Saint And Sinners (36 page)

“Ugh….” He grimaced and moaned, head dizzy and full of clouds. His upper body stung
and the back of his head rang, then the pain spread all across his head like something
he’d never felt before—took over his entire skull and pounded behind his eye sockets.

He opened his eyes and looked up to the popcorn ceiling, then, soon after, the boys’
faces hovered over his as if he were on some gurney, about to lifted into an ambulance.

“What you doin’ on the floor, little fucka?” the cookie-faced one asked, a twisted
smirk on his expression before he burst out into a full belly laugh. Hassani could
see him more clearly now. He etched that bastard’s face in his mind at that pivotal
moment…

I’m going to remember you, and remember you well…

“What you lookin’ at, huh? Nah, I’m just playin’. Let me help you up.” The tallest
one reached for his arm, yanking him up so hard, Hassani thought the damn thing snap
would clean out the socket. Hassani yo-yoed as the boy jostled him to and fro, shaking
him like one of Isis’ baby dolls. Before he knew it, the other one was riffling through
his bag while his main moon-faced nemesis pushed his hands all through his jacket
and jeans pockets, frisking him like a suspect. The bastard bit into his bottom lip,
his expression smug.

“I dare you to say somethin’, you soft mothafucka…” he threatened while he continued
to invade Hassani’s person. “You had to try and be tough, drag this shit out. This
is my final time asking you. Where is the goddamn money?!”

Suddenly, he heard the sound of his book bag being kicked across the hall, a sound
like a mere gumball rolling down a driveway. He twisted his neck in that direction
to catch the other guy hovering over it. His brows knitted in angst as he held one
brand new pack of Crayola markers in one hand, and something else that Hassani couldn’t
quite make out in the other.

“Ain’t shit in here, man!” the boy whined. “All I found was a damn dollah!” The cookie-headed
boy waved it in the air like a deflated green balloon.

At that moment, Hassani felt so grateful his father had removed his games and iPad
from his bag. He’d argued with him all morning about the items, but his daddy wasn’t
trying to hear it. This sort of thing didn’t happen back home. What strange world
had he just entered?! His father had told him in no uncertain terms, with a finger
pointed in his face—he was there to learn, not to play around, and beyond that, he’d
said someone just might stick him for his stuff, so he better travel light. He felt
Dad was an annoying worrywart at times, always jumping down his throat and to conclusions
and now, he was made to swallow down the awful truth. Daddy was right …

“You owe us, mothafucka!” the bigger one barked. “You wasted our damn time! I want
twenty dollars from you tomorrow morning! Not a penny less, ya feel me?!”

“Or what? What chew gonna do, huh?!” Hassani didn’t know where he’d gotten the gumption,
but he had it and he gripped it tight. His insides had been reduced to hot sludge
as his mind and body danced with fear, but something deep within him wouldn’t allow
things to go down this way.

Daddy would stand up for himself. I’mma stand up for myself, too!

He had to defend his position, even if it meant half his teeth would be on the floor
soon after. He was fighting for his own damn self, so much so, he didn’t notice the
small crowd gathering around. Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed a boy dressed
in black from head to toe step forward. He had a strange presence about him, but he
didn’t pay him much attention until he heard the fellow stomp his Timberland-clad
foot, as if getting ready to go into a choreographed dance. Hassani caught his gaze,
and the two locked into one another as if they’d known each other from way back when.
A skinny toothpick swiveled out the side of the guy’s mouth, while people took a few
steps back from him, giving him all the room he could ever want.

Who is he? He must be somebody special…

He was bigger than most of the other kids looming around with candies wedged in between
their rapidly rotating jaws and their eyes focused on the matter at hand. It was cold
outside, regardless of the sun shining bright, but the son of a gun wore a long, black
tank top, as if it were summer in L.A. His black jacket hung over his slightly muscular
arm, his skin the color of Isis’—light gold with a natural sheen. He removed his black
New York Yankees ball cap from atop his head, causing dark spirals of shiny hair to
land across his shoulders. Then, he spun the hat around on his finger like a spinner
top and his bright, hazel eyes glistened like jewels.

“Fredrick!” the guy barked, causing Hassani’s two new enemies to back up against the
nearby mosaic wall. If fear had a smell, it must’ve been piss, because he was certain
the smaller one, the cookie-headed jerk, had tinkled a bit on himself.

“What tha fuck you doin’, man?” he asked easily, slick like…smooth and graceful all
at the same time. His words poured like ice flowing across a skating rink, but they
held punch, like a hockey puck going hard into the goal. Coated in a thick layer of
menace, with just a faint trace of a Spanish accent, the kind Hassani was accustomed
to hearing back home in L.A.

“We was just welcomin’ the new guy.” Frederick laughed nervously as he shifted from
one foot to another and shoved his grimy hand into his slouched jeans pocket.

The moon-faced boy didn’t look so tough anymore…

“No you weren’t, man. You were trying to shake ’im down. I come ova here to give Julio
his damn lunch—he forgot it again—and I walk up and see you young bucks bullying this
little ass boy. That’s fucked up.” The guy shot Hassani an all-knowing grin then winked
before turning back to Fredrick and his friend.

“This little cat can’t be more than nine years old, and you are what? Twelve? What
a fuckin’ disgrace! Yo’, don’t let me find you messing with him again. Get tha fuck
outta here!” The two bullies reared back and disappeared like smoke from a snuffed
candle, racing down the hall and not looking back.

What is going on here? What just happened?

Hassani couldn’t help but be in awe. The guy was so cool, laid back. He may have almost
been cooler than Dad. Nobody said one darn word as he stood there, commanding silence
by his mere presence. The crowd began to disperse as he clapped his hands, encouraging
people to go back from whence they came.

“You alright, little man?” he asked, placing his hand on Hassani’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I coulda handled it dough.” Hassani chin checked, feeling the
need to endorse his reputation. “I ain’t no punk.”

The guy burst out laughing, flicked his tongue out like a snake, then worked the toothpick
from side to side. Just then Hassani noticed a wad of pink gum in his mouth, too.

He can chew gum and a toothpick at the same time?

“Yeah, I’m sure you coulda.” The guy arched a black eyebrow and smirked. “Look, you
gotta be careful ’round here, okay? There are plenty more where
that
came from.” He pointed down the hall from where Fredrick and his little butt hair
friend had disappeared. “I take it you’re new.”

Hassani nodded.

“What grade are you in? Third or fourth?”

“…Third,” Hassani mumbled as he made his way to his book bag and retrieved it. His
heart beat a bit faster upon sight of all the scattered contents. He had a taste for
revenge, and he was damn sure going to get it. For that moment though, he concentrated
on the issue at hand, carefully placing all of his items back inside the bag.

Damn…they got my lunch money…

“You got lucky. Most people wouldn’t have stepped in to help. These mothafuckas are
scared of Fredrick. He can fight, ’specially for a sixth grader. They’d just watch
you get your little ass beat is all and then determine if they can take you on too,
get in on the action. Then before you know it, you’d be extorted for all ya damn money…end
up stealing from your own mama to keep from getting your lips busted. By the way,
my name is Angel Diaz.”

Hassani looked at the guy for a moment, studying him.

Why is he being so nice to me? What does he want?

He began to fill up with suspicion like a cup. Shaking the paranoid feelings away,
he picked the rest of his stuff up and huffed out a stiff response.

“My name is Hassani.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Aknaten.”

“Aknaten, huh? That’s a different last name. Never heard that before. What’s that?”

Hassani raised a brow in bewilderment. Angel laughed lightly and placed his hat back
on his head. Their conversation was cut short when the bell rang, slicing through
the pivotal moment. “Oh, never mind, man. You better hurry to your class before you’re
counted as late. I’d hate for that to happen on your first day. Look, I’m two floors
up. I’m in the eighth grade.” He pointed towards the ceiling as if it were heaven.
“My little brother, Julio, is in the fourth grade here. He is always forgettin’ something,
so,” he shrugged, “I’ve gotten to know some of the younger kids down here. Anyway,
I’m going to watch out for you, okay?”

Hassani grumbled and made his way to his classroom.

“You don’t have to do nothin’ like that. I can handle it.” He kept his back turned
as he walked, feeling a bit embarrassed and a whole lot angry about the entire incident.
When he heard the guy laugh lightly, he paused and looked at him from over his shoulder.

“Oh really?” Angel grinned, his sparkling white teeth seemingly a bit brighter than
before.

“Yes,
really
.” Hassani found himself growing rather annoyed at his newfound hero. Problem was,
he really didn’t want to be saved. Not because he didn’t need it, but now, he felt
like a darn fool.

Just ’cause he older don’t mean he better than me!

He hated that he admired the guy all the same, despite everything.

“Be easy, man.” Angel laughed as he casually zipped his jacket up. “Don’t get mad.
Look, I’m just tryna help. You betta wise up though. Ain’t no such thing as a coincidence,
son.”

That’s exactly what Mommy always says…

“I ain’t just wander over here out the damn blue, fall out the sky and land in front
of your classroom like Mary fuckin’ Poppins. Yeah, my little bro forgot his lunch,
but I still have that shit in my pocket, ain’t seen his ass yet because I stumbled
across some
real
shit. I know greatness when I see it.” He winked at him. “I’m tryna be on your team,
man.” He made the short jaunt up to Hassani and patted his back before turning and
walking away.

“What do you mean by that?” Hassani called out as the teacher approached him to usher
him inside the room. She placed her small hands around his shoulders, drawing him
towards her, but all he wanted to do was follow behind the heels of this unbelievable
person, the guy that had just saved him from further humiliation.

Angel stopped and turned back towards him. “We’re one and the same. You wavy, son!
Wait until you turn thirty-five, yo! You’re gonna be a baaaaad mothafucka!” He cackled,
waved and disappeared up the hall without another word…

*

“D
akarai had a
great day at school!” Xenia exclaimed as she bustled through the doors with Isis
in tow. “He about talked my ear off in the car.” She chuckled as she set his red book
bag and finger-paint art projects down on the kitchen counter along with a few bags
of groceries. Saint leaned back in his leather booth-like seat at the galley table
and ran his fingers across his forehead, slowly closing his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Xenia asked, the rustling of the brown paper bags finally settled
as her movements diminished.

“Daaaaddy!” Isis exclaimed, forcing him to look up once more through fatigued eyes.
The young girl raced towards him.

“Heeeey, princess,” he said wearily before he kissed her forehead, picked her up in
his arms, and rocked her against his chest. “Xenia, I’m glad Dakarai had a good day.
Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about Hassani. It was not pleasant, to say the
least.” He sighed as he reflected—not even his wife’s honey lemonade could make the
boy feel better.