7

Walking home that day was the first time I ever really noticed the Eyez.

Some graffiti artist had painted strange eyes all around the neighborhood. Some were small, gazing at you from a fire hydrant or mailbox. Others were big, staring at you from the side of a building or on a tree. They kinda blended in, so I’d never paid them any mind. But today, they seemed to be watching me. Every block that I passed, those eyez were popping out to me. Did someone just put them up or did I just never notice them before? It was kind of creepy. I walked faster, kept my eyes on the ground. But even there, I saw a pair staring at me from a crosswalk.

Destiny wanted to come over to my place, but I said something lame like an artist needs to work alone. The truth was, watching the footage on my computer made my mind reel. Getting caught up in the action was one thing. Seeing it on your computer was another. Did I really want to make this video?

I’d skipped my 4:30 dinner with Mom routine and said I had a lot of homework to do. Somehow I let it slip that I was out videotaping with Destiny and she got all excited that I might have a real friend.

Maybe Mom was right because as soon as I went into my room, Destiny texted me. Nobody ever texted me, except Mom when she was checking in. Destiny kept poking me every twenty minutes or so, asking if she could come by. It had been a long time since anybody that wasn’t related to me showed an interest.

It felt good.

Eventually, she sent me the password and a link to a Facebook page she’d created for me. It was called Fish Films and was described as “Life Underwater.”

Destiny was the only one who friended me. Suddenly, I didn’t mind her calling me Fish. It was her special name for me, which meant we had some sort of connection and that she would bring me into her crew. I guess that made us friends.

It said so on my Facebook page.

I minimized the browser and stared at the frozen image of C-Jay’s fist flying through the air about to knock this guy out. This was something different, that’s for sure. I thought about a quote I read in that book Mrs. Lee gave me where some artist summed up his artistic mission in life: “Capture something different and people will remember you.”

People would remember me for this.

It’d take a lot of work with this rough footage of my first Knockout Game. Maybe I could make that my style—out of control mayhem put to some mad rap or punk—raw and on edge. Still, I didn’t want her seeing anything until it was memorable. Even if it took all night.

I texted back: “All gud things cum 2 those who w8.”

It was Friday, so I could stay up all night working on this video. I loaded up on Mom’s coffee and dove in.

Next thing I knew, the front door was opening. My head was resting on the keyboard. I remembered I was editing, but what was Mom doing home? Did she forget something? Then I noticed a little sliver of daylight creeping across my bed.

Morning.

Shit, was I late for school? I jumped up—then remembered it was Saturday. Whoa. That had never happened before. I guess I had been in the zone. I squinted at my video editor and saw that I had compiled a two-minute video. Outside, Mom shuffled about. It was only a matter of time till she knocked. And then, she’d get all curious. . . .

I somehow caught a second wind and quickly uploaded the video to my Facebook page for Destiny to look at. She was my only friend, so no one else would see it. She could check out this version and then I’d tweak it later. I remembered doing all kinds of crazy stuff with the footage. Mostly playing with that shot of the fist rushing at the guy, over and over, using different filters and speeds and colors. It was almost like a hallucination. I guess staying up all night made me hallucinate, but now I was crashing big time. I sent her a message, even as my eyes began to droop. I hoped she’d like it.

Mom and I usually had breakfast together before she went to bed, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open a second longer. My face barely hit the pillow before I was asleep.

My head was buzzing. I dreamt I was being chased by bees.

It was my phone.

I leaned over and checked the ID. Only three people ever appeared on that screen.

Destiny. She texted: “Get up! Check yur FB page.”

I stumbled out of bed over to my computer and tapped the space bar. My Facebook page was still up, but there was no difference.

Then it refreshed. There was a message from Destiny.

And forty-six friend requests.

WTF?

I read Destiny’s message: “I shared your vid. That was fucking amazing, Fish. You’re good, bitch! I got like 50 comments already and I’m sure people will be friending you too. The King LOVED it. He wants to meet with you later today. We’re going out for Chinese, so meet us at the Chung King Palace at 4. Damn girl, you a hit!”

I read the comments on her share. They said things like: “OMFG TKO 4ever!”

“Damn, boy got bang!”

“Knockout King krew rulz!”

Stuff like that.

I loved the ones that talked about how fucking great the video was. Someone said it made them cry it was so funny and so fucking awesome at the same time. Nobody had ever said anything like that about something I’d made.

Watching my movie again was a trip. I had slowed things down, added this weird music and sound effects (you can find pretty much anything online) then speeded it up before key moments—an adrenaline rush. It was like being on drugs. Or at least what I imagine that to feel like.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a strange feeling came over me. I felt warm inside, a little fire burning in my stomach.

The only time I could remember feeling like that was about two years ago when I made a drawing for my dad for his fiftieth birthday. He had been in a bad mood all day, angry at himself for getting old, I guess. But when he unwrapped my present; he kept staring at it until his eyes started getting all misty. The drawing showed me, Mom, and him fishing on Lake Maumelle. That was our last good vacation together. He had it framed.

It was a good feeling knowing you could make a person feel something—good or bad, happy or sad. That wasn’t art. It was power.