CHAPTER 2

SO YOU TAKE A PICTURE OF SOMETHING YOU SEE

I hadn't planned to take Eve up on that offer. In fact, by the end of fourth period I'd forgotten all about it; buried under a mountain of notes and problems. But after getting home that evening I wound up in a huge three-way shouting match. I walked in to find Mom watching the TV, still lying on the couch in her bathrobe and looking like she'd barely moved since the morning. I lost it and started yelling at her, then at Diane for letting her stay there all day, then they both started yelling at me. It ended when I hurled my backpack across the room (hitting nothing but the floor, thankfully) and stormed out the front door.

I spent an hour wandering the streets, more or less at random, trying to cool down. Whether through chance or some kind of homing instinct, I wound up halfway across town, in the familiar cul-de-sac, outside of our old house. It seemed pretty much as it had always been, aside from the Realtor's sign out front. But when I looked in the big bay window, the living room was empty. Barren. Bookshelves, furniture, entertainment center, ugly brown things on the walls, all of them gone. All of them sold to help pay the debts, or just thrown out. I walked over to the sign and thumped it petulantly. These signs were becoming more and more common.

In old movies from the 80's, the streets were alive this time of evening. Kids were running around, riding bikes, playing hockey in the street. Moms were outside working on their gardens, chatting with the neighbors. Dads were just getting home from the office. I never knew that world. For as long as I remembered, I'd spent my free time inside, in front of game consoles and cartoons. All the kids in the neighborhood did. If we played together, it was in someone else's living room or basement or backyard. And parents were cool with that. They'd gripe about us not getting exercise, sure, but they knew if we stayed inside we couldn't get snatched by pedos, or get our arms broken playing too rough, or do some stupid shit that would get them sued by the neighbors. The hustle and bustle of the evening moved indoors. The sidewalks became the no mans land between fiefdoms marked off by white picket fences and dominated by three bedroom castles.

And now these Realtor's signs, outside the houses that once upon a time were bought by couples with newborns as a sign that they had "made it". The lucky ones had seen the kids graduate and moved to Florida. Others had lost their jobs, or gotten divorced, or maxed their credit cards, or whatever mistakes or misfortunes. A few just decided it wasn't worth it. In time the houses would be bought, but not by couples with newborns. They'd be bought by flippers, who would sell them to other flippers, who would chop them up into two to four rental units apiece and rent them out to whoever could afford them. Then, when they couldn't make a profit, they'd sell them to someone else. Someone convinced he could succeed where the last landlord had failed. And so on until the house burns down or falls down due to neglect. And then a chain link fence goes up around the lot, with yet another Realtor's sign hanging on the outside. Maybe forever.

I walked away. There was nothing here for me. Bury the past.

By now the sun was getting low and I figured I should be getting home. So I got a map on my phone and saw that the route would take me past the park. That's when I remembered what Eve had said, about hanging out near the fountain when she needed some peace. Did I have time to swing by before sunset? Fuck it, I thought. I was still mad enough at Mom and Diane to make them put my dinner in the freezer.

The park had a name- named after some politician from way back when- but everyone just called it "the park". It sat in front of what had once been the town hall, but was now a catering hall popular for weddings. It was the length of several blocks. Occasionally events like picnics or festivals were held here, but mostly it was used by joggers and dog-walkers. Half of it was flat landscaped grass, the other half was stands of trees. Paved walking paths, lit by lampposts in the nighttime, wove hither and yon throughout the whole thing. The paths converged on a large fountain surrounded by a brick plaza with benches and trashcans along the perimeter. The steady crashing of water from the fountain was soothing- when it wasn't being overpowered by some idiot pumping his bass at maximum volume, at least.

When I ran into Eve she was dancing to her music, while Tyrone's radio blasted hip-hop from the other side of the fountain. I waited to approach until Eve was done dancing and sat back down. I was five feet away before she saw my shadow and looked up. On seeing me, she pulled her headphones down and hung them around her neck. She tapped the phone sitting next to her and the music cut off.

"Hey there, Aaron," she said.

"Hey. How's it going?" The bass thumping from the other side of the fountain was oppressive- at least until you got used to it- but not very loud. You felt it more than you heard it. So it was no problem for us to talk normally.

"Not too bad," Eve replied. "You?"

"Eh… drama at home."

A look of concern crossed her face. "Serious drama?"

"Nah, nothing too bad. Got into a big yelling match because..." I trailed off. Now that I thought about it, 'because my Mom is struggling with depression and my Aunt can't do anything about it' probably made me the asshole in the situation. "Ah, it's just stupid shit," I finished. "Never mind me, what're you up to?"

Eve shrugged. "Hanging out. Listening to music. Drawing."

"Drawing what?"

"Just doodles."

"Can I see?"

"Umm...", she brushed a stray lock of hair away and bit her lip. I realized late that I'd never seen her show her sketch pad to anybody in school. It might be private. I was about to take back my request when she said, "well… okay, if you want to."

She made room on the pavement next to her and I sat down. On her sketch pad was a colored pencil drawing of a superhero- a red-haired, blue-eyed woman in a traditional fist-out flying pose. She was dressed in a skirt and bare midriff costume reminiscent of supergirl, but with a white and purple color scheme. It was surprisingly well-done; maybe not professional-grade, but certainly not the kind of thing you'd describe as a "doodle".

"That's nice," I said, speaking my mind.

"You think so?", she asked, in the tone of an artist faking cool while being praised.

"Yeah. Yeah it is. The lavender here really complements the hair. Is this an original character?"

"Kinda. It's my sister, Grace. Well, it's based on her. I didn't feel like trying to draw in all her tattoos."

"Tattoos?"

"Yeah, she's got, like, a wing here on her shoulder, a rose on the other shoulder, a heart with an arrow over her heart, a thorny vine circling her thigh- she's a tattoo artist herself, so she's her own personal billboard."

"Sounds like a pretty cool woman."

"She used to be. But then, well..." she trailed off.

"What?"

Eve waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing, it's depressing."

It was probably to do with their parents' dying. Deciding not to press her, I turned the page. The next sketch was a ninja girl in a revealing outfit, drawn in an anime style, with blue hair tied in a high ponytail, thick lips that might be blowing a kiss, and what the internet calls "big anime tiddies". She faced the viewer with a katana at her side, and a hand positioned to draw it and strike at any minute.

"That's good too," I said. "Really nice…", 'boobs', I wanted to say. "sense of… female power in it. I like that pose, too. Lot of energy. Tension. Like she's about to jump out of the page and cut you in half."

She nodded swiftly, with a big smile. "Yeah, I'm really proud of that one. I just wish Miss Ross liked it as much as you."

"She doesn't?" I asked. Miss Ross- the school's art teacher- preferred realism to cartoon or anime work, but she was generally a fair critic, assessing assignments by what went into them rather than if it appealed to her personally.

Eve groaned. "She's impossible! I've been working on an assignment for a month, I've turned in a dozen things, but she keeps kicking them back to me!"

I arched an eyebrow. "Can she do that? Keep an assignment grade up in the air for god knows how long, I mean?"

"It's extra credit."

I blinked. "Uh… then why not just..."

"Because after she rejected my first attempt, it became a matter of pride not to give up!" she shouted. "I mean, I'm good at drawing, it should be easy, but... her standards are… shit, I don't even know what she's looking for."

"Huh," I said, calmly. "Well, I took her class last year and didn't have any trouble with her. Then again, I have heard people say she plays favorites- maybe I was just one of them. Maybe she fell for my rugged good looks." I slicked my hair back and threw my gaze off into the distance with a snooty face.

Eve laughed. "Don't flatter yourself, Aaron."

I turned the page again, revealing a page of sketches- studies of flowers and trees, mostly.

"But hey," Eve said, "I think I saw one of your drawings hanging up in the classroom. Charcoal drawing, a bunch of crosses, and in front of them the shadow of a man with a purple flame in his hand."

I half-smiled. "It was supposed to be a crystal, but yeah, that was my work. Miss Ross was real big on it. Said it had a lot of emotion. Which was the same thing she told me pretty much all the time."

"Was that a polite way of saying your technique sucked?" Eve asked wryly.

"Well, I wasn't as good as you, but I don't think I was too bad. If I still had those drawings, I'd let you judge for yourself, but I threw them out."

Eve reacted like I had just confessed to being a child killer. "You what?!"

"Threw them out."

"Why?", she asked, disbelieving.

It took me a moment to gather up what I wanted to say. "Well… the reason Miss Ross said they had so much emotion is… my Dad was sick at the time. I kept a brave face, didn't let anybody know because I didn't want the pity. Maybe I succeeded too well there. My friends- none of them ever guessed what I was going through, but they must have noticed I was down all the time. Always bringing down the mood. And, one by one, they decided I was just too much of a downer to hang out with…," I paused, realizing I was digressing from the subject. "Anyway, it all came out in my art, and that's what Miss Ross picked up on. But after Dad died, I just wanted to get on with my life. Leave it behind. Bury the past. So when we lost the house and had to move in with Aunt Diane, I went through those drawings and just… trashed them all. I didn't want them around, reminding me of the last year."

I fell silent, staring off into the distance. I felt Eve's hand, small and delicate, take hold of my own and squeeze it. "I'm sorry, Aaron."

I was about to say something else, something about how powerless it had made me feel to watch him waste away slowly, but before I could get two words out an empty bottle of iced tea struck the ground in front of me hard enough to crack. We both started out of the melancholy. Eve jumped to her feet and spun around. "Hey, what the fuck, Tyrone?! I'm sitting here!"

"Oh, shit!" Tyrone said. "Sorry, Blue!"

"My fault," Chico cut in. "Sorry, Blue, I didn't see you there!"

Tyrone looked around the fountain and saw me sitting next to where Eve was standing. "Well, well, looks like we got some fresh meat around the fountain."

Chad followed Tyrone's gaze and saw me. "Who's the boyfriend, Blue?"

Eve blushed furiously. "He's not… we're just hanging out!"

"Hey, hey," said Chad with a smile. "It's all good, baby, I ain't the jealous type. I know your heart belongs to Big Chad." He grabbed his crotch as he said it and I could practically see Eve's stomach turn. "That's… shut up! You're disgusting!" she said.

Tyrone was laughing. "Relax, girl, Chad's just playin'."

"It's not funny!"

More laughter. Chad spoke up again. "Don't get your panties all twisted. We know who you'll be coming 'round to when you need a real man to hold you tight." He did a smooth little dance step. Eve gave him a sneer worthy of Sid Vicious and an upraised middle finger to go with it. Still chuckling, Tyrone and his crew ducked out of sight. Eve sat down on the rim of the fountain, seething. I was suddenly conscious once again of the persistent thumping of the bass from Tyrone's stereo.

"I thought this place was supposed to be peaceful", I remarked.

"It was up until about two weeks ago. I could sit here, listening to the nightingales and the sound of the water, and just relax and draw. But then those assholes started coming by every damn evening with their damn stereo and their clowning around and their throwing shit through the fountain to see if they can get the water to bounce it in the air..." she trailed off, still fuming.

"Why don't you just find someplace else to hang, then?"

"Because I was here first, dammit! Why should I be the one to leave?" She made an exasperated sigh and slumped forward. "Don't listen to the shit they say about me and them, because… there's nothing, okay?"

I snickered and checked to see if they could see us. "Oh, I'm not so sure there's nothing. I can see them at home, in bed, thinking of you, and going like ohhhhhh..." I mimed masturbation while making the goofiest, ugliest o-faces I could. Eve doubled over laughing.

"No, no…," Eve said. "It would be more like auuuuugh...". She made an even stupider-looking face, and we both laughed.

"Well," I said, "at least they got us laughing."

"Oh, yeah, it was getting so emo over here! You were about five seconds away from cutting yourself and writing bad poetry.

I laughed, "Yeah, with my blood." We both laughed. Then I got up from the ground to sit next to her on the rim of the fountain. I handed her sketchbook back. "Show me some more. What are you most proud of?"

She snickered. "I have to pick just one?"

I shrugged. "Pick one. Pick a few. Pick 'em all if you want. We got all night."

Eve smiled.

We spent a long time going through her sketchbook. Eve would talk about why she did this or how she was trying to make that work, and I would tell her what I thought. She really did have talent. Some of her work was still lifes, mostly of trees and flowers and such that she'd seen around. Others were abstract or iconographic. Some she identified as replicas of her sister's art. But her specialty was figure drawing, usually in a cartoon or anime style, and it was here that she shone most brightly. Vibrant and colorful, her work had a true sense of life and energy to it. Heroes, villains, everyday people, portraits, monsters, and at least one vampire. They all practically leaped off the page.

Before long I looked up and saw the streetlights had come on. Worried, I checked my phone. "Shit, it's that late?" I stood up. "I'm sorry, I should get home."

"What time is it?" Eve asked.

"Seven."

"Crap, I'd better get home too." She closed her sketchbook and started stuffing it into her backpack. "Grace is going to kill me. But, uhh… thanks for coming around. It was… nice to just... hang out with someone I can tolerate."

"Yeah, I had fun, too. Thanks for showing me your art, it's really cool."

"Thanks."

I stood there and smiled at her. She sat there and smiled back. Neither of us made any move to leave. Say something, you idiot, I thought to myself. "So, hey," I began, "if you wanna… you know..."

I was interrupted when an empty can of energy drink flew in from nowhere and bonked me on the head. "Ouch!" I exclaimed.

Eve sprung to her feet and whirled around to see that Tyrone and his gang had come around to our side of the fountain. They laughed at my misfortune. "Sorry, homes," Tyrone said, "hope that didn't sting too much."

"Yeah, sorry," said Chad. "I was actually aiming for Little Blue Riding Hood there. Hoped she might let me kiss the boo boo." He made kissing gestures at Eve, who winced in revulsion. Tyrone gave Chad a disapproving look, but he didn't seem to notice.

Tyrone and his crew were seniors at school, same as Eve and I. I'd seen them in the halls, though I'd never talked to them. They always moved as a trio. Even if they took different classes, somehow they were always together between periods, like a single, cohesive organism.

Chico was Hispanic, and liked to think he was suave. He was tall but thin, with a pierced ear, a pierced eyebrow, a scraggly, patchy excuse for a mustache and soul patch, and a swaggering walk. He wore preppy-style polo shirts with the humblebrag alligator positioned so that it was just noticeable, and a cap on backwards to signify both style and nonconformity.

Chad was a white guy who was on track for a private university in the fall and was getting a head start on being a douchebag fratboy. He had a collection of nearly-identical tank-top shirts, all chosen specifically to show off the tribal tattoo on his shoulder. He bleached and gelled his hair and tied a bandanna around it in a style that he probably hoped looked vaguely but not geekily super saiyan. Right now he held a joint in his fingers- probably borrowed from Tyrone.

Tyrone himself was a tall, broad-shouldered black kid with a light beard and mustache somewhat better than Chico's. He may or may not have been Jamaican, but either way he leaned into it with dreadlocks and a black/yellow/green shirt with the silhouette of a cannabis leaf on it. He also had an ostentatious necklace in the shape of a sequined microphone which advertised his hopes and dreams to the world at large. When the cops weren't around, he often had a joint hanging from either his lips or his ear.

Between them, these three were a cross-section of the suburban hip-hop fandom. They liked strutting their stuff and acting tough and were some of the biggest fakes in school. Nobody would have cared except that their idea of street cred was being dicks to everybody.

"The fuck are you doing here, Tyrone?", Eve said, stepping over to get in his face.

"Relax, relax," Tyrone said, sidestepping around Eve. "we just came over to pick up our trash." He walked over and grabbed the bottle from earlier. He held out his hand to me, and I picked up the can from my feet and lobbed it over to him. He sauntered over to a trashcan nearby to drop them off.

"But you know," Tyrone continued, "if you're bored with white boy here, you could always come around and hang with us."

"Yeah, Blue," Chad added. "We know how to treat you right." He took a short drag from his joint and blew the smoke in Eve's face. He held the joint out to Eve. "Taste good? Want a hit?"

Eve glared, waving the smoke away. "I took a hit from you once, and all I got from it was a pile of dumb pick-up lines. Get lost."

Chad smirked, putting the joint back in his mouth and ambling over to the fountain where Eve had left her things. "Oh, you'll come around. You just wait." He waved the lit joint under Eve's nose. One of these days you'll get the urgin'…" He grabbed his crotch and laughed a dry, cackling laugh.

Tyrone, who'd gotten back from his trash run, grabbed the joint out of Chad's hand "Hey man, you're pretty generous with someone else'sshit."

Chad scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Man, whatever."

Meanwhile, Chico has wandered over to the fountain. "Hey, Blue, what you got here?" He leaned down and took Eve's sketchbook out of her backpack.

Eve's eye's went wide. "Don't touch that!"

"Relax, girl. Just want to see if you've drawn me."

"Give it back!" She lunged for him, but Chad got in her way. She tried to get around him, but he blocked her. Chico ignored the fuss and flipped the book open to a random page. His eyes went wide. "WOOOOO-EEE! Will you take a look at that!" He flipped the book around to reveal the blue-haired ninja girl. "Check out the hooters on her!"

"Sheeee-it!", Chad said, looking over his shoulder. "That is some nice titties."

"Give it back!", Eve yelled. She shoved Chad, but he didn't move.

"Easy girl," Chico continued. "I'm just admiring your work. Looks like some anime shit. I thought only Asians did that. You Asian, girl?"

"Give it back!" Eve was red in the face.

"What you think, Chad?" Chico asked. "She look a little Asian to you?"

"Well, I dunno," Chad said with a dumbass grin. "I thought Asian girls were supposed to be all submissive and shit. Though it might explain why she's got flat tits and a flatter ass." All three burst out laughing at this. Eve stepped back, distress written all over her face as she heard it. She looked like she was either going to burst into tears or start swinging wildly, no idea which.

"Hey!" I cut in forcefully, "I think you'd better give her stuff back, like she asks."

"Ah, relax white boy," Tyrone said with a smile. "We just playing around. Chico, give it back."

Chico obediently held the sketchpad out to Eve, who snatched it out of his hands, perhaps thinking he might pull it back to taunt her further. She held it to her chest like it was a child and glared bullets at all three.

"Aw, girl, that look wounds me. Right here," Chico said, putting a hand over his heart with a mocking sniffle.

"I think maybe you better make it up to him somehow," Chad said creepily.

"Man, since when do you think, white boy #2?", Tyrone said. He turned around and started to amble back the way he'd come. "Come on, my favorite jam's up next. When Blue wants a fun time, she knows where to come."

Tyrone's flunkies sauntered off after him. Chad called back to Eve over his shoulder. "Yeah, get yourself some meat on that skinny ass of yours, I'll have you too."

"We can run a train on you all night!" Chico added.

They laughed. Eve flipped them off as they retreated, but it wasn't nearly as awesome as the first time.

I shook my head. "God, what a bunch of assholes. You okay, Eve?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." she pulled up her hood, hiding her face in a manner that told me she was something less than fine. "Let's go, we should be getting home."

I looked around the fountain to where those wannabe thugs were hanging out. They were dancing and lip-syncing to the music without a care in the world. Seeing that next to Eve being on the verge of tears made something inside me boil.

"Not just yet," I said, striding purposefully off to circle the fountain.

"Aaron, don't…," Eve called after me.

I cut her off. "They shouldn't be talking to you like that."

Engrossed in the music, none of the three wannabes noticed me until I was standing almost beside Tyrone. "Hey!" I barked.

Now they did notice, and all eyes turned to me.

"Stealing a girl's art to make fun of her, Tyrone?" I said. "What is this, grade school?"

For a second Tyrone was confused. Then he laughed. "Look at white boy, tryin' to act all hard."

"Better than acting like a dickhead! This how you get girls? Let them take a hit off you once upon a time and then act like you owns them for life."

Tyrone flinched. "Man, you want to step off, white boy."

"Why should I? You're the assh..."

Tyrone raised his voice. "Because, on account of my family history, I don't take kindly to talk about owning people."

If I had taken a moment to think about what he meant, I might not have retorted, "Yeah, well on account of my family, I know how to treat women with respect!"

But of course, that's exactly what I said. Angry people aren't the best thinkers.

Tyrone stood up to his full height. He wasn't a giant, but he had at least two inches on me. He glared down at me with the hardest face I'd ever seen. Nobody was laughing. Or even smiling. "You don't talk to me about respect, white boy. What does any of this have to do with you?"

Suddenly, I wasn't Aaron anymore. I was an angry, skinny kid facing down a tall, broad-shouldered, grim-faced black man who was under no obligation to put up with my shit.

In hindsight, maybe this hadn't been such a bright idea. Tyrone shouldn't have been harassing Eve, but my getting his face with some ill-considered remarks was the figurative eye for an eye that could leave the whole world blind. Unfortunately, there were no take-backs. After having both of us stepped up ready to defend ourselves, we were now obliged to stand our ground. If we backed off, we would look unwilling or unable to defend ourselves, and let the world know we could be abused with impunity. So that wasn't going to happen. But if either of us started punching, it would go even worse. One of us would get beaten up, and the other would have to deal with the consequences, which could be anything from being called racist to getting arrested for assault to getting recorded and plastered all over YouTube by someone who happened to be passing by. So we had to stand here, wasting precious moments of our lives posing at each other, until the inevitable happened and we both got bruised. And in the meantime, we got to look like idiots having an X-treme Staring Contest.

Maybe that's American race relations in a nutshell. Why can't we all just get along? Because we're too busy trying to prove to each other that we are Not To Be Fucked With.

Despite the tension, I tried to keep a cool head when I spoke. "What this has to do with me is that I don't like seeing you give Eve a hard time. So stop it. There's no reason for it. All she wants is to sit by the fountain and draw. All you want is to sit over here with your weed and your music. There's plenty enough fountain for everyone, so why be a dick about it?"

Tyrone looked at me sideways- perhaps he had been expecting something more aggressive- then nodded slowly. "Alright, that's reasonable. One problem, though, and that's that I don't just take orders from any puffed-up white kid with an attitude. You want my respect, we're gonna battle."

Tyrone walked over to the stereo, where there was a bag lying on the ground. Chad and Chico broke into big smiles. "Yeah," Chad said, clapping his hands.

I looked from one of them to the other, hoping they couldn't see me sweat. "What, three on one? You that afraid of me?"

Tyrone snickered. "Oh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, white boy? Get a beating from us, run away crying, flag down some cop, tell him about the big scary black man who gave him those bruises, get me sent away for five to ten? I don't think so. What I mean is a rap battle!"

Tyrone dug through the bag and pulled out two microphones. He lobbed one over to me. "Rap battle?", I said.

"Three verses, three rounds," Tyrone said, tossing the second mike over to Chico. "Chico will go first. Once he's done, it's your turn. Then you gotta face Chad and me. Best of three wins. If it's you, we'll give Little Blue her space, like you want. If we win, this becomes our turf, and you respect our right to do what we want. That's it. So, you got the balls?"

I barely knew the first thing about hip-hop. I preferred rock music. But when I thought about it, a loss just meant things would continue as they already were. The same result as if I turned them down and walked away. Nothing to lose.

Well, nothing except my pride, and what was that worth?

"Yeah, alright, I'm down."

"Alright then," Tyrone said. "Let's get to it. Chico, show him what you got!"

"Yeah, man, I'm gonna smoke this little cracker like a pound of bacon!" Chico said while throwing signs that I suspected would be as likely to get him laughed at as shot in the wrong neighborhood.

Also, crackers aren't usually smoked, and also #2, I think he might have stolen that taunt from Vanilla Ice.

Tyrone cranked up a track with a heavy beat, and after a few "Uh! Uh!"s to prepare, Chico laid it down.

"Look at lil' white boy, actin' all tough,

Better step back 'cuz things about to get rough.

I spit like a dragon and I send crackers flying,

You'll be pissin', and runnin', or rollin' on the ground dyin'.

You ain't no rapper, you better get learned,

Step to this crew, man, you gonna get burned!"

He stepped back and threw his hands wide in a gesture of triumph. From the crew's reaction, his exuberance was premature.

"Gee, go a little easier on him, Chico," Chad said.

"Yeah, I think you just spent your whole turn talking about how you were going to burn him and never got around to it," Tyrone added.

Chico sneered at them. "Man, fuck you both. This little shit ain't worth my best."

"Mmm, I think that might have been your best, Chico," Tyrone said. "But hey, nothing wrong with a little warm-up before the main event. Let's see what white boy has to say 'bout that. You ready?"

I nodded, though I didn't feel it.

"Alright. Heeeeere we go."

He cued up a new track on the stereo. I nodded my head along and took perhaps to long to come up with my first line.

"Is that all you got? Cheap shots at my race?

Come down here, big man, you can suck on my… face."

Tyrone started laughing. I had to do better than that. I tried to think of something I could use and plucked out something I'd heard on MTV back when they still played music.

"You wack, you stupid, Yo' girl's a ho,"

Chad said "Whaaaat?" I couldn't tell if that was good or not. Chico cracked a smile.

Yo momma's piss ugly, and all she does is blow,"

I suddenly though of a twist to put on that.

"Out her ass! And stink just as… as bad as your rhymes."

Tyrone was nearly doubled over laughing. The others were cracking up too.

"I'm done with you, Chico. Time's up, out of time!"

As the track ground to a halt, the three wannabe-gangstas just kept laughing. Eventually, Tyrone settled down enough to actually speak. "Man, I don't even know where to begin! His momma farts? That's your big burn? And fuck's sake, boy, you do NOT steal a line from D-M-fucking-X and then make it look bad!" He came up and grabbed the mic out of my hand. "Man, we're not even going to go to round 2, I'm putting you out of your misery right here."

"That wasn't our deal!", I protested.

"Well, we're changing the deal, white boy. You don't like it, why don't we ask what your girl thinks. Oh Bluuuuue?"

I turned around and looked for Eve. She wasn't there. I walked halfway around the fountain, to where I could see where we'd been sitting. No sign of Eve. Her backpack was gone too.

"That's right," said Tyrone. "She bounced while her white knight was dyin' over here. You stank so bad, you drove her all the way home!" he cracked up again.

My heart sank in my chest. Eve was gone, and these assholes were still laughing at me. "Man, just go home," Tyrone said. "Your way out of your league around here. But if you see Blue, tell her she's welcome at our fountain any day of the week!"

"And leave her panties at home, they'll just get in the way!" Chad added.

They walked back to their spot, laughing, and leaving me standing there, feeling like an idiot. My fists clenched, my face burned, my teeth ground. Maybe my pride was a bit much to lose, after all. But there was nothing I could do about it. Inevitably, I walked home, feeling sorry for myself.