waseyeballing her
twig leg. Twig leg muthafucker—his mama musta got fucked by a tree
. She’d laughed and laughed. He was Crystal’s half brother. Different moms, same daddy.
Don’t you fucking shoot me.
Come’re AnnMarie, come’re.
Don’t get water on my stuff, you get the frames wet, you buy ’em.
That’s some ugly shit right there.
AnnMarie shoved Jason who toppled from his bike, laughing.
Shut up. Now you got to buy one. You insult me like that.
Where Crystal at, Wallace said.
She with her mother. They left off to somewhere … AnnMarie paused, then said, I tell her you were asking though, Wallace.
And before she could blink, he’d pulled the trigger, sending a stream of water arcing through the air, smacking wet and cold against her skin. AnnMarie shrieked, laughing. He was nothing to look at but she knew why Crystal liked him. That boy opened his mouth to sing, his voice flowed like silk.
You been by to Teisha house, Raymel cut in.
Huh-uh.
They said they gonna cypher, I’ma bust a rhyme for you. Something new.
Word, I be there, AnnMarie said. But let me take y’alls picture. I give you a discount.
I ain’t got no money for a damn picture.
Come on now. A dolla each, I know you got a dolla.
So the boys rolled up their bikes, Raymel, Wallace and Jason all in a row.
Nah, nah, scoot in, scoot in, make like a V.
Raymel leaning an elbow on his knee, his patent leather Reebok slanted against the pedal, throwing up Blood
—blat, blat, blat
.
Stop moving Raymel. Hold your hands still.
Looking at her with his funny-shaped head, Wallace and Jason holding their super soakers like Uzis. She start to laugh, dropping the camera from her eye they look so silly.
Take the damn picture.
She took the picture and when the shutter clicked, something clicked like joy inside, this feeling like she springing out.
They rolled around some. Raymel pedaling and she held on, one hand on his waistband, a finger touching skin. AnnMarie packed up her things and hid the cart beneath the stairs. Then they all went down to Beach 9, got into a water fight with the super soakers and water bottles and cups they dug out the trash.
They went down to the shore. Took their shoes off, went in with shorts and tanks on, jumping waves and throwing seaweed at each other. Laughing.
On their way back across the sand, they saw it. Just a dark bulky shape at first, they was so far away. Didn’t look like bodies. But that’s what it was, two people humping in the sand underneath the boardwalk. The man’s body on top, pants down to his knees, his bare butt thrusting and clenching, their legs entwined, one of her breasts flopping and jiggling when he rose up and thrust.
Ooohhhh, what they doin’.
They fucking.
Oh, shit.
Laughing. Laughing.
Look at AnnMarie gaping.
I ain’t gaping. Shut up, stupid.
But AnnMarie had to pull her eyes away. Never seen nobody doing it before, not like that, kids making out, sure, but nothing like this. A long, low moan floated toward them and AnnMarie couldn’t help it. Her eyes flit back to the shadowy underside of the boardwalk just as the man clutched his shorts and rolled offa her, round breasts in full view, the small brown triangle glistening between her legs.
Four o’clock in the afternoon. It was hot. Even with the breeze coming off the sand. Pushing clouds high up there. Too hot to stand in the sun with no shade. No one wanted a picture. Icies melted to mush. The other boys had gone to the rec center. She’d wanted to go too but knew Blessed would ask how much she made, and expect a dollar or two. She turned and saw Raymel coming around again, pedaling slow up the boardwalk.
How’d you do?
She didn’t need to pull the bills from her pocket. She’d been keeping track.
Thirty-seven dollas, she said.
He dropped his bike and crossed to where she stood. He said, we could buy some weed wit’ that.
Huh-uh. This is for my back-to-school.
Why you need new clothes, you look good to
twig leg. Twig leg muthafucker—his mama musta got fucked by a tree
. She’d laughed and laughed. He was Crystal’s half brother. Different moms, same daddy.
Don’t you fucking shoot me.
Come’re AnnMarie, come’re.
Don’t get water on my stuff, you get the frames wet, you buy ’em.
That’s some ugly shit right there.
AnnMarie shoved Jason who toppled from his bike, laughing.
Shut up. Now you got to buy one. You insult me like that.
Where Crystal at, Wallace said.
She with her mother. They left off to somewhere … AnnMarie paused, then said, I tell her you were asking though, Wallace.
And before she could blink, he’d pulled the trigger, sending a stream of water arcing through the air, smacking wet and cold against her skin. AnnMarie shrieked, laughing. He was nothing to look at but she knew why Crystal liked him. That boy opened his mouth to sing, his voice flowed like silk.
You been by to Teisha house, Raymel cut in.
Huh-uh.
They said they gonna cypher, I’ma bust a rhyme for you. Something new.
Word, I be there, AnnMarie said. But let me take y’alls picture. I give you a discount.
I ain’t got no money for a damn picture.
Come on now. A dolla each, I know you got a dolla.
So the boys rolled up their bikes, Raymel, Wallace and Jason all in a row.
Nah, nah, scoot in, scoot in, make like a V.
Raymel leaning an elbow on his knee, his patent leather Reebok slanted against the pedal, throwing up Blood
—blat, blat, blat
.
Stop moving Raymel. Hold your hands still.
Looking at her with his funny-shaped head, Wallace and Jason holding their super soakers like Uzis. She start to laugh, dropping the camera from her eye they look so silly.
Take the damn picture.
She took the picture and when the shutter clicked, something clicked like joy inside, this feeling like she springing out.
They rolled around some. Raymel pedaling and she held on, one hand on his waistband, a finger touching skin. AnnMarie packed up her things and hid the cart beneath the stairs. Then they all went down to Beach 9, got into a water fight with the super soakers and water bottles and cups they dug out the trash.
They went down to the shore. Took their shoes off, went in with shorts and tanks on, jumping waves and throwing seaweed at each other. Laughing.
On their way back across the sand, they saw it. Just a dark bulky shape at first, they was so far away. Didn’t look like bodies. But that’s what it was, two people humping in the sand underneath the boardwalk. The man’s body on top, pants down to his knees, his bare butt thrusting and clenching, their legs entwined, one of her breasts flopping and jiggling when he rose up and thrust.
Ooohhhh, what they doin’.
They fucking.
Oh, shit.
Laughing. Laughing.
Look at AnnMarie gaping.
I ain’t gaping. Shut up, stupid.
But AnnMarie had to pull her eyes away. Never seen nobody doing it before, not like that, kids making out, sure, but nothing like this. A long, low moan floated toward them and AnnMarie couldn’t help it. Her eyes flit back to the shadowy underside of the boardwalk just as the man clutched his shorts and rolled offa her, round breasts in full view, the small brown triangle glistening between her legs.
Four o’clock in the afternoon. It was hot. Even with the breeze coming off the sand. Pushing clouds high up there. Too hot to stand in the sun with no shade. No one wanted a picture. Icies melted to mush. The other boys had gone to the rec center. She’d wanted to go too but knew Blessed would ask how much she made, and expect a dollar or two. She turned and saw Raymel coming around again, pedaling slow up the boardwalk.
How’d you do?
She didn’t need to pull the bills from her pocket. She’d been keeping track.
Thirty-seven dollas, she said.
He dropped his bike and crossed to where she stood. He said, we could buy some weed wit’ that.
Huh-uh. This is for my back-to-school.
Why you need new clothes, you look good to
Similar Books
Angel of Oblivion
Maja Haderlap
Crushed Velvet
Diane Vallere
Letter to My Daughter
Maya Angelou
Overwhelm Me
A. C. Marchman
2006 - Wildcat Moon
Babs Horton
Art of Murder
José Carlos Somoza
A Dangerous Climate
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
88 Killer
Oliver Stark
Five's Legacy
Pittacus Lore