I kick it near the water fountain with Big Will. We talk Ms. Pac-Man strategy, and I notice Mike not too far off looking at me with a little frown and mean eyes.
I give him a friendly nod and wave for him to come over, but he sucks his teeth and walks off.
“What’s up with Mike?” Big Will asks.
I shrug.
“He looks tight that you’re hanging with me.”
I look at Big Will like whoa, because that was my exact thought. “Well, he can be tight. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You should talk to him,” Big Will tells me.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Stop his mood from growing. Keep things cool with him.”
I look at Big Will with this feeling I’ve felt before: He’s different, good different. Because me trying to talk to Mike is opposite of how a lot of guys would handle this. Big Will sees things differently, and I think he’s right.
At lunchtime, I sit next to Mike.
“When we train-surfing again?” he asks.
“Whenever.” I want to train-surf but I feel two ways about it so I tell him, “I don’t want to cut school for it. And I don’t want to hop turnstiles.”
I just want that rush, that release, again.
He nods. “Sure. Let’s go Saturday. And it’ll be more fun if we bring someone else.”
“How about Big Will?”
“Nah.” He spits on the floor, sounding jealous.
“C’mon,” I say, “he’s diesel. Anyone looking for trouble with us in other neighborhoods will back off.”
“I just don’t like the idea of Big Will.”
“Why not?”
Mike shrugs. After a few seconds, he snaps his fingers. “I know exactly who to invite. This kid Kev.”
The next day after school Mike introduces me to Kev. But he calls him “Little Kevin.”
Mike points to me. “This is my brother Bryan.”
“I know,” says Little Kevin.
Little Kevin could not be more opposite of Big Will.
Big Will is in sixth grade, like me, but passes for an eighth grader. Little Kevin is in sixth grade too, but looks like a fourth grader.
Big Will’s hair has hair. Little Kevin? Does he even have eyebrows?
When Mike cracks a joke, Little Kevin laughs like Mike is the funniest person alive. If Mike stands a certain way, Little Kevin copycats him. It’s mad annoying and reminds me of me when I first thought Mike was the man.
Other ways that Big Will and Little Kevin are opposite: Big Will isn’t fazed by dip dudes rocking bling or pushing fat whips. When we talk and they roll by, Big Will’s eyes stay on me and he keeps up the conversation. Not Little Kevin. As me, him, and Mike talk, a real loud car drives up our block, blasting music and revving its motor. Yo, I swear, Mike and Little Kevin act like robots who had their same button pushed—they stop talking and become hypnotized by the car. And as soon as it disappears, they say the same thing. “That car was sick. Imagine that was ours.”
Little Kevin hits Mike with a list of questions. “What would your rims look like? Would they spin backward? And what about your windows? Tinted like that SUV? Or darker because that’s wavier?”
Ugh. Little Kevin’s voice comes out sounding as if he thinks Mike’s the biggest, smartest person ever and I sort of can’t stand it. Maybe because I know more about Mike now and know he’s not perfect.
Mike reacts to Little Kevin like Mike is some superstar, giving an autograph to a thirsty fan. He puts his hand on Little Kevin’s shoulder like Little Kevin is dumb and needs to be schooled. “Rims would be flavor but super-dark tints don’t matter. What you first need is an ill sound system.”
“Yeah but—” Little Kevin tries talking back.
“But nothing,” Mike interrupts him.
Little Kevin tries talking back again. “Yeah, but—”
“BUT you don’t know.” Mike shuts him down again.
I can tell Mike likes acting like he has all the answers and knows everything about everything.
Finally, Little Kevin gets it and changes the subject. “So you told me about train-surfing. When you going train-surfing next?” he asks.
“Soon,” Mike says, and gives Little Kevin that Steve Harvey fake-snake smile, which gives me a bad feeling about Little Kevin coming with us.