Teen Angel (16 page)

“Remember the day we had the party?” Sonny began.

“Who could forget?” D.B. said.

“I heard your old man ripped you apart,” Hansy said.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“From me,” the Gooch said, joining them. “Or is that just a beauty mark on your face?”

“Shit, and I heard you had killed yourself,” Sonny said. “As a matter of fact, my old man didn’t lay one finger on me. For your information. Anyway, where was I? Right, the day we had the party … That was Wednesday. Well, anyway I was walking home alone up Broadway. Well, this guy starts following me. Man, is he ugly. Looks like a big black wooly ape with shoulders from here to here.” Sonny demonstrated by stretching her arms all the way apart. “I don’t like the way this dude looks at all. Especially the way he looks at me.”

“He must be really
hard up
if he’s looking at you,” the Gooch said.

Sonny ignored her. “Yeah, and he’s got a
hard-on
that’s bulging out of his pants. And probably weighs as much as all of you people put together. And man, he’s dark. Why he’s darker than a nigger’s nostril viewed in a dungeon without windows at night.”

Everyone was beginning to get into it. Mary cracked her gum while Dot’s eyes looked like they might pop right out of her skull.

“I’m all alone,” she continued, “and I don’t know what to do. Even though I’m scared, I try to act nonchalant-like and ignore him. But he’s on my tail and whenever I cross the street he crosses it too. I go into Liggett’s to see if he’ll go away, but he follows me in there too. So I’m beginning to
get
real worried.”

“Weren’t there no cops around?” Marilyn asked.

Sonny thought for a moment. “That’s the whole thing. This dude
is
a cop.”

“Wow!” Several Teen Angels gasped. Coppers were always spoiling their act, making them return the pullovers they stuffed in their bags from Alexander’s and telling them to keep moving. So they hated them.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Sonny continued, her excitement mounting at her own story. “This guy is wearing a blue uniform with a gun on his belt and a billy club.”

“This sounds like another crock of Palovsky shit to me,” the Gooch said.

“If that’s what you think, you don’t have to listen, you know. I’m speaking truth, and here are the scars to prove it.” She lifted her skirt up to her buttocks and quickly dropped it.

“Anyway, I figure I can’t stay in Liggett’s forever. So I go back out and continue walking up Broadway. And sure enough, this dude is walking several feet behind me. I start walking faster and faster, but he keeps right up with me. Then I start running. So does he. God, I was terrified!” And Sonny was, as she told the story, goosebumps forming around her neck.

“What happened then?” Dot asked.

“Where was I again? Oh yeah. Well, I turn down my block, and so does he. I don’t know what to do. We pass another copper. I want to run over and tell him to protect me. But they nod to each other. Would you believe that? They’re all palsy-walsy. If I say anything, I’m liable to have both of them after my ass. So I just keep walking up my block. Then I decide to make a run for it. I run into my building and try to slam the front door. But he puts his foot in before I get a chance. God, I’m shitting bullets at this point! He pushes me inside and puts his hand over my mouth. ‘Keep your mouth shut, girlie,’ he says, ‘if you enjoy living.’ He drags me behind the stairs and throws me on the floor. I try to scream, but he raps me in the mouth. That’s when I got this mark on my chin?” Sonny showed everyone. “I even had to get four stitches at Medical Center. Well, he starts beating me with his
club. But then he gets this funny look on his face. He takes his belt off, sliding it out of the loops, and raises it above me. This is it. I know he’s going to rape me. And he begins to slap me with his belt. That’s where I got all those marks I showed you.”

“But I didn’t see anything,” Hansy repeated.

“Well, I can’t show it to you here.” Sonny looked around. D.B. looked a little skeptical but she was beginning to believe the story, as was, amazingly enough, the Gooch.

“So what happened?” the Gooch asked.

“Someone presses the elevator and I hear it go up. Maybe there’s still hope. The elevator comes back down and there are footsteps only a few feet from where I’m lying. I open my mouth and he lands his fist so hard I’m lucky I still have teeth. He keeps his hand over my mouth until the footsteps disappear. Then he releases his hand and I start screaming as loud as I can. ‘SAVE ME! SOMEONE! PLEASE!’ He shoves his hand over my mouth again. I’m trying to bite his hand but it’s like trying to bite through a steel beam. Meanwhile, he puts his hand under my skirt. He sticks it into my underwear and all of a sudden, he says, ‘What the fuck is this?’ A look of total disgust crosses his face. He picks up his belt, his club, and splits. Just like that. All he says is, ‘If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you. Do you hear me?’ Then he runs off.” Sonny closed her eyes.

“Why did he stop?” D.B. asked.

Sonny smiled. “Well, you see, it was the first day of my period. I was bleeding like Ronzoni Tomato Sauce. And I had a Modess on which was completely soaked through. When he stuck his hand in that puddle of blood, it totally grossed him out.”

“Wow,” Mary said. “You can never tell. And a copper too.”

“Yeah. I guess getting your thing can sometimes be good,” Hansy added.

“I bet your old man cut you up when you came home from the party and that’s how you got hurt,” the Gooch sneered. “No
copper’s gonna try anything with you. You probably don’t even have your period. You’re so full of shit this whole block is beginning to smell.”

“If you don’t like it, eat it,” Sonny said.

D.B. grabbed Sonny’s arm. “Let’s head for the Drive.”

Sonny looked down the street and saw her father’s green Dodge. “Duck!” she screamed. “THAT’S HIS CAR!” Everyone crouched down on their knees until it passed and made a turn on Audubon Avenue.

“How do you know that was his car?”

“I recognized his mug.”

“This is scary.”

“Yeah.”

“Suppose he’s looking for you.”

“God,” Mary said, shivering a little.

“I thought he was supposed to be a copper,” the Gooch said. “How come he’s driving a beat-up old Dodge?”

“It ain’t beat up,” Sonny said. “Besides, he’s probably off-duty.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here already,” D.B. said, pulling Sonny by the arm.

“Why’d you have to tell that story?” D.B. demanded as they walked down Broadway.

“It was a good story, wasn’t it?” Sonny asked. “I just about believed it myself.”

“That’s not the point. It was a fat lie.”

Sonny looked at D.B. “It wasn’t
exactly
a lie.”

“Was there anything true about it?”

“It felt true.”

‘Then it’s a fat lie. And I almost believed you, that is, until you got to the part about your period. Why’d you tell it?”

Sonny thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It just came out that way. But it’s better than what really happened.”

“Did your father beat the shit out of you?”

“Yeah. It was an accident though.”

“Accident, my ass. Sometimes I think I’m lucky my father died. But Ruth can get really mean too.”

“Anyway,” Sonny said, trying to change the subject.

“All that b.s. you throw around is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“But I tell you the truth, D.B.”

“Forget about it.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I said forget it. Let’s check out this softball game. Miguel and Ruben are playing against some crazy spades. They’re supposed to be in that field near the docks.”

“Shit,” Sonny said. “The last time I was there was about four years ago with this friend of mine. We were little kids and were on the swings. Well, this guy came over to us and opened his fly. We both got scared shitless and ran. Then he ran after us and, believe it or not, he had a tail with hair on the end of it swinging out of his pants.”

“Bullshit!” D.B. interrupted angrily. “The Gooch is right. Every word out of your mouth is a stinking lie!”

“No!” Sonny insisted. “This guy had this long fleshy tail with hair on the end of it. He ran after us and we just kept running as fast as we could, up all the stairs until we got to Broadway. It was the most horrible thing I ever saw. I haven’t been down there since.”

“Hey, you really got scared, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sonny continued. “He had a tail coming out of
there!
”

“Perverts! They’re everywhere. And they’ll stick anything into their pants. Ruth told me when she worked in a shoe store this guy came in and opened his pants. Do you know what he had there?”

“What?”

“Grapes. A bunch of green grapes,” D.B. said, shaking her head.

“What did Ruth do?”

“What she always did when a creep came into the shop. She picked up the hose from the vacuum cleaner and waved it at him, threatening to bash his head in if he didn’t split.”

“I know a shortcut through this building,” Sonny said.

They rang several bells in the lobby until someone rang back, entered, and walked to the elevator, which they took down to the basement. Then they walked through the laundry room and out the other end. There they followed the alleyway as it twisted and turned, avoiding garbage cans, broken sofas, and armchairs, until they came to another building’s laundry room, which they walked through and took the elevator from the basement to the first floor. They found themselves on Riverside Drive and 156th Street.

“That’s a great shortcut,” D.B. said. “I have to remember it.”

They crossed the Drive, past the cemetery which had the best sledding hill anywhere. Now they started down the two hundred or so steps to old Riverside Park. Sonny, with her spindly daddy-longlegs, took three steps at a time. D.B. leaped over two. In no time, they came to the concrete strip where the only thing that separated them from the Hudson was a wire-mesh fence. On the field, the game was already in progress.

Ruben was pitching. He had stripped to his shirt, a flaming orange, and was screaming in mixed English/Rican.

“THAT BALL WENT RIGHT OVER HOME PLATE! CAN I HELP IT IF YOU’RE BLIND, MAN! STRIKE THREE AND YOU’RE OUT.”

A wiry colored dude threw the bat down angrily.

“Hey, you guys!” D.B. called.

Miguel, at second base, squinted his eyes. D.B. waved to him.

Keith Douglas was at bat. He spit into the palms of his hand and rubbed them together. Then he picked up the bat.

“LOOK ALIVE!” Ruben shouted as he pitched the first ball to Keith, who stepped back and blasted the ball past second base. Miguel ran for it and caught it on a fly.

“THAT’S IT!” Ruben called. “Good catch, old man,” he said as Miguel walked past him. Ruben dropped his mitt and walked to home.

Sonny and D.B. sat several feet from home base. They carefully
arranged their skirts and crossed their legs. “Doesn’t Ruben look adorable?” Sonny whispered.

“MOVE BACK!” Ruben called. “Do you hear me?”

They moved back several feet.

“Move your asses!” he shouted. They scuttled back further.

Jesus Gonzales was first at bat. He was over six feet and had the most incredible case of acne. His face looked like it had pebbles pasted to it. He was in Miguel’s class. Jesus bent down over the base and stared at the pitcher, Keith Douglas.

The first ball went several feet above Jesus’ head but he swung for it anyway, on tiptoe.

“WHAT ARE YOU, A BALLET DANCER?” Ruben screamed. “WATCH THE BALL.”

“STRIKE ONE,” Keith said.

The next ball almost skimmed his elbow but Jesus leaned back and attempted to hit it anyway and missed.

“STRIKE TWO,” Keith called.

“GODDAMN TIME!” Ruben shouted as he ran over to Jesus. Then he whispered something into his ear. Jesus nodded.

This time, Keith sent him a fast ball that was intended to fracture his skull. Jesus took a step back and blasted the ball way past the outfielders’ heads. He ran the bases like he had sat on a campfire.

Sonny and D.B. applauded loudly as Jesus ran the bases. “GO MAN, GO. GO MAN, GO. WE’RE GONNA WIN, HO HO HO!”

“SHADDUP!” Ruben screamed. “Go on, Jesus!”

Jesus came home and now they were only five runs behind. Although this looked like a softball game, it was, in fact, a racial war. Niggers against Spies.
They
were supposed to be coordinated. All spies could do was chase las cucarachas with the taps on their shoes and their old ladies had crabs. Miguel was next at bat.

D.B. threw him a kiss and, for added inspiration, unbuttoned
the top of her blouse. Miguel gave Keith his mean, sly look, narrowing his eyes and jutting out his jaw.
Killer
. The first ball went right over home, past his keen, concentrated body.

“STRIKE ONE.”

Ruben kicked the grass with his foot and cursed.

Miguel screwed up every bit of his intelligence, knitting his eyebrows so hard that the top of his scalp looked like it might rip off. He swung for the second ball and fouled.

“STRIKE TWO.”

Miguel looked desperately from D.B. to Ruben, back to D.B. He let two more balls pass until Keith sent him the one he had been waiting for. It was a dream. It went straight to the tip of his bat. He hit it with all his strength and began to run past first base. He was going to make a double, maybe even a triple, when Laurence Williams caught the ball on second. Miguel tried to run back to first. Gigi Taylor caught it and tagged him out.

“ONE OUT.”

“THAT’S OKAY, THAT’S ALL RIGHT. WE’LL BEAT YOU BY TONIGHT!” Sonny put her arm around D.B. to comfort her.

Orlando Diaz was up. Ruben groaned. He was of medium height, but his body rippled with muscles. He bought all those muscle magazines and lifted weights. He wore only a white undershirt.

“WHAT YOU WAITING FOR? HUH, UNCLE TOMAS? LET’S HAVE IT, MAN. COME ON, BLACKY! HUH? HUH?” Orlando took swings at imaginary balls.

Keith hated Orlando because he was a racist. He sent him balls that seemed to head straight for his bat but just as he swung for them they took a sudden right curve.