Amir, where the heck do you think you’re going?” my father said angrily. I was just grabbing my keys and heading to work. Dang!
I was a month away from seventeen years old. I loved my pops, for real, but I was sick of him riding me like I was a donkey. I was not an ass. I did what I had to do. I took care of my responsibilities. I had a little side job so I would not have to get spending money from him. Why did he care where I was going? He was a surgeon. He was always gone.
Being a little truthful and a lot sarcastic I said, “What is it now: my room, the dishes, the trash? Done, done, and done. I’m going to work, Dad, that’s all.”
“Anna, you better do something with this boy because he’s getting way too mouthy and trying me way too much.”
“Amir, respect your father, honey,” my mom said. She never defended me.
I did not hate him, but I wondered what was up his butt because he treated me like dirt. I liked athletics more than academics, and I figured that was his problem. I did not look like him. I did not act like him. I certainly did not think like him. Picture a nerdy black man with glasses, dressed in khakis, a white shirt, and loafers. That was him. I had muscles and swag.
It might have taken me longer than what came to him naturally when it came to the books, but I buckled down and had a 3.75 GPA. So what was his problem? Why was he always riding me? Why did he push me all the time? He wanted my respect, but he had not respected me for most of my life.
Kids I hung around always said they envied what I had—a dad who was a doctor, a dad who was involved in my life, and a dad who lived in my same home. That was just it. The structure I lived in had not much to it. There was some Sheetrock with some bricks on the outside. However, there certainly was not much love shared on the inside.
As for dreams and goals and stuff that I was supposed to aspire to, I had not really given it much thought. Yeah, I was a junior in high school, and I was almost out of my parents’ door. But when I was in middle school, my dad laughed at everything I wanted to be and told me to choose something else. I got tired of trying to come up with something that interested me and that my father didn’t think was pointless. He said everything I was looking into did not have an opportunity to bring in six figures. I was a rapper in my elementary school talent show and won. Last time I looked, Jay-Z, Diddy, Kanye West, and other players in the game were holding down big loot. My dad said over his dead body would I get out on stage and make money as a stupid entertainer. Then in the seventh grade, when I got all the awards in football, I wanted to be a professional baller, but of course my father protested. He felt that men banging their heads around was beneath his son’s dignity. Then I started looking at more practical jobs, like being a dentist or a veterinarian, but he still thought that paled in comparison to being a surgeon.
I’ve never been able to measure up. Somewhere between the eighth and ninth grade, I stopped putting myself on his scale. Our relationship was so strained: like a wet paper towel holding a bunch of raw potatoes. Any moment it was going to bust.
“What’s going on with you, Amir? You giving me attitude? You’re a big boy, but you are not grown. Do I need to remind you of that?” my dad got in my face and asked.
I picked up my left hand to look at my watch, but my dad swatted my hand down real hard. Instinctively, I flexed my muscles and came at him. I was almost six foot one, and he was barely five foot nine. He was the parent, but his body made him look like a kid.
“Honey, just let the boy go on. You’re on call tonight, and you might have to go back to the hospital. No stress,” my mom said, giving my dad wise advise. “Amir, get on out of here.”
“Working at a gym,” my dad snorted. “I can get him a job as an orderly at the hospital. At least he’d be around the environment he needs in order to learn something. He needs all the extra help that he can get with his intellect,” my dad said, throwing the only jab he could.
I threw my hands up at that moment, walked out the door, and slammed it shut. I did not care if he came out and told me to never come back. It did not matter because for some reason it felt like I did not belong there anyway. What was the good in having a dad who every day made you feel like you were inadequate compared to him? I knew fathers were supposed to have high expectations, but weren’t they supposed to love you unconditionally? Goodness gracious, if I would have been born with cerebral palsy or Down syndrome, he would not have been able to take it even though he was a doctor.
When I got to the gym, I was fifteen minutes late. I went to my locker to put up my stuff. I knew I had a class that had already begun, but it was what it was, and I was here now.
“No need to change,” said Mr. Wan. He was the small but super strong owner of Cheertowne, the gym where I worked.
“I’m ready, sir. I was just gonna put away my things. I don’t have to change, and I’m sorry for being late,” I added. Mr. Wan still looked annoyed.
“Sorry is not gonna cut it this time, young man. Head out the door, I don’t need you,” Mr. Wan said.
Mr. Wan was Asian, and I did not know if he was no nonsense because of his culture, or if he felt the pressure of running a business in a down economy. For years Cheertowne had been known as the gym that trained the best competition squads in the metro Atlanta area, but due to the recession, people could not afford to pay three grand a year for their child to cheer. Many still wanted to come for lessons so when they were finally able to cheer for their school, they would also be able to tumble.
I could get that Mr. Wan had to be tough, but I was not the kind of guy to plead for anything. I was not so cool that I thought I was all that. However, I was not weak either.
“Can I talk to you, sir?” I said in a truly respectful way.
“In my office . . . in my office now,” he huffed.
Seeing his impatience, I got to the point quickly. “I apologize for being late.”
“You have a cell, but you no call. Young people call and text for everything else. You late for work, and you no call,” Mr. Wan vented.
Coming clean I said, “Sir, it was my dad.”
“Always your dad. Always him not wanting you to be here. He came to my gym angry a couple of times. Maybe you not work here, and Dad won’t blow up. I can’t let your problem be my problem, Amir. Son, you are growing up, and you must understand you have to handle business.”
“You’re right, sir,” I said to him, owning up to my mistakes.
I knew my dad tripped sometimes. I knew he was home today. I should’ve planned extra time for him to give me strife.
“But look out your window,” I said. We looked through the glass onto the gym floor. “Look at all those little kids. They aren’t learning a thing because their favorite coach isn’t out there with them. They look bored. They look like they might quit and take their money with them. You need to keep me here. Let me coach. Let me teach. Let me stay.”
I guess when he saw what I was talking about he said, “One more time.”
I reached out my hand to give him dap, but he didn’t know what to do with that.
I couldn’t really explain why I liked tumbling. My mom put me in gymnastics after watching the Olympics one year. She felt like I could get a gold medal. My dad approved of the Olympics because it was an elite-type pursuit. I went to the gym, and the tumbling stuff came naturally. To this day, I find it a thrill to help others do spirals and aerials.
Before I could get out there, Lexus, this girl who I used to really kick it with and who worked at the gym, came up to me. “Where have you been?” she whined.
I looked at her like she was insane. What business was it of hers? She was acting way too over the top. It was like she had no life other than me. She’d call me every five minutes, and then she even got a job at the gym to be closer to me. This girl needed to move on.
It started when I met up with her at the movies a few months back. Our hormones started rising, and we made each other feel good. I told her I did not want anything serious, and at first she said she could handle it. But she couldn’t. She always wanted more attention from me. I tried breaking up with her three times before school started, but she just wasn’t leaving me alone. I wanted to be the one to do the chasing, and I definitely didn’t need a girl who wouldn’t cut a brother a break.
Thankfully, another co-worker, Carlen, who also went to my high school, saw that I was hemmed up. I gave him a signal. He picked up on it and called me over to my class.
When I walked away, Lexus said, “So it’s like that? You just gonna use me up and throw me out with the trash?”
I kept walking. There was no need for me to respond. I definitely did not want her to feel like garbage, but we had no connection. The crazy chick then ran up to me and slapped me hard.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried when I looked at her is a disappointed way.
“These kids in the gym did not see what you did. You better hope Mr. Wan didn’t either, or you might lose your job. I was never trying to hurt you, and I never led you on.”
She ran out of the gym, and I ran over to the kids. I hoped we stayed in opposite corners because things could only get worse between us.
“Man, these cats ain’t gonna go to state,” Carlen muttered. We were in the stands waiting for the opening kickoff of the Lockwood Lions. Lexus had tagged along.
“Yeah, ’cause you aren’t on the team, right?” I teased and jabbed him lightly on the arm.
“You should be out there,” he said, trying to hit me below the belt since he knew I had skills from our days in the little league football.
Carlen got me. I had no words to defend why I was not out there. I was frustrated just being a spectator because I knew I had more athletic ability than most of the boys out on the field. I actually got a little salty with him. I was angry he called me out. Even with a crowded stadium full of packed fans, I wanted to stay to myself.
What was really going on? What was keeping me from going after what I really wanted? Did I really want to play ball?
I noticed Lexus sliding closer and closer to me. I did not want to come to the game with her, but Carlen asked if I’d ride with him, and I said yes, not knowing he told Lexus she could go too. Next thing I knew, her hand was on my thigh. Without thinking, I jumped up like the rest of the crowd and cheered as the Lions entered the field. There was a big man in front of Carlen. He was blocking Carlen’s view. I knew if I sat behind him, I would not be able to see the whole field. However, I was a little taller than Carlen, and I’d rather have a bad view than be seated next to crazy Lexus.
“Hey, man,” I said, “Wanna switch places? Nobody’s in front of me, and you’d have a better view.”
“Yeah, man, that’d be great,” Carlen said. He quickly switched places.
Lexus huffed. Carlen had binoculars and put them around his neck as he clapped and screamed uncontrollably like he was the Lions number-one fan. I was relieved to have distance between me and the psycho chick, although Carlen’s big personality tended to attract a lot of unwanted attention as well.
After Lexus and her pushy ways, I thought the last thing I wanted to be thinking about would be females. But then I saw the cheerleaders out on the field; one girl in particular made me do a double take. I was mesmerized by her glowing chocolate skin, her whipped short haircut, her perfectly proportioned body, and her infectious smile. I yanked Carlen’s binoculars away from him. When I looked closer, she was perfect. No fake long hair trying to keep up with the Kardashians. She wasn’t all hoochie. Her boobs weren’t going to knock you over, but they pulled you in. The girl was beautiful.
When the cheerleaders went over to the sidelines, she was the loudest one. Trying to hype up the crowd, she just made you want to get in the game. I found myself staring.
“Dang, man, did you see that first play?” Carlen shouted, killing my eardrum.
“What happened?” I said, turning my head from the sidelines to the field.
“What you doing, man? Looking at the cheerleaders or something?” he said as he popped the back of my head and took back his binoculars. “All that shiny gold on those girls,” Carlen sniffed. “I would have done something more understated,” he said, being the fashionable guy that he was.
Lexus sneered, “I know he’s not looking at the cheerleaders. They’re nothing to look at.”
I wanted to remind her that she tried out and didn’t make it, but I didn’t go there. She was dead wrong anyway. All the girls shaking their pom-poms were the cutest our school had to offer. Of course I had to carry my man card even though Carlen did not, so I played it off like I was into the game.
Turning to Carlen I said, “No, I wasn’t looking at the cheerleaders. I just missed the play.”
“It’s the secondary man, we just got a pick. Dang, they need some help out there. You should go out for the team, Amir. I know you used to play cornerback. Plus, you’d look fine in that uniform.”
“Amir used to play football?” Lexus laughed.
As if he was my agent, Carlen replied boldly, “Yeah, he was amazing. This seventh grader just tearing up the field. He was doing his thing.” He looked at me. “I don’t think you played your eighth-grade year. Did you get hurt or something?”
I just shook my head not wanting to give him a response. The only thing hurt were my feelings when my dad told me I could not suit up again. Thankfully, Carlen’s attention went back to the game when the crowd screamed. The more I watched, the more I felt I in the wrong place in the stadium.
When halftime came, the cheerleaders were introduced. Carlen hit me on the leg and said, “Man, you know I don’t swing that way, but a few of these girls look good enough to gobble up.” I knew they were fine. We both smiled.
“You kidding me?” Lexus muttered. “They are tore up.”
“No hating. And you need my binoculars. The juniors on varsity are hotter than one hundred degrees,” Carlen said, fanning himself.
The cheerleaders were tumbling, and I was impressed. However, when the announcer got to the last girl—the one I’d been eyeing all first half—she could not do anything. Maybe she could do it, but she froze up. Whatever it was, she ran off the field.
I dashed out of the stands before my two co-workers could ask me anything. I was going really fast through the crowd, not knowing why I was looking for her, but her exact image would not leave my brain. I came to a complete stop when I got to the concession stand. What I saw first were her legs. Beautiful.
She was at the back of the line and I stood behind her. I was moved, as I could hear her weeping. I didn’t know this girl, but I wanted to dry her every tear. I was a semi-pro at teaching folks how to tumble. I was known for helping girls with mental blocks break free and fly. If helping her acquire the skills to be competitive would put a smile back on her face, I had to let her know the man standing behind her could help. Without thinking, I touched her arm and said some encouraging words. I had to let her know I was serious. She could do this. I made her blush, and that made me feel good.
Before we could carry on a conversation, an annoying voice yelled out, “Amir, why’d you leave me?”
My boiling point dropped to a new low. Before the cheerleader could notice, I dealt with the problem. I dashed out of line and ushered Lexus away from the crowd.
She went off right away. “I want be with you. I want to show you how much I care. I know I was a little forceful the other day with the slap and all, but being too sweet was annoying. I wanted you to see that I had a little fire in me too. I can show you right now how hot I am,” Lexus said.
At that moment I wanted to yell out, “Is there anybody who wants to get lucky? There’s a girl right here willing to give it up.”
Dang, the last thing I wanted her to do was think we were together. As we walked back to our seats in the bleachers, I kept repeating to her over and over that she wasn’t my girl. But it seemed my words were going in one ear and out the other.
“I mean, what do you want me to do, Lexus?” I did not spare her the harsh words. “I’ve ignored you. I’ve tried being friends . . .”
Tears were shed. I felt bad. I wasn’t going to back down though. There was really no hope, and she needed to get that. I threw up my hands and sat on the other side of Carlen.
When the game was over, the Lions were victors. Despite a bad defense, we found a way to hold on. Our quarterback, Blake Strong, had an arm that was the difference maker.
I was really bummed out that I did not drive. I had no idea that Carlen was going to be hanging out at the post-game party. He loved talking about fashion and the cheerleaders’ showy uniforms. I just rolled my eyes. However, when I got into the party and saw the mystery cheerleader walking in with her crew, I wasn’t in such a rush to jet.
“You never look at me like that,” Lexus blurted out, startling me. “You’re putting me down for a Cheerio?”
“What’s that?” I said, looking at her truly confused.
Educating me she said, “It’s what the show Glee calls their cheerleaders.”
“I don’t watch Glee,” I snapped. I wanted to get away. Fast. “I don’t really watch any TV,” I said more slowly, trying to sound less rude.
“Well, you should because it’s about people who feel out of place and are not in the in crowd,” Lexus said. “You see all those ballers over there, guys who won the game in the last minute. Well, you’re standing over here with me. Those girls that you’re eyeing so hard and think have it going on won’t give you the time of day because you don’t have a letterman’s jacket. I’m not a nerd or a nobody. But to them, I don’t exist. Neither do you. So why you think you’re all that and deserve one of their girls, I haven’t the foggiest. Those guys will chew you up and spit you out.”
I just threw up my hands and walked over to the mystery girl. One of her girlfriends was standing there. They both smiled my way.
The friend said, “Hi, I’m Charli Black, and this is my girlfriend, Hallie Ray.”
“It’s you,” Hallie said. Then she hugged me real tight.
At that moment, I was conscious of all the football players eyeing me like I had stepped on their turf. But whatever. They weren’t the only ones that had game. Hallie Ray was lovely, and I could tell from the way she was feeling me that I wasn’t a true outsider. To her I had something.
We finally got back to Cheertowne, and I retrieved my car. Lexus pouted all the way back, and I was thrilled when she left me alone. I was also glad Carlen had a key to the gym because I had to use the bathroom. Carlen startled me as he had to go too.
“Boy, you better let someone know you coming in here,” I called out, finishing my business. I didn’t feel uncomfortable using the bathroom with a guy like Carlen, but I was jumpy tonight.
“Man, who else would you think it was?” Carlen asked.
“Crazy Lexus,” I replied quickly. I went to wash my hands.
“Yeah, I don’t know what you gonna do with that girl,” Carlen said. “All she talks about is you. If you don’t take her back, I don’t know what she’ll do to herself.”
“Dude, don’t joke,” I replied. I really felt she was unstable. “Look, my curfew is one and it’s one now. I’m out. You ready to lock up?”
Carlen hurried and washed his hands. “Yeah, I gotta take Lexus home.”
I joked, “And talk some sense into her. Dang.”
Walking to the front door of the gym, Carlen said, “I’m not gonna talk too much sense into her, or she’ll try to talk to me. That needs to be your headache ’cause ain’t no telling what that girl is willing to do to keep you.”
When we went outside, I saw Lexus sitting on the curb, sobbing. I wanted to just keep going and pretend I didn’t see her there, but she cried louder when she saw me.
“Lexus, what are you crying for?” I asked though I was truly not interested.
Lexus whined, “Like you even tryna ask. I saw you tonight talking to that cheerleader. Is it because she’s so popular? Are you so superficial and caught up in all of that?”
I didn’t even know Hallie Ray and certainly didn’t know if anything would come of the feeling I had for her. Suddenly, Lexus jumped up and started beating on my chest. Enough was enough, and I grabbed her wrists tightly.
“Stop this,” I said to her. “Carlen, get your girl.”
Lexus shouted, “Then love me!”
Before I could respond, she was in my arms and slobbering all over my face.
“I gotta go,” I said. I tried to pull the girl off but she was stuck to me like a spider’s web. She would not let me be. She held on to my shirt. Thankfully, Carlen came over. He stepped between us, but she still held on.
“Lexus, girl, dang! What’s up? You don’t want him to have to call the police, do you, girl? You’re starting to act like a stalker,” Carlen tried rationalizing. “Girlfriend, get a grip.”
Finally, she loosened her hold enough for me to completely pull away. Steamed, I went over to my new Mustang. I looked down, and noticed the driver’s side front tire was flat. I knew I was going to be in for it because it was already one fifteen. Thankfully I had a spare in the back of my car. Problem was the back driver’s side tire was flat too. Just then I threw down my keys, rushed over to Lexus, and pushed her.
I shouted, “What the heck did you do to my car?”
She gave me this grim smile. This girl was acting crazy. Now I really did want to call the police.
“Oh snap,” Carlen called out when he saw my car. “Girl, did you really do that?”
Not answering the question, Lexus announced, “Take me home. I don’t have a knife on me. However, I told you, you’d regret it if you didn’t come back to me.”
“So now you’re threatening me?” I said to her. “Could you help me with this tire and then get her outta my face, Carlen?”
Carlen and I both had Mustangs. His was not new, but his spare would fit. He told me I could use it. It was good having his help putting them on, all the while seething that the person who did this was just a few feet away.
“I told you she was wild,” Carlen said while Lexus was seated in his car. “I didn’t know she was capable of doing all this though. I don’t even wanna take her home. What if she thinks I’m you and slits my throat? She’s gotta have some kind of box cutter or something.”
“At least I’ll be able to tell the police who did it,” I teased him.
“Oh, so you think you got jokes?”
“Now you see, ain’t nothing funny about Lexus. I can’t believe she did this,” I fumed.
Like a girl in a horror movie who pops up out of nowhere, she hovered over the both of us and screamed, “Prove it!”
Carlen squealed like a little girl. I stood up. My patience with her was gone.
“Get back over to the car, Lexus,” I demanded.
I knew she was upset. I knew she was mad. I knew she was ticked that I ended things, but for real, she was taking things too far. Yeah, my loving might be all that, but truth be told, if she hadn’t shown me she was crazy, I might’ve broke her off a little piece sometime before she graduated. Now all that was over. If she came near me again, no telling what I’d do.
So I stood my ground and demanded, “Get to Carlen’s car.”
That scared her because she left. When I got home it was 1:50 a.m. The lights in my house were on, and my parents were sitting on the couch.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I know my curfew is one, but somebody slashed my tires,” I tried explaining.
He squinted. “Someone slashed your tires? Where was this?”
“At the gym.”
“I told you working down there wasn’t the best environment. By working in the hood, my son has enemies. You need to be doing something more productive and working someplace safer. People going nowhere are always jealous. You need to be better than that and not care what the little man thinks. Your brother is home from college. Anthony Jr. won that national science competition. He’s been waiting since eleven to tell you about it. We were going to celebrate, cake and all. You only said you were going to the game, and even in the worst case your curfew was at one.”
“I rode with some co-workers to the game, and I left my car. I didn’t know they were going to the dance.”
“Do they trump your parents? Do they make your decisions? I don’t even care who they are. You could’ve let us know something. You have a cell phone.”
“Son, I was worried,” my mom added. The mood was getting ugly.
I looked in her eyes and could tell she was weary from hearing my dad go on and on. I hated that she always had to defend me. When was he going to cut me slack?
“Okay, Dad, what do you want me to say? I was irresponsible. I’m sorry I didn’t call. But I fixed the tires on my own. I didn’t call you to take care of them for me.”
“Your tires aren’t fixed,” he said. “You have spares on. But you’re right, the job is yours to have them fixed. I bought you a new car. Upkeep is your responsibility. Your little job can pay for new tires. I’m not gonna give you a dime to take care of any of that. And as soon as you make enough money to do that, you’re gonna quit.”
“I’m not quitting my job,” I said defiantly.
“You’re gonna do exactly what I say,” my dad snarled. “Some young men grow up and handle their responsibilities. Other young men just want to try adults. Newsflash for you, son. Nothing around here is your own. You do it my way, or you can get stepping. Why can’t you be like Anthony?”
“Because I’m Amir.”
“Right, the son who doesn’t measure up to my expectations. Just looking at you makes me sick,” my dad said before storming away.
I knew that was how he felt, but he never blatantly came out and said as much. Hearing that solidified the fact that as soon as I graduated from high school, I was not coming back to this house. Though I was his son, he certainly didn’t act like my father. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was a true outsider.