13

RODNEY

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Rodney says to Jawahir as she joins him at the corner of the school parking garage. “I was worried you’d listen to what everyone’s saying, decide it wasn’t worth it.”

“Don’t say such a thing,” Jawahir says.

“Look, I have a place.” Rodney tells Jawahir about his visit with Uncle Larry, including Larry’s warning about how love is like fire. Jawahir cools his talk of fire with a kiss. Rodney wants to say more, but he can’t break away. With his back against the wall, Rodney breaks the kiss and pulls Jawahir tight to his chest. His heart beats louder than any bass. “Can you say the words? Will you make the promise?”

Jawahir stands on her toes to get her mouth even with his left ear. “I love you.” She repeats the phrase over and over.

“Tomorrow night, we will—” Rodney starts.

“You’ll do nothing,” Farhan says. He stands six feet away. The rage in his normally steely green eyes burns like a molten lava. Ayaan is two feet behind him. “Take your hands off her.”

Jawahir starts to back away, but Rodney pulls her even tighter.

“I said take your hands—”

Jawahir turns her head toward Farhan. “Farhan, this is none of your business.”

Farhan takes a step closer. “You dishonor all of us. You betray your family.”

Rodney leans down and whispers into Jawahir ear, “I love you. Run!” Rodney releases Jawahir and takes off running away from school toward the street. Jawahir follows, with Farhan and Ayaan close behind. “This way!” Rodney shouts when Jawahir catches up. He grabs her hand and they run together.

They run hard against the wind, but Farhan and Ayaan are only steps behind. Rodney directs Jawahir toward a park a few blocks away from the school. A park he used to know well. As he’d hoped, when they arrive at the park, Marquese and a few others are mixing basketball and business.

“What the hell, bro?” Marquese yells when he sees Rodney and Jawahir. He bounces the ball in front of him as the two get closer to the court, but then he stops. Rodney and Jawahir reach Marquese and stop running. Rodney bends over and takes a deep breath, and then he sees Farhan. But behind him is no longer just Ayaan, but a small group of Somali young men. Most carry weapons they must have grabbed on the way: a piece of pipe, a broken bottle, and assorted other makeshift tools of destruction.

As Farhan and his group close, Marquese directs everyone to stand behind him. Rodney wonders if Marquese or any of the others are carrying.

“This is our park,” Marquese yells at Farhan.

Farhan puts his hands in the air as if surrendering. “This isn’t about turf. It’s about them.” Farhan points at Rodney and Jawahir, who stand directly behind Rodney, both breathing heavy.

“Truth is, I don’t like it any more than you,” Marquese says. “But he’s blood, so—”

“This isn’t between you and me.” Farhan walks slowly toward Marquese. “It’s between me and Rodney. He’s taken something that was promised to me. He’s soiled something innocent. He has—”

“Man, just shut up and get the hell out of my park.”

Farhan cocks his head, gives Marquese a crazed look. “Not until we settle this.”

“Settle what?”

Farhan takes off his jacket and lays it on the ground. He takes a switchblade from his pocket and sets it on top of his jacket, then points at Rodney. “He wins, he keeps her. Except he won’t.”

Marquese turns to stare at Rodney, who isn’t moving an inch other than to pull Jawahir closer to him. “No, I’m not fighting him,” Rodney says to Marquese, shaking his head. “I’m not getting violated and going back inside. I’m not—”

“Where does all this fighting get us? It needs to end sometime. That time is now,” Jawahir says.

“Looks like there ain’t gonna be no fight,” Marquese says, “so get your—”

But Farhan cuts him off with a string of slurs and swears directed at Rodney. “You best bounce,” Marquese says, but Rodney pushes pass him. Jawahir tries to stop him, but Rodney steps forward.

“Come on, you heard her. Where does all this fighting get us? It needs to end sometime. That time is now,” Rodney says. He imagines Jawahir smiling at him for using her words, but Farhan isn’t smiling. His sneer screams hate.

Rodney puts his hand behind him. “Jawahir, we’re leaving, together.” Jawahir steps forward, takes Rodney’s hand and clutches it so hard that Rodney winces in pain. They start to leave, but Farhan stands in their way. Rodney says nothing and tries to step around him, but Farhan cuts him off.

“Just leave us alone.”

Farhan answers by spitting in Rodney’s face. Rodney wipes the spittle from his face onto Farhan’s shirt. Farhan responds by pushing Rodney down. Jawahir throws herself on top of Rodney to protect him.

“Get out of the way!” Farhan shouts, but Jawahir won’t budge. Farhan grabs her arm and pulls her up, pushes her away, and then balls his fists. He motions for Rodney to stand. Rodney stands, takes a deep breath, and stares at Farhan with an icy glare he learned on the streets, but Farhan doesn’t blink.

Rodney looks back at Marquese and his friends, all of them yelling at him to fight, but then he gazes at Jawahir. She mouths the word “no.”

Rodney reaches his hand toward Jawahir, but Farhan knocks it away. Three times, Rodney reaches his hand out, and three times Farhan chops it, each time harder. “You can do that a hundred times, Farhan, and the answer’s the same. I’m not fighting you. This stupid war, for me, is over.”

Farhan pushes Rodney’s chest hard, backing him up until he’s forced him against the fence. The two crowds of young men converge, but keep their distance. “A thousand times, Farhan, and I won’t—”

“Screw this MLK crap!” Marquese steps forward. “You want to fight someone? Let’s go!”

Farhan turns his back to Marquese and walks back toward his jacket, but he doesn’t pick up the jacket, he picks up the blade. Rodney hears the blade come out and tries to get between Farhan and Marquese, but they’re both charging forward. Farhan pushes the blade toward Rodney but misses. His hand goes underneath Rodney’s arm and stabs Marquese in the chest. Marquese cries out in pain.

Rodney grabs Farhan’s wrist and slams it against his knee. The bloody blade falls to the ground next to Marquese. Blood squirts from the wound in Marquese’s chest. Still holding onto Farhan’s wrist with his left hand, Rodney’s right forms a fist that breaks Farhan’s nose with the first blow, loosens his teeth with the second, and knocks him out with the third. Even as Farhan is falling toward the ground, Rodney keeps throwing punches until he hears Jawahir yell at him to stop. Her yelling seems louder than the rest of the shouts from the park, which has erupted into a brawl, but the sounds of police sirens soon drown all other noise.