A/N: Happy 2008! I hope that everyone had safe and enjoyable New Year. As I said before, I had to take a bit of a break, but I'm back! I've passed my Commercial Written Exam and will be studying for my FOI (Fundamentals of Instruction) and CFI (Certified Flight Instructor) Written Exams and will be taking them probably before the end of this month. By June I should be a full-fledged Helicopter Flight Instructor! Yaaaay!! I've finally added an avatar to my profile, so if you wanna see what I look like, check it out.
5 a.m. and Riley was wide awake. He watched the shadow of trees born from light of streetlamps dance on the spackled ceiling as the wind blew outside. The only sound inside the room was the soft snore that rose from his brother as he quietly slept.
Up until then Riley's sleep that night had been restless, with him finally rousing much earlier than anticipated due to his mind's inability to slumber. Blinking a few times, Riley swung slender legs over the side of his bed and sat. By his foot were his discarded jeans, left in a careless heap after he had undressed hours before. Bending down to collect them, he pulled the garment into his lap and sifted through the many pockets. From the right front pocket, he pulled the pair of brass knuckles given to him by Thugnificent. He placed them on the bed together; their metal meeting on the sheets with a soft clink. In the cell phone pocket of the left leg, he pulled his Pilipino-crafted balisong and held it as he let the pants slide from his lap. Riley fiddled with the weapon for a few minutes…staring at it. Even in the low light of the darkened room, he could make out the blood that remained on the blade.
The blood.
He made that man bleed. Never mind that he deserved it for attacking Thugnificent; Riley had made that man bleed in a way that no child his age should ever have to make anyone bleed. The memory for Riley had been clear.
It was like puncturing soft leather. If Riley hadn't been moving so quickly, the flesh might not have yielded as easily. Or not. The blade of the balisong was very sharp and did its work well.
Riley's brow knitted together as he perfectly recalled the line of blood that trailed the tip of his knife after it had come free of the thigh he lacerated. Had some of that blood gotten on his shirt? He didn't know; he hadn't looked. It didn't feel important to him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the foreign sweat again on his right arm—the press of the man's throat against his forearm as he held him in place with fear, not strength.
It was starting to sink in he supposed.
Riley licked his suddenly dry lips and stood up from the bed. Moving quietly, he headed for the bathroom. Inside with the door closed and locked, the boy began to feel ill. In a daze it seemed, he let his eyes drag from the mats on the floor to the wallpaper, to the towels—the tub—the sink—the tile on the walls. He was hot and dizzy. Standing barefoot on icy tiles, he waited for the wave to subside.
'Come on Riley, its all in yo'head, jus be easy.' The boy's inner voice whispered. Moving over to the sink, he pulled up the stopper and let the basin fill about half way with cold water. Feeling the level sufficient, Riley turned off the water, then lowered his head into it enough for his eyes, forehead and forward hairline to be submerged. Riley gave a weary sigh as the cold water on his searing forehead gave almost instant relief. Remaining there for a few moments more, he straightened back up and allowed the water soaked up by his braided hair to drain down his face and onto his shoulders--holding on to his balisong all the while.
It was retracted now, his blade—blood setting into the metal hidden within the handles. He stared at it a bit longer, water droplets falling from his brow to his wrist as he looked down at the weapon in his left hand. Finally Riley bared the blade and lowered it into the water of the sink. He rubbed his thumbs over the steel warmed by his body heat until all the blood he could see had washed off. Letting the water drain out after setting the balisong on the edge of the basin, Riley grabbed a towel and patted his head dry.
Taking a deep breath, Riley felt himself getting better. The water seemed to help clear his mind. He would need to be cool so as not to let onto his brother and grandfather the bizarre thoughts banging round his consciousness. Just as well, he didn't need to be a head case when he went to school on Monday. Riley had figured he would take his brother's advice on being around other like-aged children. He needed something to counteract the innocence robbing experience that had so recently etched itself into Riley's memory.
"Uh, hey Riley?"
It was a quarter past noon at J. Edgar Hoover Elementary and the cafeteria was abuzz with the diurnal clamor that was feeding time. The school heads had staggered the start of lunches for the different grades, having K-2nd enter first, 3rd and 4th next, then 5th and 6th last. The idea was to keep the students rotating. Staggered or not though, for about five minutes everyday the entire student body converged on the northern side of the building to consume their meals.
It was a far cry for Riley, seeing that sea of white faces all the time as opposed to the predominantly black school he and his brother had transferred from. Despite the fact that he had been in Woodcrest for nearly two years, he still couldn't feel completely comfortable being one of ten or so people of color in the school—and just because you were a person of color didn't necessarily mean you were black. With the exception of maybe one or two faculty members (just to say the school system employed minorities including those of African-American descent) Riley was sure he and his brother were the only two wholly black students in the entire building.
Up until a few seconds ago, he had been picking at the breaded Salisbury steak and 'gravy food product' that was on his tray while leaning his face heavily on the left arm he propped it on. For his sides, he had unsalted, thus unflavored green beans, cardboard mashed potatoes still in the perfect half sphere of the scoop that had portioned it, chocolate milk in a carton, and for desert, tasteless banana pudding. Even the affluent Woodcrest schools weren't immune to shitty cafeteria food—which probably explained why so many kids brought their lunches from home.
Now, a sack lunch from the house was nothing new to Riley. Mother would say from time to time that money was tight and that food from home could go further from week to week. There was even a time when he and Huey took bologna and mayonnaise sandwiches with some crackers to school everyday for a month with only water from school to drink. These white kids were bringing shit like basil chicken in orange sauce and yogurt smoothies to eat. There was actually a girl next to him right then eating penne pasta with olive oil, diced tomatoes, parmesan cheese and garlic with Fiji water to drink. Really, what 3rd grader would drink such superciliously priced bottled water with a freggin' school lunch?? Riley had been fighting the urge to slap the three-dollar-a-bottle drinking water out of her hand ever since they sat down.
He had been wallowing in his jaded thoughts for the past ten minutes before the voice to his left had called him out of it. He lifted his eyes to meet the timid, if not bashful gaze of a sandy-haired blue-eyed boy.
"C-can I sit with you?" The boy asked shyly.
Riley raised a single eyebrow without moving his head much from its prop. Why the hell was he asking?
"If you want." He replied while working to plaster his most severe 'who gives a fuck' expression on his face.
The boy smiled gingerly as he took the empty seat at the end of the table. Riley had since returned to picking at his food as the newcomer sat. He only looked at the boy again when he felt his eyes on him too long.
"Nigga whutchu lookin' at?" Riley inquired tiredly and without effort.
"Nothing. I'm Cory, by the way. Cory Whitehead!" The boy replied with an eagerness that seemed a little too joyful for Riley's tastes.
After a few moments more transpired without any additional dialog, Riley felt himself beginning to annoy. This Cory person hadn't even touched whatever he had in his thermal lunch bag for him looking at Riley the entire time.
"Don't you know it ain't polite ta'stare." Riley said at last.
The boy continued to smile. "Sorry, I just think you're cool."
What? Was this lil white nigga gay or something?? Riley wasn't even sure he wanted to continue sharing the same space with this kid—but then thought better of it. All while attending J. Edgar Hoover Elementary, Riley, like his brother, hadn't made any attempts at forging any type of friendship with any of the other students—well, except for Jazmine, but she didn't count. This was mostly because as far as school was concerned, the Freeman brothers wanted only to keep to themselves. But in light of all the things that had been going on, maybe at least an acquaintanceship would be beneficial.
"Whatevea nigga." Riley replied at last. "You in my class or sumthin'? I have a hard time tellin' cuz you know you white folks get ta'lookin' alike after while."
"Yeah! I sit over by the teacher in the front!." The boy returned, seemingly oblivious of the insult Riley had just tossed him.
"I just hadn't had the nerve to come up and introduce myself." Cory looked thoughtful for a second before his posed his next question. "Do you wanna play kickball at recess this afternoon?"
Kickball at recess? Riley was never the type to play anything with others. But whatever. He would be nice this time and agree.
"All right! It'll be fun!" The boy exclaimed as he finally took out his lunch—a southwestern style panini with baked Lay's potato chips and white-cranberry juice. What the fuck?
By the end of recess, Riley found it amazing that he didn't beat the crap out of one of those white kids just for being stupid. That lame-ass kickball game was a total joke, but the others had seemed to have fun. Riley just shrugged it off and resolved to never play in a group with that ball again unless it was dodge ball. When school was just about out, Cory had come up to him to say how much fun he had and that he'd see him tomorrow.
Riley had rolled his eyes thinking he'd have to cut this kid off if he didn't quit acting like such a fuckin' groupie.
When school was over, Riley opted not to go straight home. He stayed in the yard and watched the other kids run about to buses and rides. About five minutes had gone by when Riley had caught sight of him; Butch Magnus Milosevic, the fat fuck that had jacked his chain a while back. That dude had beat the shit outta him last time, and now that Riley was reconditioned, a rematch didn't at all seem out of the question. This would be an excellent outlet for his frustrations—and as an added bonus, would receive the adoration of most of the student body for taking out the neighborhood bully.
A vengeful smile spread across his face as Riley moved to go pick his fight. Quickly devising his strategy of how to best fell the Caucasian behemoth, he was stopped short by a familiar voice calling his name. He turned to see that it was Jazmine.
"Hey Riley, have you seen Huey anywhere?" The girl asked. She seemed to be worried about something.
Riley faced back to Butch who was busy casting an ominous shadow over by the playground—oblivious. Riley sucked in his lips and held them there as he debated over speaking with Jazmine or getting his payback. There were plenty of people around. Which was good; he wanted Milosevic's humiliation to be public.
"I just needed to speak with him for a second." Riley heard the girl say.
Damn. "Naw I ain't seen'em." Riley replied turning back quickly. His aggravation must have been apparent because she shied away a bit.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry Riley. I guess I'll just see you later then."
Well that wasn't every nice. Riley immediately began to feel guilty for snapping at Jazmine. It wasn't her fault he had blood on the brain.
"Naw, it's cool. What's wrong witchu anyway?" He offered. Butch would have to wait he guessed.
Jazmine began to redden as she looked to her feet. "Well, I was hoping Huey could help me with a bit of a problem I've been having."
Having not ever really been one to concern himself with other people's problems unless it came with a benefit, Riley could have easily ended the conversation there with little more than a shrug. However, he found himself curious about the mulatto girl's issue.
"Well, what is it?"
"Uh, umm, well…" She began slowly. "I was wondering if Huey could give me some advice, so…"
"So what? Huey ain't the only one who know shit. Why don't'chu ask me?"
Jazmine stared at the younger Freeman boy for a second considering the question. Well, Riley wasn't exactly Dr. Phil, but maybe he could give a different perspective on the matter.
"Actually, it's these girls. They keep teasing me because I'm mixed and I want to try and get them to stop. I could just tell on them, but I think they may come after me later if I tattle on them."
"Well dat's easy. Make them bitches pay!" Riley said matter-of-factly.
"Pay? Pay what?" Jazmine asked, blinking her large green eyes.
"Whutchu mean 'pay what'? Wit a foot up they ass, what else?"
"You mean, like…fight?"
"Hell yeah! How else you gunna get them hoes ta'stop talkin' shit? Jus stomp they asses one good time an' they won't have shit else to say."
Jazmine grimaced a bit. How else could she have expected Riley Freeman to respond?
"I don't think so Riley. I never made trouble before in my life, and plus, I don't think my parents would approve…"
"What??" Riley was incredulous. "Girl, who gives a damn what yo'parents approve? Day'ain't gunna fight yo'battles fa'you! You gotta handle yo'shit yo'own self…Unless you want dem hoes tearin' into yo'ass every time that nappy head walk by." He said smugly folding his arms.
"Well, no but--"
"But what? I'm tellin' you beat dem hoes and you'll be good."
"But--"
"Hoe is you listenin'?"
"Riley--"
"Ok fine. Don't say I ain't try ta'help cuz you ain't even tryin' ta' hear a damn thing I'm sayin'."
"Riley it'll be three against one!" Jazmine whined. "Even if I did try to fight, they'd just beat me up because I'd be by myself! Plus nice girls don't fight anyway. I'd be giving myself a bad reputation!"
Riley narrowed his eyes at his neighbor.
"Girl, come'ere." He said as he took hold of her right wrist and began walking.
"Hey wait, where are we going?!" Jazmine protested as Riley dragged her along.
It wasn't until the two were fairly secluded before he finally released her. Jazmine took a quick look around before facing him with her hands on her hips.
"Riley Freeman, just what do you think you're doing? I'm not going to kiss you if that's what you're up to." She fussed.
Riley recoiled with a sneer. "Shut the hell up Jazmine, I ain't gunna kiss you! I was gunna say that if you want, I could show you some things that'll make beatin' them bitches easy for you…that is, if you ain't too scared to find out."
Jazmine shrunk a little. "I don't know Riley. I don't think I should."
Riley sighed audibly. "Well, who are they at least?"
"Their names? Well, one's name is Rita Theronguard. She's pretty popular. Then she has her two friends Julie Copperhead and Samantha Childs."
Jazmine's face became drawn.
"They follow her everywhere and hang on her every word. Rita's actually pretty mean to a lot of people, and Julie and Samantha just kind of follow her. Either way I hate all of them. Oh, Riley, I just wish they'd leave me alone!" Riley could see the tears start to well in her eyes as she lamented. Oh boy. Riley never did too well with weepy females.
"Ok look. Go home and change into something yo'folks won't cry about you gettin' dirty in. Meet me at my house in an hour, ok?"
Jazmine sniffled a bit then smiled. "Ok!" She beamed before hooking her thumbs in the straps of her pink book bag and bounding away. Once she was out of sight Riley walked back out in the open. He glanced around for Butch but didn't see him. That was alright though. He'd get his in the end.
Riley pulled his sagging pants farther up on his narrow hips—a pointless gesture as that they nearly fell right back. Yeah he'd help Jazmine. They way he saw it—it'd be funny as hell to see prissy little Jazmine Dubois beat down a bunch of bitchy white girls.
A/N: Talk about an elbow, huh? Will Jazmine be in on the coming action? Hell if I know. And I'm sure every one wants to know when Huey's involvement in all of this will increase. Don't worry; I'll make sure he gets his time. And btw, yall's reviews actually have some bearing on this fic! Your comments are food for my muse and I do appreciate them. Don't blink or you'll miss my next update!