A/N: Not too much to add, more blah, blah, blah, if you will. Within the next two chapters or so, I can say that things will start picking up again. The Boondocks aren't mine…language. It's been awhile, had to throw that in there.
The sun was sinking in an uneventful orange blaze behind the tree line when Riley returned to his and Huey's shared bedroom. When he had returned from the Dubois', the exchange between he and his grandfather had been brief in regards to Riley's time over there. After this, Granddad moved to some other area of the house while Riley took up residence on the living room sofa to play a video game; he needed time to think about exactly what he would tell his brother. As the hours passed however, Riley realized that there could be no truly scripted way of informing his brother of the events leading up to the violence that unfurled itself in the science wing of J. Edgar Hoover Elementary, excluding of course the business between he and Jazmine. Reaching that conclusion, and with no small amount reservation, made his way up to the room.
Riley squinted just a bit as the last fiery gleams of the setting sun found his chocolate irises as he moved through the threshold of the bedroom. Moving passed the hood of light, Riley looked across the room to find his brother had indeed awoken and was reading the book he had been keeping while he stayed in the bed.
"How's yo' back?" Riley asked with a tense looseness.
"…Mostly numb, but with a dull throb drumming through. It's annoying now, but it'll hurt worse as the pain-killers ware off." Huey replied distantly as he stared into the tawny pages of his library-bound hardback.
Riley looked at his brother a few moments more, waiting to see if he would lift his eyes from the text. Huey was always like this when he was angry—he would read. Now, this wasn't to say that he only read when he was angry, which one could argue was all the time. This was a different kind of angry—the kind of angry that only the words of an informative volume could effectively bleed away. Technically, with this being said, now was not the most opportune time to start speaking with Huey—about anything. But should he wait? He could, but what could possibly be gained by delaying the time Riley would use to explain to his brother what was painted up to be his side of the story. His side of the fabrication, as it were—grounded in truth…as if that somehow made it better.
Unfortunately for Riley, he was proved time and again by his ever weary brother that he was in fact a horrible liar. With this thought in mind, it only added to Riley's reservation to go into any real detail about key events. The most important thing in all of this was the mission of keeping his training under Thugnificent silent. This was the part that troubled Riley most…it was one thing to withhold information, while it was another thing to start weaving webs...Riley would just have to make it up as he went along and hope that Huey's diminished condition would lend to him the advantaged he needed to continue pulling the wool over Huey's eyes. It was time to begin.
"Huey, what happened to you in the hallway at school?"
The question drew Huey's eyes to Riley. His cheeks at this point could be seen drawing in slightly as if he was thoroughly chafed by the inquiry. Riley watched as his brother slowly lowered the book to his sheet covered lap and folded it closed. Looking at the burgundy colored binding for a moment, he contemplated, as he always did, before he said something exceedingly meaningful.
"Why was Jazmine fighting?"
Whatever mental preparation Riley had been undergoing up to that moment had quickly washed way like so much dirt off vinyl siding. He could feel his sinuses clearing as Huey sliced through in one fell swoop all of the bullshit with the razor-sharp blade of his intellect. Riley was practically cornered.
"Hey, you-you cain't answer ah'question widda question!"
Huey then turned his whole head to face Riley, a dangerous look in his eye that chilled Riley in the way few other people ever could.
"I can and I did." Came Huey's low and dark reply. "I had to defend Jazmine from that lard-ass or else she was gunna have her face caved in. I saw what happened to you Riley. He chucked your ass over that crowed like a damn paper ball, and Jazmine just stood there. What's more Riley, I saw what she did to that girl you were holding—you and she were in on whatever was happening, I know you were. Jazmine doesn't fight—and even if she did, she doesn't fight like that. That was your street shit Riley, and I swear to whatever god out there that if my back wasn't fucked I'd beat every truth out of your ignorant, self-perpetuating ass."
Riley was mortified. His jaw began to slack ever-so-slightly at the level of venom that soaked every syllable; ignorant, self-perpetuating. He'd be insulted if he hadn't been locked in place by the graveness of his brother's words.
"For your information," Huey continued, "I was protecting some other kid that giant fucker picked up and threw at me like a goddamn softball. He punched me in my head, tore up my back and then stood on it. That, Riley, is what happened to me in the hall. But that's not what's important. Tell me what's happening with Jazmine."
Riley felt microscopic under the weight of Huey's question. While Riley's brow was furrowed, it was in such a way that he could have returned with either an angry retort, or burst into tears, or both. However, he was still so stunned, he barely had voice enough to give a response—Huey had torn him down quickly…just like him to when he knew Riley was guilty. He swallowed dryly as his subdued voice struggled over the falling dust particles that glinted briefly in the remaining reddish-orange wash that was the setting sun.
"S-she's gunna stay wit her gran'ma for a bit in Philly."
"She's been suspended hasn't she?"
"…Yeah."
There were several tense moments that passed before more was said. Riley watched as Huey slowly, and painfully by way of his face, readjusted down in his bed against the pillows he had propped himself up on. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, his eyes on the darkened computer out passed the foot of his bed. His next words came as equally controlled as the ones he spoke before he readjusted, but they were calmer now, but calm in a way that only the very aged and weary would speak…as if Huey at that moment was in fact older than the very grandfather whose custody they were in.
"There was a reason why Jazmine was fighting…you know what it was, I know you do. Tell me the truth, what the hell is going on Riley?"
Riley could feel the blood pounding in his temples. There was something in the way Huey asked the question that said to Riley that he was looking for the deeper truth…the one that had nothing to do with Jazmine at all. Riley was weak then, but not foolish. He would tell Huey the truth of the matter with Jazmine, but that was all—Riley's skeletons were his to keep, and Huey would just have to accept that.
He walked around to the side of his bed closest to Huey at sat on it. Looking down at his jean covered lap, Riley began to speak.
"She was gunna come to you anyway dawg."
Huey raised a brow. "Bout what?"
"About that girl you saw. Her name's Rita Theronguard. She'n dees other two hoes was fuckin' wit Jaz an' she was gunna talk to you bout how ta'deal. She was lookin' fo'you an' asked me if I seent'chu an' I was like, 'naw'."
While Riley was saying these words, he was carefully devising what next to say that would put blame on himself, but cover up what he had been doing with Thugnificent. From what Huey was saying, he hadn't seen anything that would give any inclination that Jazmine fought better than what she could have learned under Riley's previously undeveloped street brawling style. Let him think that—it would throw him off enough to keep him from delving further. Riley continued.
"She tol' me what was up an' I was like, 'you should stomp dem bitches', an' at first she was like 'naw', but din she was like 'yeah', so I showed her how'ta thow a few punches an' shit jus went from daer."
Huey looked at him. "So you're saying that Jazmine was being personally attacked by a girl named Rita along with two others. She was gunna come to me for advice, but she ran into you while she was looking for me, and you told her that she should fight and you showed her how to throw punches? Riley are you crazy? Jazmine isn't even that kind of person! When you showed her that stuff, she took it to heart! I can't believe you!" Huey sigh gruffly and tiredly. "Basically what I'm getting from all of this is that you helped to perpetuate an already volatile situation that ended up in not only the hospitalization of myself, but several other people in the school! Riley you oughtta be ashamed of yourself!"
So he bought it. And he still seemed to believe that Jazmine was still the same gullible sap that he had always been taking her for. Little did he know just exactly how much she had changed in that short amount of time—there was indeed a hole in Huey's wisdom…he made assumptions, something he swore he never did. How blisteringly ironic.
"More than that," Huey went on, "I don't know what they're gunna do with me because I got caught up in that. I know you were trying to help Riley, but damn…sometimes you cause more problems than anything else…"
Fine, let him think that too, just as long as he didn't think Riley was being anything more, or less, irresponsible than he usually was…which hurt him a lot. That being said, he hurt for Jazmine too. Too often the both of them were written off by someone or another because of their so-called naivety and ignorance. There was no doubt in Riley's mind the love he had for his brother, but at that moment, he couldn't help but feel exceptionally close to Jazmine…frankly there was no one he could identify more with on the matter.
"Huey, I'm really sorry bout all this man…I'm sorry you got messed up, but I promise that shit go'wn go right…I don't know if I should say this, but that fight was somethin' that needed to happen. And I want you to know that Jazmine did what was right fo'her. Give'er a little credit man, and give me some too."
With that, Riley stood and made his way downstairs and out the front door, at that point, he wasn't too terribly interested in any response that Huey might have offered right then. As he walked off the stoop, he spotted his basketball in one of the bushes closest to the house. Picking it up absently, he began to dribble the ball a bit, trying to block out most of what had just transpired, although it would be a long time coming before he could shake loose those first threatening words that came from Huey. He could see where he was coming from but still…he could have saved that. Riley hated being put on trial, even though half the time he actually deserved it.
Looking up at the basket, which was now being illuminated more by the street lamps than the failing daylight, he began preparing for the first of what Riley figured would be several brick shots before something caught his eye. Turning around to face out over the street, he saw a very familiar figure standing beside it's mailbox.
"HEY! Whassup ma'lil' nigga! Getcho ass over here an' come holla atcha boy!"
It was Thugnificent. As soon as he had called out to him, Riley felt that now too familiar cold creep into his skin. Stepping down the driveway, Riley checked the street before crossing and trotted up to tall rapper in his ever present long white tee and nappy afro-puffs. He smelled of weed and his eyes were a bit red, as if he had already come off his high, but had just finished satisfying the 'munchies' clause. He must have been out getting some fresh air.
"Yo, Riley!" he began with guffaw, "I heard that some shit went down at'cho school! I heard there was po-leeces, amba-lances, fire trucks an' errathang! What the hell lil' nig?"
Riley nearly winced. "Oh, I guess you heard bout dat huh?"
"Nigga who ain't? They got that shit on blast every damn where! I hear dat Butch kid got fucked up. Riley man, please tell me dat was you!" Thugnificent asked with the same glee that was not uncommon in children who actually got what they wanted for Christmas.
"Well, I know my brother tangled wit him for a tic, but it was me who ended up crackin' a foldin' chair across his mile-high fo'head." Riley replied with forced enthusiasm…Thugnificent didn't seem to catch it.
"Dats my lil' nigga!!" He hooted loudly. After Thugnificent's laughter subsided, he looked down to Riley and placed a sprawling hand across the span of the boy's cornrows. "A'ight, dats a bet. When you think you go'wn be free? I need you back at da'house, I gots some shit to go over witcha, ya'heard?"
Riley looked at the older man almost quizzically. "Uh, I don't really know, I's kinda suspended right now…"
"Well then don't you think dat now's one of the best times?" Thugnificent inquired with growing seriousness.
"I don't know Nificent. Granddad's gunna have me on lock for a while until shit get back right."
A sly smile crept on Thugnificent's face that Riley couldn't help but feel uneasy about.
"That ol' nigga ain't awake 24/7. Meet me tonight at my house 1 a.m. You got that?"
Immediately Riley's face twisted into an obvious plea.
"Nificent please, not tonight…I ain't ready jus yet. I-I'll come thew, jus…please…cain't it wait till tomorrow?"
Thugnificent's features became disturbingly darker as he loomed overhead…in plain view of the entire neighborhood. All's one had to do was walk, or even drive by in that dusk and they would immediately know something was wrong.
"A'ight, fine. You take yo evenin'. But word to the wise, you ain't got no'moe times to bitch out on me like dis, you dig lil' homie?"
Riley nodded silently if not a little fearfully, then headed back across the street, basketball tucked firmly under his arm. Yeah, it was a cop-out alright…but why now though? Honestly, Riley was glad that he hadn't had to deal with Thugnificent on the level they had just exchanged on. He was having his own problems now, his own little pre-adolescent drama—being gangsta on the fo'real wasn't something that Riley was necessarily ready to jump back into…but he would. Thugnificent obviously wanted something big if Riley was to steal out of the house at such a late hour. Either way, he had a whole other day and a half to worry about it. Too much time, in Riley's opinion.
Back inside his house—Riley didn't linger outdoors—he went to the fridge to get an orange soda. Taking it into the living room, he set it down on the coffee table. Riley slumped to the couch and proceeded to recede into its cushions, somewhat depressed by the new developments. Didn't he just finish misleading his injured brother who was apparently loosing what little faith he had in him? It was bad enough he had to play off his going out during the day to the rapper's estate, but leaving the house late at night was taking it to a level that Riley wasn't all too comfortable with. Oh well, he'd just have to get over it, athough there was a little voice in the back of his mind that was saying that all of it just sounded too strange. Riley was no fool, he'd listen to that voice—but not now, and he supposed then that he was indeed a fool for it.
A/N: Oh boy, here we go again! What could Thugnificent possibly want with Riley now? 1 a.m. house calls? I don't know…sounds like some Michael Jackson shit to me. (No really, much love to Michael, but I couldn't resist!)