spiceboy: some kid—waiting on the bus with his mother
sweetthing: makes me wanna cry
spiceboy: she was screaming and blood was everywhere
afroqueen: did he die?
spiceboy: I don’t know. I left.
cookieman: I hate blood
afroqueen: and killing
sweetthing: I hate cows
niobe: cows? why?
sweetthing: I live on a farm
spanishlover: what else do you hate?
becool: dead snakes. live ones are cool.
cookieman: peppermint toothpaste
oogaooga: homework. waste of time.
vanityfair: my mother
sweetthing: dirt, mud, and anything else that’s brown and stinky
afroqueen: commercials with athletes who sweat
spiceboy: crank phone calls
niobe: blue eye shadow
spanishlover: gangs
vanityfair: fights
becool: cops
cookieman: guns
sweetthing: bombs
afroqueen: death
niobe: We just read Hamlet in school. EVERYBODY dies.
becool: who cares?
oogaooga: Shakespeare is stupid.
afroqueen: it’s not so bad
spanishlover: you into Shakespeare?
cookieman: Shakespeare was a dude!
niobe: so was Charles Manson—what’s your point?
vanityfair: suppose Shakespeare was a woman?
sweetthing: maybe he was
becool: who cares!
bigmac: would we still have to read that stuff in school?
afroqueen: no—cause nobody paid any attention to women back then!
cookieman: nobody pays any attention now.
niobe: you do
cookieman: only for joy, babe—only for joy!
spanishlover: anybody here from Cincinnati?
bigmac: who would WANT to live there?
spanishlover: not me. I just got here and I hate it here
becool: where did you move from?
spanishlover: Texas
sweetthing: I went to Texas once. Too hot!
spanishlover: it’s not hot on the river where I lived
afroqueen: what about the Ohio River?
spanishlover: it’s ugly!
becool: so is your mama!
spanishlover: my mama uses your mama to clean her shoes!
afroqueen: what you got against the Ohio River?
spanishlover: like I said, it’s the ugliest river I’ve ever seen!
afroqueen: it’s winter, what do you expect? the river is muddy. What’s it supposed to look like? a blue crayon drawing?
spanishlover: it’s not just your river. I hate everything here. it’s cold and I want to go home.
afroqueen: you sound unhappy
spanishlover: depressed
bigmac: why don’t you two take it to a private chat room?
spanishlover: afroqueen?—see you there?
afroqueen: I’m with you—
8.
Private Chat Room Conversation
Dear Afroqueen:
I’m from Texas. Do chat rooms get on your nerves? There’s so much junk! Nobody really says anything, just little one-liners that mean nothing.
Hey, Spanishlover:
Yeah, they annoy me. Some are better than others. I’ve been in some where we really talked about stuff. So what’s so great about Texas?
The Nueces River flows proud and beautiful all year. As does the Rio Grande. It’s wide and powerful, and I really miss it. And it never gets cold there like it does here. Does the river ever freeze?
I’ve never seen the river freeze, and I’ve lived here all my life. But I’ve heard that it has frozen before. Boats get stuck right in the middle. I’ve never seen any other river, though. I figured they all looked the same—kinda wet.
No, there is a difference. Some rivers are heavy and slow, others are cheerful and lively. Just like people.
So are you a deep river or a stagnant stream?
I’m an ocean. I’m real deep. What about you?
Me? I’m a lake. I got edges, but I also have ripples and possibilities. Now, cut all this, and tell me about you really.
Like I said, I’m from Texas. I like Tejano music, refried beans, and guacamole. But I also like pizza, German chocolate cake, and sauerkraut.
Remind me never to have dinner with you. Do you eat the sauerkraut on the pizza or with the German chocolate cake?
Both! Let’s see, what else can I tell you about me? I like to sail and I’m a good swimmer. I can play two different instruments and I speak two languages. I hate TV talk shows and stupid billboards. Now, your turn.
Me? I’m one of the only girls in our class who uses the Internet and talks to people on-line. I like to read, and write poetry, and go to dances, but I also play basketball and soccer. You can sail and swim? I really admire that. I never learned to swim.
I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t swim. Swimming is like breathing. How can you not know how to swim?
Cause when you’re swimming, you can’t breathe! I’ve taken lessons since I was three. Couldn’t do it. I’m just plain terrified of the water. But I know I’ll never drown, unless it’s in the bathtub, because I never intend to get close enough to any water that’s deeper than that!
I am afraid of being alone, of being abandoned.
I guess most kids feel that. Have you ever been left alone?
No, not even been lost in a grocery store. But fear doesn’t make much sense. It is just something you know and respect. Your fear of the water will make you strong.
Maybe, but sometimes my fear takes over. I have bad dreams. Actually, I’ve been having this one really terrifying dream ….
What kind of dream?
Never mind. Can you speak Spanish?
Sí. Of course. My whole family is from Mexico. What about you?
I’m taking French II, but I’d be afraid to go to France with what I know. You know what else I like to eat? French croissants, and grape jelly. Also Cincinnati chili, but not with grape jelly on it! Have you ever tried any of the chili?
No, I haven’t had a chance to try Cincinnati chili, with or without jelly. But unless it’s hot and spicy, I probably won’t like it. My mother uses hot sauce on everything. Now I can’t eat a meal without it!
Hot sauce. Yuck. And you had such potential. I bet you like carbonated pop too, don’t you? I like mild things—like fresh fruit juice instead of soda pop, and warm gravy instead of hot sauce (except on oatmeal—that gets warm milk, not warm gravy!).
What about music? What’s your favorite?
Well, I listen to rock and rap and R&B, but believe it or not, I like classical music sometimes too. It helps me write poetry and relaxes me when I can’t sleep. I don’t tell many people this. You know my favorite? Mandolin music. I discovered it late one night when I was listening to the radio, feeling moody and blue. It was beautiful.
You’re not going to believe this, but I play the mandolin! My grandfather taught me when I was a little boy. And you’re right. It’s a beautiful sound. But I also play the saxophone. I like the music, but there’s not much call for mandolins in the school marching band, not even in Texas.
Give me a break! Nobody plays the mandolin, at least not on purpose! Wow, that’s awesome! Hey, I’ve got to get off of this computer and help my mom with the dishes. Sign on tomorrow at four. Let’s talk again. This was cool! Peaceout—Afroqueen
I’ll be there! Talk to you then. Peaceout—Spanishlover
9.
Destiny and Romiette
“Girl, that was the best movie I ever saw!” Destiny sighed as the final credits rolled off the screen. She was dabbing her eyes with the edge of the blanket on Romiette’s bed. “Rewind it to the part where she has to decide if she’s gonna stay with her soul mate, who she loves like hot fire, or her crippled husband, who has loved her with pure, sweet trust since childhood. Ah! The ago
ny of true love!”
“You say that after every love story we rent, Destiny. And get a tissue! You’re always crying on my blankets.” Romiette hit the remote to rewind the tape, and turned on the lights.
“That’s because I’m an expert on love, Romi. I understand the pain of passion.”
“You’ve never even had a boyfriend, except for Jerome in the seventh grade. How do you know so much?” Romi laughed.
“Imagination, girlfriend! I read. I dream. I will know him when he walks through the door.” Destiny was walking dramatically across the bedroom just as the downstairs doorbell rang.
“There’s the doorbell. It’s the pizza. Why don’t you answer the door, Destiny, just in case the pizza boy is your secret soul mate.” Romi grinned and gave Destiny half the pizza money.
“You got me bent! I’ve seen the pizza boy. Not a chance!” Destiny ran downstairs to get the pizza, their usual of pineapple and peppers, and returned with the large square box and a soda from Romi’s refrigerator. The smell of the warm cheese, spicy sauce, and soft bread filled the room.
“Did the soul mate package come yet, Destiny?” Romi asked between bites.
“No, but I have faith. It’ll be here by next weekend. We gotta get a life, Romi. How am I going to get a date for the prom if I spend every weekend looking at videos with you? We need new blood!”
“Speaking of new blood, I met a guy a couple of days ago.” Romi waited for a pillow to be tossed at her.
Destiny screamed, “And you’re just now telling me? Girl, spill it! I told you my cards said you were going to meet a new man. And you weren’t even looking! What does he look like? Is he fine?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never seen him.” Romi grinned.
“You talkin’ crazy. How did you meet him if you’ve never seen him?” asked Destiny.
“I’ve only talked to him on the Internet.” Romi waited for Destiny’s reaction.
Destiny jumped on the bed and dropped her pizza on the floor. “You met a man on the computer? Girl, that’s where serial killers and rapists be hanging out. They make you think they’re OK, then they make plans to meet you, then you end up with your picture on the back of a milk carton!”
Romi laughed and picked up the fallen pizza. “He wasn’t like that. I don’t think he was one of those perverts. He sounded really nice. He seemed real.”
“You didn’t do anything stupid like give him your real name or something, did you?” Destiny was not going to be convinced so easily. She figured Romi had lost her mind.
“No, of course not. I’m not stupid. But he did seem really sincere.”
Destiny spent quite a bit of time on the Internet herself. It was her opinion that the whole Web was full of freaks waiting to find her and attack. “You better be careful, girl. Those sex stalkers on the Internet know exactly what to say to make you think they’re the same age as you are. Did he say anything about sex or freaky stuff?”
“No, not at all. But, now that you mention it, his screen name is Spanishlover.” Romi was enjoying Destiny’s reaction.
“Oh, no! You’re gonna get raped and mutilated, and I don’t have a thing to wear to your funeral!” Destiny was on the floor, rolling around in fake despair.
Romi laughed. “Calm down, Destiny. All he talked about was Texas and music and ideas. He was really fun to talk to. Not like the rest of them who just want to know your shoe size or breast size.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Tell him what?”
“Your shoe size and your breast size!”
“I told you, he didn’t ask. The subject never came up.”
Destiny was not to be put off so easily. “Don’t you dare tell him your name, or anything about you, you hear?”
“I hear you. I won’t. But he did say that he lived here in Cincinnati.”
“That could just be a cover! Did you tell him where you lived?”
“No, of course not.”
They got out the second movie and as they put it in the VCR, Destiny was still voicing her concerns about the Internet mystery man. “You know, Romi, those kinds of people can trace you. They have secret codes they put in the computer and then they figure out where your phone line is hooked up and then they come to your house and ring your doorbell and slice your heart out after they have sex with you!”
“Destiny, does your brain ever hurt from all the wild imagining you do?”
“I’m for real, Romi! I didn’t make this up. I saw it on TV. You be careful, Romi. Stay away from that guy.”
“I’m supposed to talk to him tomorrow after school,” Romi said quietly.
“Not a great idea. Anybody with a screen name like Spanishlover is up to no good. I saw a talk show where this one man was giving these girls this drug called Spanish fly. He would drug them, and they wouldn’t know if the man was having sex with them or not, and he got them all pregnant.”
“Destiny, I think you have sex on your brain. I didn’t take any drug from him or have sex with him through the computer screen. I didn’t let him know anything about me. All I did was talk to him in a private chat room.”
“You went to a private room? I saw another talk show where they used these private chat rooms to bug the phone lines of the people they lured into them. Then they stole their identities and charged up millions of dollars on their credit cards.”
“Destiny, you watch too many talk shows! And I don’t have a credit card. So I’m safe for now. But I will be careful. I promise.”
“Hey, Romi, I have a really serious question for you. This is a deep philosophical question.”
“Here we go again. Hit me with it.”
“Pizza is round, right?”
“Right.”
“And garbage cans are round, right?”
“Right.”
“So why are pizza boxes square?”
“Eat your pizza, Destiny.”
“Romi?”
“I’m almost afraid to answer.”
“The pieces are triangles. Why?”
“Eat your pizza, Destiny. Don’t think.”
10.
At School
Julio glanced at his watch and darted into the bathroom. He figured he had just enough time to make a pit stop before his last class’s bell. He didn’t even notice the boy dressed in a purple hooded sweatshirt that hung down to his knees. He was followed by four kids dressed exactly the same. They walked slowly, methodically, forming a tight circle around Julio. A toilet flushed. The boy in the stall, a scrawny kid who looked like he’d been flushed before, took one look at the scene in front of him and ran out of there before he had pulled his pants up completely.
“Hey, Chico!”
Julio tightened his jaw and tensed his fists. “My name’s not Chico.”
“Got something for you, Chico.” The boys in purple tightened the circle around Julio.
Julio’s fear was turning to anger. “My name is not Chico! And you better not get any closer.”
They backed away one step, in unison. “Got a message for you. We don’t want you here. Got that?”
Julio stepped forward, into the face of the tallest purple threat. “What do you mean? What did I ever do to you? And who is this ‘we’ you talking about?”
The tall boy looked coolly into Julio’s eyes and showed no fear, only challenge. “You see purple—you get out the way. The Family ain’t happy about you being here. We know you from that Texas Tejano gang. You ain’t welcome here.”
“I don’t remember asking you for the welcome wagon! Just stay out of my way or I’ll show what Texas Tejano really means!”
“We don’t need no wetbacks movin’ in here takin’ over our territory! We own this area.”
“You wouldn’t know a wetback if it was dripping on your own yellow back!”
“Watch your mouth, Chico. Or it might get busted.”
Julio decided he wasn’t going to take any more. “I tell you what,” Julio said slowly and clearly
. “Why don’t you stay out of my way instead? I don’t want to have to tighten you up, but I ain’t scared of you, or purple, or The Family. Now move out of my way!”
The figures in the purple circle took one step toward him, stared him down with eyes of hate, then abruptly turned as one and walked out of the bathroom. Julio stood there alone, shaking and angry, in that silent bathroom that smelled of urine and cigarette smoke. They thought he was from one of those Texas gangs he had been running from! Unbelievable! He knew they would only threaten for a while. Then the threats would turn to fists, or knives, or worse. But they wouldn’t attack him—not yet. They weren’t really sure if he was from that gang, but this was their way of checking him out. They didn’t really need a reason to dislike him. They had already decided that.
Julio had started to relax and settle into the new school. His classes were bearable, Ben was a friend who could always make him laugh, and he spent his spare time playing on the computer. A couple of times he had talked to this one girl he thought was from Cincinnati, but who knew. Ben said everybody lied on the Internet. She seemed like somebody he might like to get to know. But he hadn’t been able to find her on-line lately. The last time he had talked to her, she said her friend had warned her about Internet perverts, so she didn’t feel real comfortable talking to him, then she had signed off quickly.
So now I’m a gang member. And a pervert. Julio sighed as he walked down the hall to class. He was really late, but last bell was band, and he knew Mr. Barnes would understand.
Those gang kids, mused Julio, separated me right away as different—as Hispanic—as Latino. I wonder what the other kids here see when they see me? I’m tall and thin, but I can take care of myself. I’ve heard girls giggle behind my back, saying stuff like, “Oh, girl, he is fine!” but nobody’s ever told me to my face—yet. My mother thinks I have a nice smile. But mothers are supposed to like you, aren’t they?
Julio walked slowly down the dark, trash-cluttered hallway to class. He did not turn around to check for shades of purple behind him.
11.
Phone Calls—Julio/Diego/Ben
The phone rang, and Julio picked it up as he clicked the thermostat up another notch. He was freezing cold, and the snow outside the window made him shiver with anger as well as the cold.