LITMIR.BIZ

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splotches.

      They called for round two, and we went right back at it. We fought toe-to-toe like that for a very long time. It became a battle of wills. I cracked first. The sizzling heat, the surging roars, the bursts of white in my vision—it was all too much. I got dizzy, stumbled, and then locked eyes with the wiry Assyrian kid. He looked worried. It could have been his brother. The dead Assyrian’s face swirled up and flashed in my mind—his blood-dampened hair, the frozen scream. I tried to say I was sorry, to tell him that I pray for his brother sometimes. I’m so sorry. Leroy smacked me with a hard punch to the forehead, and I crumpled to the pavement and curled up in a fetal ball.

      Suddenly, BB leered down at me.

      “One... Two... Three... Four...”

      Ryan dashed over and squatted down on his hams beside me.

      “Come on, Joe, get up... Please get up.”

      Ryan’s strained face floated over me before the cloudless, stark-blue sky that hovered above. The sun was silhouetted perfectly by his round head. My crucifix dangled down from his neck and swayed over my eyes. What if he don’t wanta be my friend no more. This cool calm spread over me. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and stood up. Then, I walked straight to Leroy and cracked him. He reeled backward, and I unloaded a barrage of shots that bounced his head around like a paddle ball. Finally, Leroy spun and belly flopped on the cement. His cheek clapped the concrete and kicked up a spray of white dust that caked the whole side of his face. The dust clung to his tears and sweat like flour sprinkled on wet dough.

      BB counted over Leroy. My fists felt like hot goo. I heard the low rumble of a Diesel engine, then tires crinkling atop the pebbled alleyway. The obese black kid stepped up behind me and pounded his heavy paw on my back. The others joined him, and their many hands jolted me as I stepped back, heaving. A car door unlatched, swung open, and slammed shut. I craned to see over the ring. There was a light-brown truck just down the alley. Suddenly, Leroy sprang up and drove his shoulder into my hip. We both tumbled to the pavement, sprawling, and I knew I’d roll him. He straddled me and tried to punch down, so I yanked his shirtsleeve downward, reached up, and clutched his mucky, tear-drenched jaw. Then, I twisted and toppled him. As we rolled, a large hand clamped down on my arm and yanked me clear up into the air. My big brother Rich’s glossy, steel-blue eyes flashed in mine. His teeth flared at the center of his bristly beard. The wild, brown curls of Rich’s shoulder-length mullet swayed fiercely as he ambled through the wall of kids. He knocked BB flat on his backside. I dangled from his grip with the tips of my sneakers scraping the pavement. He snatched his backward, red Marlboro baseball cap off his head. T-Money scampered alongside us with his brow furrowed.

      “What? You his brotha or something?” T-Money pleaded. “It was a fair fight. He was doin’ fine. He was finna win!”

      Rich stomped on. As we got to Dad’s old Diesel, he shoved T-Money in the chest. Then, he yanked the passenger side door open and threw me in by my arm. I landed on his girlfriend Nancy’s lap.

      “Richard, stop it now!” She hissed. Her long, straight brown hair spilt out of her headband.

      Rich slammed the door shut on us, then spun around on T-Money, who looked young and frail up next to him. Rich’s chest heaved beneath his sleeveless, black Iron Maiden shirt.

      “You wanta beat up on my brother, nigger?” Rich spat, then smashed two quick fists into T-Money’s face. T-Money tumbled backward and clutched his mug.

      BB threw a stone that pegged off the side Rich’s head. Rich stomped around the front end of the Diesel, jumped in, and we peeled off.

      “FUCKIN’ NIGGERS!” Rich screamed maniacally from his window.

      A wash of garbage and rocks clinked and banged against the windshield and side panel. Monteff whipped a half-empty RC can that clanked on the windshield and splattered a string of fizzy, brown suds across the glass. The Bronco careened out of the alley.

      “WHY THE FUCK YOU HANGING OUT OVER HERE!” Rich screamed, spittle spurting from his teeth.

      “They’re my friends!” I replied, writhing in Nancy’s arms. My head pulsed as lumps inflated along my forehead.

      They quarreled as we pulled in front of the house. I hopped out and ran upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed. My chest heaved as I sobbed. The dark-blue drapes were drawn closed, and they filtered the harsh light. A cool, turquoise haze filled the room. Stone-sized knots swelled on my forehead beneath my scalp—pulsing mounds that itched and burned like giant chicken pox. My hands and wrists felt large and hollow, and a thin film of blood dried on my knuckles.

      Light footsteps entered my room. I bawled uncontrollably, lying flat on my back. Jan’s pudgy hand appeared, palm up, and her deep-brown fingers spread. A sopping-wet dish rag peeked out from between the gaps in her fingers. Droplets of cool water dripped off her knuckles and spattered on my cheek and brow. She brought her hand close, and the ice cubes jostled in the folded rag. Then, she flopped it onto my forehead. I gasped. The shocking chill instantly soothed and deflated the burning knots.

      My whole body eased as Jan sat on the mattress beside my arm. Her soft, brown face. Her thick, frizzy hair pulled back and tied with a rubber band. The silky, black curls splayed out over her shoulders as she gazed peace-fully out the window at the head of my bed. The slow breeze parted the drapes, sending vertical slivers of light across her chocolaty skin. A thought slithered though my mind: is she a nigger, too? Strings of agony coursed down my throat and planted in my heart. She stayed beside me, silently strumming her fingers gently through my hair. My love for her, my sister, like a giant, deep lake with bright yellow sunlight streaking its peaking surface. I went to say it—to say it all—but it got caught in my throat as the exhaustion billowed up and encompassed me in a heavy, warm fog, and I sank into sleep.

      •

      I LOVED THEM the way boys love older sisters, and they adored and tortured me equally. When I’d started grammar school, I hated it. I’d fight and refuse to go each morning while Ma was out picking up the babysitting kids. At first, they’d scream at me to get ready, I’d scream back, and we’d get nowhere. Later, they’d bargain and offer to carry me piggyback. More often than not, they’d carry me to school. Grandma saw us a few times as we crossed through her gangway, and she told everyone I was their prince. In a way, I was, I guess, but I was also a despised pest. Once, as I rode piggyback in the falling snow, my boot slipped off. I didn’t say anything until we got to St. Greg’s in the hopes it’d disqualify me from school that day. They screamed at me the whole way back trying to find that boot. Jan was inconsolably enraged, and Rose was near tears because we’d been late several times that month—all my fault. I don’t know how they put up with me. On summer nights, they’d get their revenge.

      Jan’n’Rose hung out with their Filipino friend Marge and her effeminate little brother, TeeTee. Jan had this way of turning everything into a military action, so instead of strolling the neighborhood, they’d march. Or, Jan’d march and they’d follow. Whenever Jan saw me, she’d unleash this seething scream and sprint after me. I’d take off running, and the rest of them followed, laughing. It sucked sometimes, but I loved them like that—like every moment of my life they were my sisters. Not my adopted sisters, or my black sisters, or my Afro-Caribbean sisters. Just my sisters—that simple. Our neighborhood was so accepting of us and them that it was like nobody noticed. That fight was the first time it’d been thrust in my face. They were different than me. Even though every fiber of my being knew they were part of me, and I part of them.

      CHAPTER 4

      QUARK

      MY BROTHER RICH was a racist, but he was one of the few individuals in the world who actually almost had the right to be one. He was the victim of a terrible hate crime.

      It happened earlier in the same summer as the fight. Rich, Nancy, and another friend of theirs named Garret were walking through some alley in Rogers Park looking for a basement party they’d gotten bad directions to. It was about midnight, and they passed a liter of Old Style amongst themselves. The neighborhood streets were quiet. Suddenly, two black men burst out of a gangway behind them.

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