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Authors: Kia DuPree

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BOOK: Damaged
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It was a quiet ride up to the gas station. We waited for thirty minutes to see if Jamal would show up before Ja’qui begged
Mr. Big to let us get something to eat from Subway. Jamal showed up a whole hour later, shivering and looking pissed off.
Mrs. Brinkley jumped out the car and hugged him. He hugged her back, even though it looked like it hurt him to do it. She
said something to him, and Jamal nodded, and then she walked him back to the car with her arm wrapped around his waist.

“You not getting back in this car until you apologize. I don’t care what your Mama said!” Mr. Big said.

Jamal sighed and said he was sorry.

“I’m the king of this nation, you hear me? What I say goes. Period. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Jamal said.

“Good,” Mr. Big said and turned back to look out the front window.

Jamal climbed in the back of the van and tried to warm up.

Mrs. Brinkley was so upset about all the chaos that she told Frank to just go back home. Mr. Big opened his mouth to say something,
but then he just shook his head and headed for the exit that said 95 North to Washington, D.C. It was a long hour and twenty
minutes back to Rhode Island Avenue.

Later that night when Mr. Big came in our room, he took a long while deciding which one of us he wanted. I closed my eyes
and prayed that it wasn’t my turn, but when he told Danica to switch beds with me, I knew God was ignoring my prayers. It
felt like Mr. Big was taking his frustrations out on me. He squirmed around in circles on top, pushing my legs open wider.
As he grunted and moaned, I wondered if Danica did what I did whenever he was down here with her. I always prayed that he
would hurry up and get out or that Mrs. Brinkley would walk in and catch him. Even though it never worked for me, I closed
my eyes again and gave God another chance to save me.

4

MAY 2004

D
anica had a little boy who looked exactly like Mr. Big, though she named him Ja’qui, Jr. That’s when Mrs. Brinkley threw her
clothes out on the street and made a phone call to Social Services with some lie that Danica had been stealing money from
her. My caseworker, Ms. Lewis, came to the house to check on me a little after that, but there was nothing to tell her, except
my best friend had been put out for no reason. All she had to say was, “Well, just make sure you don’t be stealing from the
Brinkleys, before they put you out, too.” I hated her after that.

I cried for a few days after Danica left. She was the only real person who I trusted. We never, ever talked about what Mr.
Big was doing to us. If anything, the secret we kept made us closer. She always covered for me whenever I forgot to do a chore,
or I would come up with a quick excuse whenever Danica came home late from school, even though her and Ja’qui was out spending
time together cuz Ja’qui had skipped football practice.

I knew that with her being gone now, Mrs. Brinkley would want me gone soon, too. I think the only reason Danica was really
gone was because Mr. Big ain’t want her there no more. He was done with her. I heard him call her “ruined” a few times when
he was in the room.

Lately, I had been thinking about running away—before I got ruined, too. I just ain’t know where to go. I mean, Mr. Big would
be all over me now. Only Jayson still lived at home, since Ja’qui and Jamal was in college out of town. Mrs. Brinkley was
still on a quiet rampage, looking at me from the corners of her eyes every other minute.

Jayson and I had gotten real, real close, especially after he told me he really hated playing football even though he was
good at it. He hung out in my room just about every chance he got, going through fashion websites and music magazines. In
the mornings before school, he even helped me pick out what hot outfit I should wear and I helped him, too. Jayson even walked
with me to school in the morning since it was on the way to his school.

Ever since I joined the Ebony Fire dance troupe, I always had practice after school, so I got home late. Mr. Big said as long
as my grades stayed good I could do any extracurricular activity I wanted. I did okay in school. I mean, I wasn’t on the honor
roll or anything, but I wasn’t failing, either. I wanted to join Ebony Fire as soon as I seen the girls dancing during a neighborhood
rec football game. They was the same girls who was popular. Everybody wanted to be them, and not the corny cheerleaders from
school. I was popular already, just from that one fight I had with Nissa back in elementary. I came real close to fighting
twice after that, but mostly my rep had everybody scared of me. Nobody never really tried me.

The only reason I ain’t try out for Ebony Fire at first was cuz Nissa was the captain. She had been the captain for two straight
years. But Danica knew how bad I wanted to be on the troupe, and one day after school she made me go over to their practice.
At first Nissa wasn’t trying to hear nothing about me joining up, but when I showed her how good I was at doing a split, she
said, “Okay,” even though she wore a stank attitude for days. We unofficially squashed our beef for the time being.

I was leaving practice with my girlfriend Shakira when this boy with this throwback Washington Bullets jersey said, “Hey,
shawty. The brown-skin one with those sexy-ass legs! Let me holla at you real quick.”

I blushed when I turned around and saw how fine that boy was, and he even called my legs sexy! Me? I could tell he was older
than me, at least sixteen, but he looked good. Real good. He had on some fresh white Air Force Ones with the blue check, and
he had long cornrows done up like Carmello Anthony. A caramel cutie, for sure. I was nervous, but then I thought,
What would Danica do?
No boy had ever tried to talk to me before.

“Girl, he’s cute as a mug,” Shakira said, giggling. “Ain’t that Chu from Montana Avenue?”

Shakira was the kind of girl who always knew everybody and everything. She swore she looked like the singer Ashanti, and she
did a little bit, but with big ole hazel gremlin eyes. Nah, for real, she was cute.

I slowed down so him and his friend could catch up with us. “I don’t know no Chu. Who is that?”

“You ’bout to find out,” Shakira said, smiling and shifting her bag with her practice clothes in it.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said before he lit a cigarette. “What’s your name?”

Shoot.
What would Danica do?
It ain’t like I could give him my phone number. Mr. Big would flip out if a boy ever called the house asking for me.

I smiled at him and said, “Camille. What’s your name?”

“Chu. You gotta boyfriend?”

I shook my head.

“You want one?” he asked.

I blushed.

“Um, excuse me,” Shakira interrupted, “I
am
standing right here. Damn.”

“Oh, my bad. This my boy, Rob.”

Rob nodded his head and took the cigarette from Chu. He was brown-skin, medium-sized, and had a little height to him, like
he was over six feet tall.

“This is…,” I said, before looking at Shakira to see if she wanted me to give her real name.

“KiKi,” she said, smiling at Rob.

“Y’all lying. That ain’t your name,” Chu said. “What’s up with that?”

“Naw, my real name is Shakira, but that’s my nickname.”

“Oh, okay,” Chu said. “How old are you, Camille?”

“I’ma be fifteen next month,” I lied. My birthday wasn’t until January, not June. “What about you?”

“Oh, you a young buck,” he said.

“Don’t sleep.” I heard the words I thought Danica would’ve said coming out of my mouth. I turned to walk away. “Come on, KiKi.”

“Wait up, sweetheart,” Chu said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back to him. “Let me get your number or something. You too
sexy for me to let you get away that easy.”

“Give me your number? I’ll call you when I can,” I said, holding his hand.

Rob laughed. “Man, these girls too damn young. I bet you she can’t even get no phone calls.”

Shakira pulled Rob’s arm, and they walked near the corner store while Chu gave me his number. I wrote it on the inside of
my D.C. government book.

“You goin’ call me, shawty?”

I nodded.

“All right. I’ma be waiting,” he said, walking over to Rob.

Shakira walked toward me, grinning from ear to ear, and then we hurried up across the street.

“Girl. Rob play basketball for Tech. His arm all muscular and shit. He’s a lil’ cutie!”

“He is, he is… but you gotta tell me about Chu,” I squealed.

“I don’t know much. Just that his brother Tep used to sell out Trinidad. You know, near Hechinger Mall? But his spot got raided
and him and like six dudes got locked up last year. But you know them niggas still got paper, and that Haitian dude, Smurf,
be still hooking Chu up with money and gear every now and then,” Shakira said. “Shoot, I’d hit. That boy fine, too.”

I looked at her and smiled, but she better not even think about it.

T
he next day Jayson sat in my room teasing me about the new hairstyle I was rocking. He said I looked like a brown Raggedy
Ann baby doll with my new micro-mini braids. I had a few blond streaks in the front, like all the girls in high school had
it, too. I blinked my fake lashes that made me look even more like Bambi. Hell, I knew I looked hot. Shoot, I’d even be jealous
of me, if I wasn’t me. I couldn’t wait until Chu saw it.

“Mama said it looks too grown, but whatever—I love it!” I said, looking in the mirror.

“Yeah, it looks all right. It accentuates your high cheekbones, your spindle neck, and your ethereal beauty,” Jayson said
in his fake British accent, trying to be funny. “I can’t believe Daddy ain’t say nothing about it yet.”

“He ain’t gonna care. Trust.”

“Let me grease your parts,” Jayson said. He picked up a few of my braids and pulled them away from my face real gentle-like,
cuz he knew they was still tight at the roots. “Hand me the Kemi Oil.”

I grabbed the oil off the dresser, but before I could give it to him, Mr. Big walked past the door and started going ballistic.

“I always knew you were a fuckin’ faggot!” he yelled, grabbing Jayson by the neck and pressing him up against my bedroom wall.
I never heard Mr. Big cuss before, and even as mad as he got, I never seen him that mad.

Tears was falling from Jayson’s eyes while he did his best to push Mr. Big off of him. But even though Jayson was just as
big as his father, he still was no competition. Mrs. Brinkley came running upstairs like the house was on fire, but she ain’t
do a thing to stop Mr. Big. She just stood in the doorway, rubbing the back of her neck and saying “Sweet Jesus” over and
over again.

“Daddy!” I begged. “Please stop!”

Jayson was gasping for air. He had quit fighting Mr. Big off, and his feet wasn’t touching the floor anymore.

“You’re killing him, Daddy! Mama, please!” I screamed. “Do something!”

I turned to Mrs. Brinkley, who looked like an animal caught in a trap. But she was shaking and squeezing her cross necklace.

“Please, Mama, you can’t let Daddy do this to him!” I yelled.

She paced the room, as if she ain’t know what to do. But me, my arms was in the air, then by my side, and then out in front
of me, reaching for Mr. Big. “I’ma go call the police if you don’t get off of him!” I yelled, pushing Mr. Big as hard as I
could.

Foam had started falling from the crack of Jayson’s mouth and I got real scared. “Get off of him!” I yelled, pushing Mr. Big
again. He ain’t even blink, so I jumped on his back and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Frraank, Frank. Let my son go!” Mrs. Brinkley yelled, like she just snapped out of it. “Let him go, Fraank!”

“Daddy, please!” I screamed. “He wasn’t doing nothing wrong.”

“Goddamn faggot!” he said before letting Jayson loose. Jayson gagged a few times, trying his best to catch his breath, and
then he hollered real loud before kicking the wall three times. He ran down the stairs and out the front door without looking
back. I ran behind him, and I ain’t care what trouble I might get in for leaving the house without permission. I just wanted
to check on my brother.

When I finally found Jayson down the street standing in front of the corner store, I ain’t know what to say. I ain’t know
if he was gay. I never asked him. Hell, I ain’t really care. I guess with Danica gone, I just felt like Jayson was taking
her place. All the questions I used to ask her, I just started asking him. He
got
me just like Danica did, and he was comfortable around me like I was around him. That’s all that I cared about.

Jayson was splitting a cigar open with his fingernails. I watched him let the middle stuff fall to the ground and then I followed
him as he walked away. We walked together without saying nothing to each other for a long time. We stopped in the big park
at the bottom of the hill. Right underneath a big tree, there was a broken-down bench with a piece of wood on the back part
missing. Jayson sat on top of it, with his feet on the seat, and I leaned against the tree. I ain’t notice until now that
his eyes was bloodshot. I shook my head, knowing Mr. Big made that happen to him.

Jayson took out a tiny plastic bag filled with light green grass and carefully evened it out on the cigar skin.

“What you about to do?” I finally asked.

“Roll up.”

“That’s weed?”

“Yep. We gonna get high, high, high, high,” he sang before licking and twisting the cigar. “You actin’ like you ain’t never
heard of weed before.”

I had heard of it like in rap songs and stuff, but I ain’t never seen it in real life. I mean, I saw the big leafy thing on
people’s T-shirts and on necklace charms and tattoos, but I ain’t never seen it look like that. It really did look like weeds.
Green ones. Except they was chopped up and stuck together with seeds in it.

“You wanna smoke some?”

“Am I gonna go crazy or anything like that?”

Jayson laughed and then he took a lighter and ran the flame along the sides of the cigar before lighting the tip and then
inhaling it deep until a big curl of smoke blew from his lips. The smell was different than anything I ever smelled before.
Not that it was a bad smell, it just ain’t smell like cigarettes or cigars. The scent was strong and thick. It seemed like
it was all over the park, in the trees, in the grass, and in the sky. After he pulled on it two more times, he passed it over
without even looking at me. I put the cigar up to my lips and tried to do like I saw him do, but I couldn’t make a long curl
of smoke like he did. My nostrils was burning something terrible, too.

BOOK: Damaged
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