CHAPTER 18

FUSION

YOU CAN ONLY GET CHASED home from school so many times before you either get caught or stop running.

Life at Senn was getting worse for Ryan and Angel. T-Money, Twon, Tank, and Monteff were all full-blown Black Stones now and still bent on retaliation for what’d gone down with DeAndre. Ryan and Angel had to sneak through the halls and go into the bathroom together—one watched at the door while the other ran in and pissed. Then, at three-fifteen, they’d sneak out a side exit and jog their asses all the way back to the neighborhood. The TJOs weren’t showing no love. They was on their own—blowin’ in the wind.

Gordon had the day off, so I decided I’d go over and walk ’em home. I let ’em know, and they told me where to wait for ’em. I made the lonesome walk to Senn. Hollywood to Clark, past the dusty entrance to the corner store where the sunlight beat down on the chipped-tile entrance way. I passed the flower shop. All the un-bought daisies bowed and browned in the early autumn chill. I cut down Ardmore. Tall, tan-and-red brick apartment buildings lined either side of the street, and tin-sided bungalows and two-flats cowered in between ’em. I found myself looking up along the rooftops half-expecting to see some lookout catch me sneaking through. As I got to Ridge, there was this old lady in a house dress leaning out her third-story window with her hair all full of purple plastic curlers. Her weathered face scowled down at me as she peered out behind huge clear-framed glasses. There was a squad of pigeons in the center of the street near the crosswalk. They squawked as they gouged out chunks from a stale piece of bread. They tossed it up with quick shakes of their heads, and their oily, blue neck-feathers furrowed so they glistened purple in the afternoon sunlight.

Senn was even more menacing up close. It was a block wide and half that deep. The thick Greek-style pillars stretched three stories to the pitched roof, and the crisp cleanliness of the tan concrete gave it a chilling sense of justice and learning. Though, the maroon steel-mesh fencing over the windows hinted at the filth and horror inside its walls festering like innards of a carcass. The park that spanned out behind the school was empty. It was silent like a prison yard during a lockdown. There was the faint trickle of the city water fountain at the far-end. Traffic flicked past in gusts. The peacefulness in the park sat in stark contrast with its history. On weekend nights, its darkness was amplified by the thick-leaved trees. Endemic gunfire lit the heavy darkness like lightning flashes. Many gangbangers’d shot and stabbed each other there. There’d been more than a few horrific beatings with ball bats, fists, and chains along those twisting asphalt paths. I thought of Abraham Lincoln sitting down at the edge of the park.

What would he do?

Ridge Ave. cut through the neighborhood on a diagonal, and the intersection at Ardmore made the tan-bricked building on the corner across from Senn come to a sharp point like an arrowhead. I figured no one could sneak up on me from over there, and I’d have a good view of the side door they’d come out of. The jostling, yellow-and-brown-leafed oak trees cast a deep shadow on Ardmore where it passed beside Senn’s south wing. As I crossed Ridge, the school bell let out its low buzz. Suddenly, the building came alive—vibrant, humming like a teakettle getting ready to scream. I hurried across the street and hid behind the jutting corner.

Suddenly, feet clapped the pavement. I craned my head around and looked east on Ardmore. Tank sprinted in a low hunch wearing a black Dago-T. He surged up the shadowed walkway like a fullback hitting a hole, and T-Money trotted after him, gripping the front of his blue jeans so they wouldn’t fall off his ass. He had on a black Raiders cap twisted sideways to the left like a clown. I dove behind the corner and pressed my back to the bricks. My chest sputtered as my notion of a safe walk home for Ryan and Angel was shattered like a windshield bashed-in with a crowbar. I slipped my head near the edge of the bricks and peeked around the corner.

“We gon’ catch dese mothafuckas today!” Tank screamed. He squeezed his fists at his sides. His heavy arms flared.

Then, Twon shot round the corner in an XL white t-shirt and red jeans. He grinned as he chased after them.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. It was like the wires tied up all my chest tubes in knots. I started to jog away up Ridge. My legs felt languorous. It felt like someone was pumping my stomach up with helium more and more. I bent at the waist. Vomit erupted from my mouth and nostrils. Bright orange splattered the cracked sidewalk slab. I hunched over it. My own shadow reflected in the murky pool. I wiped the slime from my lips with my trembling wrist. Goo clogged my nasal passages. My eyes teared. I stood up and took a deep breath—hollow, weak, and resolved. There was no fuckin’ way. If they're gonna stomp us again, it’s gonna be together. I turned back.

I slowed when I got to the corner and peered around it. Nothing. Everyone waited. T-Money and Twon pressed their backs to the wall around the corner from the exit. Tank stood right out front. He rocked his weight slowly, side-to-side. Tank watched the metal doors like a tiger waiting to be fed. There was a dreamy haze in his still face. His arms showed bulbous out of his Dago-T. My shoulder scraped across the gnarly bricks as a rickety Diesel box truck howled past on Ridge.

Suddenly, one of the school’s doors burst open. Ryan sprang out and down the steps in his beige Dickies and a loose white t-shirt. He looked back over his shoulder into the closing door.

“Come on, man!” Ryan shouted back as he jogged forward like a guy about to walk blindly into a light pole.

Tank swoop-stepped to Ryan, then he hefted a wide punch from his waist. It thumped into the base of Ryan’s jaw and deadened him. He fell clean out onto the grass beside the exit.

My knees were jumping up to my chest before I realized I was running—it was like an out of body experience. I sprinted right into it with absolutely no fucking idea what I was gonna do. T-Money and Twon ran around the corner and yanked on the door handles. I saw Angel in the little meshed-glass window. He held ’em locked. His face’d gone stone white.

Tank raised up his black and red Jordan high-top and stomped down on Ryan’s head. I broke from the shade into the sunlight. Not one of ’em so much as glanced back at me. Now, I was on the sidewalk, and I figured out what I was gonna do.

As I got up behind Tank, he twisted his thick neck. His eyes flashed at me. They trembled with rage, or maybe shock, or maybe fear. I didn’t stop. I just aimed the meaty end of my forearm at his throat. He raised his arms feebly at the last second. My forearm stuck in like I’d jammed it into a mound of wet concrete. I drove my legs and pole-axed Tank. His feet flew out from under him. The collision jarred me to an absolute halt. Tank landed, traps first, on the grass beside Ryan. The soles of his Jordans appraised the sky as both his hands reached blindly for his thorax. Ryan’s eyes flashed to mine from between his arms. He rolled to his side and got up.

“What de fuck!” T-Money yelled, spinning around toward me. He leapt down the steps.

Angel’s eyes lit up, then his face disappeared from the window. Suddenly, the door Twon tugged on exploded open, and Angel’s leg sprang out with it waist-high. Twon stumbled backward down the steps, trying to catch his balance. Angel leapt out and snagged Twon’s front collar, then began to wallop his fist into Twon’s shocked face. Twon reeled backward. His hands reached and grasped out at the air for balance.

I was so awestruck with the way Angel was getting down that I didn’t even react when T-Money sprang at me and grabbed me in a bear hug.

“We gotchu now, white boy,” he whispered. His hot Fritos breath swirled in my face.

I dipped my chin and drove my forehead into his mouth. I felt a click and something gave. He seethed through his teeth and swung a hard punch that planted into the nub behind my ear. I went cross-eyed, and my knees wobbled. I heard a hollow thump and saw Ryan’s beet-red face flash at my side. Then, Ryan reeled back again and swung high. I caught the glimmer of the metal seatpost bar we’d cut out of a bike frame. This time, it came down over the top of T-Money’s head with a metallic crack, like an aluminum bat just got a good piece of a fastball. T-Money crumbled. He grasped at my shirt to keep from slipping to the concrete.

I looked out at Angel, who’d just shoved Twon out into the street, sending him rolling on his back. Twon’s head cracked against the blacktop. His white Reeboks flew up in the air. A green Taurus came to a screeching stop and nearly hit him.

I kneed T-Money straight in the heart. He rocked onto his backside, gripping his chest like he’d been stabbed.

“Ahhh shit!” a voice rocketed over the chaos. Monteff and five others poured out of the main west exit of the school.

Tank got to his hands and knees and crawled out onto the sidewalk in a stupor. Ryan swung his leg back and booted Tank straight in the face. He didn’t miss a stride as we all broke across Ridge. The traffic squealed to a halt as we dashed past. When we hit the mouth of Ardmore, the squad of pigeons blew up in a flutter of blue and gray. The old lady gawked from her window perch. Her bottom jaw hung open, toothless.

We ran the whole five blocks back to my alley hooting and hollering like a pack of wild dogs lumbering through the forest. No one even chased us after the first twenty feet. We finally stopped running out back of Angel’s garage.

“How the fuck? How the fuck we get outta dere OK?” Ryan asked.

No one answered. All of us hunched over into a loose huddle with our hands on our knees. Our humped backs swelled and deflated. I caught eyes with Ryan, and the emerald-green looked like it’d been splashed with acid. The tiny tentacles in the splatters flared neon, and I saw all the things that made us best friends. His lips started to curl at the edges, and mine did, too, until we grinned. Then, his whole front row of teeth shone at me—all crooked like Stonehenge. Light-red blood lined the bottom row. I bared teeth right back.

“Oh my God…. Oh my God…. Oh my God…,” Angel murmured as he sat down on his backside. He laid flat in the thin rectangle of shade cast by the overhang of his garage.

T-Money’d ripped my t-shirt, so I hefted it up over my head and walked out to the center of the alley with the afternoon sun baking my damp skin. Sweat beads dripped off my shoulders, and I started to jump in a rhythm. My sneakers panged off the cracked alley pavement, and I bounded as high as I could. I raised my shirt over my head and swung it in wide circles as electric pulses flashed in my vision like fireworks were bursting inside my skull. This warm joy surged up in my chest, and I had to get it all out. My chest would explode if it wasn’t unleashed—I knew that much. Squealing noises erupted from my throat—wild screeches that echoed off the narrow corridor of garages. My heart pounded so hard I could hear my own pulse throb in my ears. I’d completed my quest. I’d been re-born a warrior, righteous and true and loyal to the bone.

•

THAT NIGHT, we were down at the sills when the Lincoln floated up.

“Hey, look who it is,” Mickey said, parking the Lincoln in front of the hydrant. A guy they called “Chief” slouched in the passenger seat. He had short, curly, blond hair and a chiseled Nordic face. He peered at us and smirked. Mickey turned to him and whispered something, then Chief nodded and aimed his long, bony finger at each one of us separately while he whispered back. Mickey got out of the Lincoln, which was strange; he never got out unless he had business to attend to. He peered at us with his chin tucked into his wide, hairy neck. A sly smirk slid across his lips.

“Word is in the neighborhood your little crew here is at war with the P Stones,” he said, stepping towards us slowly. “Whata you guys call yourself?”

“Fusion,” Ryan said, stepping towards Mickey and jutting his chin up like some corporal at attention. His imbecilic smirk snuck into his lips.

“Fusion…,” Mickey repeated. His smile grew as he stomped the rest of the distance between them. “Come here, you little fucker.” Mickey grabbed Ryan by his head and kissed his forehead with a loud smack. “You whooped them niggers good, didn’tcha?” He hugged Ryan’s head to his chest.

“They said it was all three of ya,” Mickey said, turning his urgent eyes on me. “What the hell? You ditch school for your boys or somethin’?” He grabbed my shoulder, and I felt the weight and power of his frame, but there was warmth in his hand as he looked me in the eyes. “Your brother’d be proud of you,” he said.

“Thanks, Mickey,” I said. My eyes burnt as I grimaced.

“And you, I knew you had some chink in ya. Fucking jump-kicking the door open on ’em?” Mickey said, glancing at Angel, then back at Chief in the Lincoln.

“He’s the one, right?” Mickey asked.

Chief nodded. His wide smile stretched across his face and made him look like The Joker. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed.

“Your last name’s German, right?” Mickey asked, looking back at Angel, who nodded. “Hey, that’s good enough for me… That good enough for you, Chief?” he asked over his shoulder.

Chief laughed and shouted, “As long as he keeps jump-kicking niggers, it is.” They both cracked up.

Mickey walked over to one of the sills and took a seat. We huddled around him.

“Like I told ya,” Mickey said, popping a Camel Filter in his mouth. Angel struck his lighter as Mickey patted his pockets. “The brothers have been keeping an eye on ya… But… We can’t go breaking up the Nation every time the peewees get into a scrap,” Mickey shrugged. “And you three made it out alive. Hell, ya did a whole lot better than making it out alive,” he said, smiling and showing his blackened bottom row of teeth. “Big things happening here, boys… Big things.” Then, he got up and walked toward the car. “You’re well on your way, all of youse… Fusion?” He scratched his head, then he stopped and looked back. “What the fuck’s dat even mean?”

I started to answer, but then Ryan piped in, “It’s when three combine to make one.”

Mickey paused, then he nodded at us and got into the Lincoln. “Tomorrow, you three are all taking the day off a school. Come by the house around noon. We’re gonna take a little ride over to old Senn and straighten things out.” He threw it in gear. “Fucking kids,” he said to Chief as the Lincoln drifted away from the curb.

•

A LITTLE WHILE LATER, the Good Girls showed up with hoop earrings dangling through their crimped curls and shiny nameplate necklaces glinting under their sparkly, lip-glossed smackers. Their New Wave bangs arched up stiffly over their bright eyes. They approached in a tight, little huddle like a flock of chicks, murmuring and giggling. When they got close, the huddle broke and Hyacinth was in the center. Her hair curled in twisted strands as dark-red streaks twirled into it—the color of strawberry jam. She trembled against the mid-September night breeze, and her dark eyes flickered. Her braces flashed at me between her glossy lips.

We decided it was a good night to drink those bottles of wine we’d stolen out of Seth’s basement, so we headed to the garage.

Hyacinth and I ended up in the “Boom-Boom Room,” as Angel called it. We’d sectioned off a corner of the garage with a metal shelving unit and butted the loveseat against the back of the couch. The girls put on a mixtape with a bunch of Boyz II Men songs and some other hit R&B crap, but it suddenly wasn’t crap anymore. All those lovesick, moaning lyrics we’d been making fun of for years suddenly struck a chord. They made my chest ache as I held Hyacinth around the waist with her legs bent and folded over my thighs. My whole body completely relaxed, and I melted into the uneven padding of the old loveseat.

There was the smell of WD-40 and her Watermelon Wave Bubblicious chewing gum. She raised her hand and softly touched my cheek with her fingertips, then her eyes went from mine to her fingernails.

“Almost,” she said to herself.

“Almost what?” I said, smirking.

“Almost matched the color.” She took her hand from my cheek and looked down at her fingernails.

“To what?”

“Your eyes.” She flashed her almond eyes to mine, then dropped them back down to her nails.

“That’s the color?” I took her other hand in mine and looked at her dark-blue nails.

“No, just one of ’em. There’s like five. They’re like two blue fireballs. It’s just my favorite one is this one—almost.” She looked at her fingernails again.

I stared into her glimmering eyes, and her damp lips collided into mine with a slow smush before I felt I’d even moved. Her body still tense, I slipped my hand on her thigh.

Everything seemed to move faster this night—the endless maze of kissing her neck and lips, the curling and twisting tongues, her breath fast and warm on my face. I slipped my hand up her short shorts and rubbed the edges of her panties. She gripped my wrist but didn’t push it away. Then, my finger was under the panties touching the trimmed hairs. I found the opening of warm, wet flesh. She gasped with the music flooding over all of it, then her hand left my wrist and gripped my dick, which was strained tight against my pants. She squeezed hard on the head, then she shocked me—she slipped her hand down my boxers and touched skin. Her hand was cool and eager. I had two fingers inside her, twirling them slowly, and I was amazed by the instant reactions on her face—her eyes shocked—choking back a cry. Then, she stopped me and spun around on the loveseat, panting in my face. She pulled my dick out of my waistband so just the head peaked out. I put my hand on her back and she slowly bowed-down with her tongue sticking out between her braces. She licked the head—it sent a sudden jolt of electricity through my legs, and I almost screamed. She popped upright, shushing me excitedly. Then, she giggled, and I softly guided her head down. She took the tip of my dick into her mouth. Her whole body trembled. I stared at the top of her head. Just the thought of those perfect lips touching me there—it was too much. I threw my head back into the cushion and came like I was having a grand mal seizure. I heard the moan before I realized it was happening and coming from me. Then, I cut it off as she caught the pumping cum in her mouth. This choking laughter came from the couch behind us, then the rest of the garage broke up. She slurped down the cum and sat upright covering her mouth. She looked at me horrified like she’d just committed a mortal sin. There was a silent second. Both of us froze, then we burst into laughter, and I eased my deflating, wet dickhead back into my pants.

She took a few deep swallows of wine, and we curled up together and stayed like that until she had to go.

I lifted the garage door just enough for the girls to duck under, and they shuffled out, prancing into the alley. Their giggles lifted up to the night.

I shut the door, took a deep breath, and exhaled. Ryan offered his opened pack of menthols. We all took one, and Angel sparked a light for us.

“You ever fuck a black chick?” Ryan asked, looking at me.

“No,” I said with an obvious ring. I mean, he knew I was a fucking virgin.

“Man, I gotta get me a black chick,” Ryan said, casting his imbecilic grin at Angel.

“There’s Monica,” Angel said as he puffed his smoke.

“She’s too young,” Ryan replied with a false tone.

“She’s thirteen,” I said. “She’s just a year younger than you, man.”

“She’s hot, ain’t she?” he said to Angel, then looked at me. “Ain’t she hot, Joe?”

“Come on, man. That’s like talking about my little cousin or something," I said, spitting in disgust. “Shit, I played doctor wit’ her when I was seven, for Christ’s sake!”

“How far you get?” he said. His crooked teeth glowed in the garage lamps.

“You sicko,” I replied, looking away.

“Ryan’s a fuckin’ pedophile,” Angel said, glancing at me sideways.

“Naw, but what happened tonight? We all heard your ass squealing. What, she jack you off or something?” Ryan asked, his voice squeaking with excitement.

The glow in my face and eyes gave it all away. They both just patted me on the back before we finished the bottles and called it quits.

•

THAT NIGHT I LAY AWAKE. My whole body felt like I was floating two inches off the bed, and every few minutes I’d burst into laughter. The old man even had to call out from down the hall for me to ‘Shut the hell up!’ When I did sleep, it felt like I was falling. Then, I’m running in pitch-black. I can hear the panting. The heavy, thumping gate behind me closing in—no way out. Running, running as hard as I can. My strides elongate slower and longer. I can’t go any further. Then, I just stop. I turn around, and the Beast is before me, hunched up on its hind legs, panting and blowing tufts of steam out of its glossy, black nostrils. I look in its eyes—black mirrors reflecting my own horrified face. Light flickers in my periphery. I peer down at my upturned palms. The flashes pulse. Blue, purple and red strands of light twist through each other like electric flames in my palms. Then they formed into a perfect global sphere like a sun. The power’s in my hands now. The Beast tilts its head and looks down at it, then he unleashes a sudden, deep snorting inhale.

Something ripped from his torso and splatter-clapped to the ground. Slippery, black innards dangle from his hollowed out ribcage. Nothing. A full hide of mangy fur levitating. The buffalo head hung. The bear snout and dark lips tremble over small saw blade teeth. Black drool dangles at the creases, falling in long strands. An inch-thick, festering, dark-purple wound starts above its eye and stretches up, then disappears at the top of its skull. Then, inside the wound, miniature white maggots crawl and twist in the flesh. Its frame frozen and slumped like it’s hanging from a meat hook. Its eyes like two solid-black marbles. Ape arms, a curved back, and stubby legs like a hyena. It releases a horrified howl, bellowing into the vast blackness. There are mountains on the horizon, and their cliffs are cracked and jagged like the thick chunks of broken ice undulating atop the lake in January. A peach haze above the cliffs silhouettes them. The aura fades sharply to the pitch-black dome above.

I reach up toward its face—the orb of twisting light hovers in my palm. As my fingertips touch his damp, cold snout, he instantly melts into strings of black tar that flop into a puddle at my feet. The strands of light in the sphere reflect off the pool, flickering across the surface.