Life Is Funny (11 page)

“Are you okay?” he goes, and he hugs me hard. When he finally lets go, Molly's walking up, holding Caitlin by the hand.

“Hi,” Molly says.

Caitlin is staring at me. “There's a baby in your stomach?”

“Yeah,” I say. Caitlin is so small. Her whole face is the size of my palm, practically. I'm going to have one of her soon. God damn it.

“I'm Molly,” Molly says to Hector, who looks confused.

“That's my sister,” I tell him.

“I'm Caitlin,” Caitlin says. “Molly's my baby-sitter, and we took two trains and a bus to get here, and there were men saying bad words to us on the bus. Do you want to hear what they were saying?”

“No,” Molly tells her. “I told you.”

“I wanted you two to meet each other,” I mumble to Hector.

“Did she tell you what happened?” he asks Molly, after a minute.

“I don't think so,” she says, crossing her arms and glaring at me.

“She stepped to me last week. Almost knocked me right on my butt.”

“That's none of her business,” I tell him.

Molly puffs hair away from her forehead and glares at me some more.

“Why are your eyes like that?” Caitlin asks Hector. “Molly, why are his eyes like that?” He kneels so she can see his face better, but otherwise he ignores her.

“Did you knock her back?” Molly asks him.

“Molly!” I go, loud.

“I don't play that,” he says, looking up at me as if I actually matter. “She lays a hand on me like that again, and we're over. I mean it.”

Molly looks impressed. So does Caitlin. “They're like little snowballs,” she whispers. “How did you do that?”

“Why do you like her?” Molly asks Hector, trying to pull Caitlin off him.

Caitlin shakes Molly away, puts a teeny hand on each of Hector's cheeks, and moves her face as close to his as she can. Their noses bump while she examines his eyes.

“Because,” Hector answers Molly, as though that explains everything.

*  *  *

So many things happen before we're even alone in a room together. Hector makes me talk to Ms. Crosky about that other high school. He signs us up for a childbirth class that won't start for four more months. He meets my mother on a Sunday morning and watches her count marbles. “Why do you do that?” he asks her, very politely. “You never can tell,” she says. I piss in the bed twice more and don't talk to him about it and don't change my sheets either. We rent that movie about Greenland and watch it with Molly in her dorm room on a borrowed VCR. We eat a lot of pizza, and I try to pick a lot of fights. Sometimes he gets mad at me and has to walk away to cool off, and when he comes back, he makes me listen to him without swearing, interrupting, or rolling my eyes.

It's very hard.

*  *  *

We start off by lying down with our clothes on, stomach to stomach, hugging. He curves himself around the baby bulge and pets my head. I'm already crying, and then I start swearing.

“God damn it, you better not fuck with me, you prick. You better not, or I'll stab you a million times with a dull knife and send the pieces to your mother.”

“You don't have to do that,” he whispers. “You know you don't have to do that.”

“I'm so disgusting,” I try to argue, but his hands and his voice and his marble mother's eyes won't let it be true anymore.

“No,” he says. “You're beautiful.”

Eric

Mickey

Molly

Monique

Linnette

Hector

Caitlin

Jackson

ME AND MS. Hudson was hate at first sight. She always be staring at me like I'm gonna smoke her or some shit. She a English teacher, a white bitch who don't even know I got two thoughts in my head. She be teaching mad boring shit and acting all like she a gift to God. She tell kids get out her room if they be messing, she tell kids who they think they is with they mouth so bad. She give you a A right in the start and then be taking away all kind of numbers on your grade if you don't be doing homework or be raising your hand and kissing booty. She do a paper, look like you could buy on the corner, with bunch of Herbs writing mad boring stories and shit 'bout the school, then they get numbers put to they grade and they back up to a A. Fucking Herbs man, suck they grandma's pussy for a A.

I ain't got a A my whole life. Special ed left my ass back two times. I be lucky they let me go to ninth grade next year. Only reason I be coming to this shit anyway for Mickey. Mickey seven, but he real smart and he maybe could turn something right if he grow up. I be all set to quit, I be cutting to go with Franklin Avenue, smoking weed and lifting watches from Super Mart, then Mickey starts nerving me all these questions like he motherfucking   
Jeopardy.
He say, what make the TV get the pictures? What make it go fuzzy? Where water come from? Why Mama like putting a needle in her? 'Bout to kill me with all that 'cause I got to answer him every one, and answering whack questions make you tired. But that Mickey, man, he something else. He fix me Campbell chicken dumpling soups every night, fix up a blunt for me real good when I tell him, he don't never pee my side the bed. He tell all the little bugs he see at school he don't need no daddy 'cause he gots me.

Ms. Hudson can suck my wad, she want, but I got to stay awhile 'cause if I get slammed, all they gonna find be my moms, nodding on Fourth Avenue or fucking some dick promising a white Christmas, then what they going to do with Mickey? They put him in some goddamn house in Queens, they got all kind of other kids beat the shit out of him, mess him, make him fuck they cat. Ms. Hudson want me to shit on her so she could fix me to leave, but I not going nowhere. 'Cause I not at school, I be on Fourth selling shit, lifting shit. School safer. Nobody don't fuck with me 'cause I got fifteen in a month, and I be big. Teachers mostly leave me 'cause I stop messing them. Only that bitch want me out 'cause she think I ain't got two thoughts in my head.

Not so bad, 'specially since Mickey say he want to write words for my pictures, 'cause he like writing and he do it real fine. Every day I takes me paper from some Herb, takes me a pencil, I sits in the back every class, I draws me shit for Mickey. He like all that whack little bug stuff. He like spaceships, he like dinosaurs, he like guns and monsters and Ninja Turtles. He make up mad bad stories and put 'em next to my pictures and we makes us Mickey and Eric comics. He like this basketball dude I drawed, Jordan and Rodman mixed in, and I drawed wings on the dude's legs, so he this superhero or some shit, and Mickey went dope with this dude. Mickey calls the dude Jordman and he make Jordman be all a hero every story. Mickey like those hero types, so I draws all kind of pictures of Jordman doing hero dos, saving little bugs and smoking motherfucker teachers and all kind of good shit. Mickey, he love the shit. He never get tired of making his words to my pictures. He keeps 'em all straight in a notebook I lifted him from Super Mart. He keep that notebook real careful in the place under the bathroom sink.

Mickey be a bad little motherfucker, he say my name before my moms', which my moms didn't even knowed 'cause she got that pipe or that needle up her ass so deep she don't know nothing. She always with the stick, ever since I be small, but she add the pipe after Mickey got two and Mickey's daddy shot by a cop for some shit. Mickey and me got to lift cheese puffs and beers and fruit rolls and chicken dumpling soups 'cause she never keep her check. I lift diapers for Mickey, too, 'cause he not so good at holding his water all the time. He cry pitiful when he mess up, but I don't yell at him none.

So I all quiet in the back Ms. Hudson's class and she start talking 'bout some kind of 'signment, and I be noticing, the kids, 'stead of picking they noses, they laughing and nerving her all kind of questions. She telling how we got to write a essay 'bout what we likes in a date. What she mean is, what we likes to fuck, but she don't say fuck, she say date, and everybody be laughing. She say we write what we wants but we got to use real words for “fuck” and “tit” and all that, she fail any motherfucker who write bad words. She give us the whole period, and we got to start now. Me, I don't write good, I don't like to write no 'signments, can't remember last one I writes for nobody. But I be kind of tired of Jordman today, and I been thinking how I'm gonna help Mickey if he get older if I not practice the shit some. Sos I write. 'Fore I knowed it, I write three pages and the bell not even go yet. Here's what I be writing.

*  *  *

First thing you got to have in a female is looks. She got to be fine. This what fine mean. Female can be any color but not white. But her color got to be smooth all everywheres, smooth like the color part your eye. Female got to be tall to my eyebrow. She got to be skinny in the middle and big butt and big chest. But her chest got to be small enough my hand get around each chest, no problems. Butt got to fit her legs right, and her legs got to be big. She got any kind of hair she want. She have good hair, okay, she got bad hair, okay. She got braids, she got extensions, she got color, whatever. It all okay but she can't have no shells. She got to have big eyes, her eyes and her nose and her mouth all got to fit right, she got to have white teeths. I like it when the two front teeths not all the way together. She be extra fine, she got two front teeths a little bits apart. She got to have nice breath, and she got to keep herself clean. That a fine female.

Next thing, she got to be fine on the inside. This what fine on the inside mean. She not doing no drugs. She not even drink beers. But she not no Herb. She just got a brain. She smart, but she don't act smart. She stay in school, she make Bs and Cs and sometimes As, but she not in your face. She like a good time. She like making love, but she only like it with her man. She not making love with all everybody. She don't want to have no babies until she finish high school. But she take care of it. She don't make you wear no hat. She listen what you got to say, and she don't mind you don't feel like saying nothing. She like going to the movie, she like dancing, she like hanging out. Maybe she got a little sister she like. She got a moms and a daddy living at home and she like chicken dumpling soups. She like me.

*  *  *

I looks up when I done, and Ms. Bitch all in my face from all over at her desk. The bell ring. She still on my shit. I crumples up her fucking 'signment, leaves it on the floor. Ms. Hudson can suck my wad, all I care.

*  *  *

My moms at home, all skinny. She trying to sleep. She in the bed.

“Why Mama can't be still?” Mickey be asking me. He like watching her sleeping when she home. He think she funny.

“She catch a nightmare,” I tell him.

“Where she at when she catch a nightmare?” Mickey say. “She at the nightmare or she here?”

I don't even knowed what he mean, half the questions he nerving on me.

“I don't know,” I say. “Make me up a blunt.”

“You all out,” he tell me. If I want more, I got to go Franklin Avenue. I got to lift me some shit, hang with the crew. I be tired.

“Mama got some,” Mickey tell me. “She got two blunts already done. They in her coat.” He bring me 'em. They not fixed up real good, but they do all right.

“When I can have some?” Mickey ask me.

“Not never,” I tell him.

We watch my moms. We both hoping she wake up and leave 'fore we tired, 'cause there ain't no other bed.

*  *  *

The bitch tell me I got to stay after class today.

“I didn't do nothing,” I say. I makes my face get small. It scare white people when you makes your face get small. But she don't look scared. The bitch laughing at me. She laughing at me the whole class. I can't draw, all that laughing she doing. I try to draw Jordman beating her head on a car, but I be messing up. Then she be reading shit in class. She do that other days, but I never be listening. This time she only read one thing. I listen real good, 'cause she be reading my 'signment. I sees it all wrinkled. She picked it up on me and looked. She be reading it out loud, and everybody be listening. When she done she say it be an A except grammar so bad. She give it a C. She say it the best one in the whole class anyway. She don't say my names. Don't nobody knowed it mine.

“Why you do that?” I be asking her after she make me stay.

She show me my 'signment. It got Jordman and some shit and a fine girl drawed all long the sides. She tell me I draw good. She ask me 'bout drawing.

“They for my brother,” I be saying. My heart beating mad fast. I be kind of nervous. “He like saying stories to 'em.”

She ask me 'bout Mickey. She ask me what I want to do my life. She talking like she not be hating me no more.

“What you doing?” I say. I be mad. Real mad. She trying to trick me. “Why you picking on me?”

“I'm not picking on you, Eric,” she say, real soft. “I'm interested in you.” What that mean?

“I always thought you were busy back there,” she say. She point to back the room. “I'm glad I finally found out what it was you were doing.”

“I ain't dumb,” I tell her. She think I be dumb.

“Of course you're not dumb,” she say. “But if we don't do something about your schoolwork, everyone's going to think you are dumb, and that's worse than being dumb.”

I think I be dreaming. I be in here, catching a dream, or I be in bed, Mickey next by? Teacher be telling me, do I want stay after school, get extra help so nobody think I'm dumb no more. Teacher be telling me I can bring Mickey, if he needs come, too. Teacher tell me think 'bout it, tell her anytime. Teacher tell me she hope I meet that fine girl I writes about. That bitch, she done tricked me all year. Made me think she waiting on me to smoke her.