inch heels and walked away in a teasing manner.
"Caez, why you always gotta cock-block a nigga?" He whined in my face
"'Cause, I told you she's trouble, Tyrese" I replied and crossed my arms
"How would you know? Just cause y'all was together before doesn't mean that you know her like dat. I mean shit; maybe she'll treat a real nigga different this time."
I rolled my eyes; Tyrese could be an ass at times, but I try my best to deal with him. That's how most people around me act, eh, so might as well.
"Shut up." I scoffed
"Man you just mad she like me more den you. That's all."
I was getting angry now. "You ain't shit Tyrese; don't try to act like you got game now. Two weeks ago you was whining about how lonely you are. You're just a thirsty ass nigga."
Tyrese shoved me and got into a fighting stance "Man fuck you! You always tryna ruin everythin'; always getting in my goddamn business!"
"You want some, nigga? Is this what you want? I thought you knew better!" He continued rambling.
Now I could avoid this situation by using my brain and simply walking away. But for some reason my senses told me to fight. Before I knew it, I threw a hard punch to Tyrese's face that knocked him the fuck up.
His nose oozed a dark red and his hands quickly covered his face. Breathing hastily, he looked at me and balled his hand into a fist.
"Yous about wish you never did that." He mumbled.
I smirked; Tyrese was far from intimidating to me. Sure, standing at 6'0 with a fit build from ballin' you'd think he was tough. But he's not the brightest; and lately he's been hatin' on me because I actually get dates and he doesn't…which does not surprise me because he treats women like shit. Only reason I was friends with him is 'cause our mothers were close and we regularly balled on our local court. But soon both of us grew up, and unfortunately for him, he started chillin with niggas that belonged to a street gang on the streets of Bedstuy. I told him joining a gang was the dumbest thing he could do but my advice was pointless. I don't know if he's with them or not, though he often talks about an initiation or some shit. I don't buy it but whatever; back to reality:
Tyrese ran towards me with his fist and just as he was about to throw it, I blocked it with my right hand and kneed him in the stomach, causing him to clutch it in pain.
Just as our fight was about to get heated, security took me and Tyrese to the principal's office.
Great.
/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\
"I don't think we can stay here no more, Michael." said a thirty year old tired-looking woman in a slight Jamaican accent. She was short, standing at 5'1 and had dark skin and dreadlocks similar to mine, only longer and they were tied back.
"But ma, you know Tyrese is an idiot. I ain't my fault this time!"
"It's not about that, Caez."
I looked at my mother skeptically; I was currently sitting on my couch in our living room at my apartment. I got suspended for three days and I was currently arguing with my mother about my current situation at school.
Instead of her berating me, which is what I expected, I was faced with a calm and sad attitude. Bizarre.
"What do you mean then?" I asked
"Caez, I don't know how to say this, but we're movin'."
Before I could muster what she said. I went inside my room and shut the door. The fuck you mean leave BK? Where the hell are we supposed to go!?
"Michael Rashid Caesar! Get your ass out of there, we still gotta talk!"
"Ain't no talkin' to be done ma! We've been here all our lives! Why we movin' now?" I yelled from the other side.
A silent pause was to be heard, followed by a sigh and a fragile voice saying: "We have no money, that's why."
I opened the door slowly and looked at her. "What?"
"I'm sorry Michael, but Jerome took the last of our savings and just...left." Her eyes became watery.
"Don't give me that bullshit!" I yelled "If it wasn't for that dumb ass boyfriend of yours always stealin' from you we'd be fine! What happened to that last check I gave you from work?!"
She didn't respond as she sobbed and sat on the couch.
"I'm... s...sorry!"
"Where are we gonna go, ma?!"
She sniffled and looked at me with pleading eyes, "You remember your older cousin Kaleem right?"
"You mean the one that won the lottery four years ago? Don't they live in Maryland or some shi—oh wait, hell no. I ain't movin' four states away ma! Why can't we just stay with Uncle James in Harlem?!"
"Your Uncle has six kids to raise on his own! We can't just ask him to take us both in! Besides, I talked to your cousin, he said he'd be more than happy to help us and he got lots of space in his house. It's in the suburbs too. You'll get to live in a house Caez! Ain't that better than these raggedy ass projects we're stuck in!? Every day I hear gunshots comin' from these crazy kids outside. You know I don't want you near that. It's going to be good for us. I promise you."
I sighed, knowing I couldn't possibly win this argument. I knew she was right about her point where this neighborhood was getting worse and worse by the day. However, I hated how all my hard work went to waste because she was with a boyfriend that didn't know shit about treating a woman properly. He verbally abused my mother all the time, but I haven't seen him hit her physically; which was only good for him.
For those of you that are wondering where my real father's at; well, he's currently in Jamaica. When my mom was pregnant with little Caez, she emigrated from Jamaica to Brooklyn, NY with my father. However, 3 days before their flight, my father passed away from a sudden heart attack. Or at least that's what she tells me. I know there's more to it but I never bring it up, because she gets glossy eyed whenever I do. So I dropped the subject.
We lived with our aunt in Bedford-Stuyvesant aka Bed-stuy until 1998, where we settled in a medium sized, and nicely furnished apartment in Flatbush. I was two years old. I remember our neighborhood was a pleasant one; one that was filled with color, culture, and good people. Back then where all our neighbors of different ethnicities knew one other, back then when good friendships were established, and back then where we'd throw good ol' block parties. I'm not saying it was all perfect, because nothing is perfect. I'm just saying things were better back then. That's all.
I looked at my mother and lolled my head into my hands, rubbing my forehead.
"So when are we leaving?" I asked
"Two days, your Uncle is driving us to LaGuardia on Wednesday."
I sighed as I walked inside and started packing my belongings. This was gonna be one long ass night.
I don't know when things got bad; I think it was back in 2005. I was seven years old and I remember ballin' on the court with Tyrese, it was going fine, until we both heard gunshots; several gunshots.
Tyrese and I ran across the court to see a young Hispanic woman screaming and crying. I couldn't remember why or what exactly happened, but I do remember my mother telling me that there were new people moving in and that her son—my old friend, Franco Sanchez—just passed away. He was a year older than me, and when I grew up, I knew that he was shot and killed in a drive-by accidentally when he was walking home from our local C-town across the street.
From there, we had more shootings. Eventually it escalated where the violence reached our schools. Wherever violence spread, you'd find poverty. Times weren't that great during Bush's presidency, everything became worse and worse over time.
Police brutality worsened also, it is known that the NYPD is one of the most corrupt police departments ever. They themselves are the biggest criminals and lawbreakers that exist in the city. They sure can be good when they want to, however, it seems that nowadays if you just say something they don't like; or look a certain way, they will not hesitate to arrest you and beat you with a stick—or worse, pepper spray you till you lose your eyesight permanently.
This has happened to me before. Apparently, I was accused of insubordination because I was walking down the subway stairs wearing a hoodie with my earphones plugged in. A police officer suspected I didn't have a MetroCard and assumed that I did not pay for my ride.
I was pushed into the ground and a natural reflex of mine is to defend myself against a random stranger that just tackled me to the ground for no reason. Be aware that I had earphones and I was wearing a hoodie, therefore I was not aware of what was actually going on until shortly.
When I realized that I was being apprehended for something I was falsely accused of. I went into rage and began saying listing my so-called constitutional rights. This only made the cop laugh and ignore me.
I was in handcuffs and I was set to the side where he went to call his partner over. They both asked me a shit ton of questions that I answered truthfully and confidently. I wasn't going to let two pigs scare me.
What's your name kid?
"Michael Caesar"
And how old are you?
"Seventeen."
I didn't see your ticket or card. Let me see it.
"I'm kind of handcuffed here."
…Eventually,
The cops realized that I was innocent and had no reason to question me any longer. So they apologized for their actions. Well, more like them telling me to stay out of trouble and to get on home. Their abhorrent behavior caused me a black eye and a headache.
Pigs.
I'm not saying all the force is bad, really. It's just lately my people have been seeing more of their bad side than good. And most of the time, we're accused of things we haven't done. It's a cruel world but what are you gonna do about it?
Tuesday passed by quickly and before you knew it, it was 8:07 AM on a Wednesday. I woke up and did my normal routine, only this time, instead of taking the train to school. I got into the backseat of my Uncle's old Toyota.
I turned around and realized this would be the last time I would see the only place that I called home. Suddenly I felt the urge to appreciate what I had left of my own hometown, so I took in my surroundings, beautifully. I opened the window and looked outside. I breathed in the slightly polluted air; it never bothered me. I loved it all, and I wish that I appreciated what I had instead of complained. God, it was such a beautiful borough, and I would miss it till the very end…
Goodbye New York.
Goodbye Brooklyn.
A/N: Review? Please? I would appreciate anything really, tell me if its good, bad, boring, too long, too short... Just remember, this is only the first chapter. I will try my best to update..
It disappoints me that most of the good stories in the section have last been updated 5+ years ago. Its alright though, I understand we all have lives to get to. But I am adamant to finish this fanfic, I think it'll be a good one.
Also feel free to PM me if you have any suggestions/questions...etc.
Peace.
-M