Status: Complete.
Trying to Fit
And I do.
Giovanni's Point of View
I spent my whole life trying to fit in. I wondered why my parents wanted me and my brother to go to a “good” school so bad they moved us from our childhood home in busy Rockville to quiet, lily-white Tuckerson. We only ended up living there for three years, until my dad got laid off and we found out that Tuckerson didn't offer the same kind of emergency financial assistance that Rockville was laden with. So we moved back.
At the time, I was happy. I'd hated being removed from somewhere I'd lived my entire life, where I'd grown up. When we moved back, I was thirteen. My brother was fifteen, just about to start high school at broke-down Rockville High. We both quickly found out what we'd missed in the past three years.
Gang initiations.
All of our friends had either joined the Latin Kings or MS13. Since we were Mexican, we had a choose. My brother chose the Latin Kings so I did too. Between rolling up behind the school during classes and partying with my boys on the weekend, it seemed as if I was finally fitting in.
And then it happened.
“'Ey, Gio! I'm heading out, man. Ma said she'd be back about ten. Left some money on the counter for you.”
I hear Miguel yell and jump awake. Groaning, I stumble out of our bedroom to where I assumed he is at our front door.
He eyes me cautiously. “I keep telling you not to drink so much, hombre.”
I laugh at him and plop down on the sofa. Before I can flick on the T.V., Miguel snatches the remote from my hand.
“I'm serious, hermano. You're not even sixteen yet and you already look like you need AA.”
I scoff. “Whatever.”
He grabs my ear harshly and I push him off.
“I'm just trying to make sure you make it to sixteen, bro. Stop trying to be such a bad-ass. A'right?”
I lean back on the couch, not answering, and flick on the T.V.
Miguel sighs. I hear him walk toward the door and step out. The screen door bangs closed loudly behind him. I wish Dad were here to fix that.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I freeze. It's not like it's unusual to hear gunshots around here, but I don't think I've ever heard them that close. I may be part of the Latin Kings, but I don't really do dirty work. That's more Miguel's area of expertize.
Ever since Dad died last year, Miguel's had to turn to the streets for a source of income to help Ma. But it seems like the more she works, the more he's out, and I'm just here by myself, but it's whatever.
I jump up when I hear a car speeding away. Drive-bys are the MS's calling card around here when it comes to getting rid of competition. And I know my brother's friend Ronny's been selling rock, so there's a good chance they just took him out.
I open the screen door and everything starts to slow down. The door's hard to open because something's pressed against it, but I push it hard enough and slip through the crack that's made.
That's when I see the blood. My eyes start to water and my heart starts to pound. I'm stepping in blood and the only way that's possible is if whoever got shot was right outside my door.
I look up. His hazel eyes are staring back at me and he's gasping, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible in the limited amount of time he has left. In the limited amount of time my brother has left to live.
He's gonna die.
The thought hits me and knocks me down. On my knees, shaking, I grab my brother and put a hand to his chest. Even if that could help, it wouldn't. There's another bullet wound on the other side and I know he's gonna bleed out soon, but I don't have the strength to get up and call an ambulance. I've seen it too many times and they never make it here soon enough for the victim to live.
Not in Rockville. Not in Gang City.
So instead I sit there, I hold him. I tell him things I know he'd want to hear. Like how I'll stop drinking, how I'm gonna go to college, major in pharmacy tech, make a lot of money. How I'm gonna get Ma a great big house in lily-white Tuckerson where she can garden and cook and chill all day, never lifting a finger to provide for anyone, but herself, again. I tell him that I will never forget that baseball game with Dad, just a week before he died, or how he leaves me money for food every time he goes out and I save it for college and how there's already $2200. I let him know I plan to have the life we always wanted, always dreamed of. I tell him how I'm going to change.
And I do.
I spent my whole life trying to fit in. I wondered why my parents wanted me and my brother to go to a “good” school so bad they moved us from our childhood home in busy Rockville to quiet, lily-white Tuckerson. We only ended up living there for three years, until my dad got laid off and we found out that Tuckerson didn't offer the same kind of emergency financial assistance that Rockville was laden with. So we moved back.
At the time, I was happy. I'd hated being removed from somewhere I'd lived my entire life, where I'd grown up. When we moved back, I was thirteen. My brother was fifteen, just about to start high school at broke-down Rockville High. We both quickly found out what we'd missed in the past three years.
Gang initiations.
All of our friends had either joined the Latin Kings or MS13. Since we were Mexican, we had a choose. My brother chose the Latin Kings so I did too. Between rolling up behind the school during classes and partying with my boys on the weekend, it seemed as if I was finally fitting in.
And then it happened.
“'Ey, Gio! I'm heading out, man. Ma said she'd be back about ten. Left some money on the counter for you.”
I hear Miguel yell and jump awake. Groaning, I stumble out of our bedroom to where I assumed he is at our front door.
He eyes me cautiously. “I keep telling you not to drink so much, hombre.”
I laugh at him and plop down on the sofa. Before I can flick on the T.V., Miguel snatches the remote from my hand.
“I'm serious, hermano. You're not even sixteen yet and you already look like you need AA.”
I scoff. “Whatever.”
He grabs my ear harshly and I push him off.
“I'm just trying to make sure you make it to sixteen, bro. Stop trying to be such a bad-ass. A'right?”
I lean back on the couch, not answering, and flick on the T.V.
Miguel sighs. I hear him walk toward the door and step out. The screen door bangs closed loudly behind him. I wish Dad were here to fix that.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I freeze. It's not like it's unusual to hear gunshots around here, but I don't think I've ever heard them that close. I may be part of the Latin Kings, but I don't really do dirty work. That's more Miguel's area of expertize.
Ever since Dad died last year, Miguel's had to turn to the streets for a source of income to help Ma. But it seems like the more she works, the more he's out, and I'm just here by myself, but it's whatever.
I jump up when I hear a car speeding away. Drive-bys are the MS's calling card around here when it comes to getting rid of competition. And I know my brother's friend Ronny's been selling rock, so there's a good chance they just took him out.
I open the screen door and everything starts to slow down. The door's hard to open because something's pressed against it, but I push it hard enough and slip through the crack that's made.
That's when I see the blood. My eyes start to water and my heart starts to pound. I'm stepping in blood and the only way that's possible is if whoever got shot was right outside my door.
I look up. His hazel eyes are staring back at me and he's gasping, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible in the limited amount of time he has left. In the limited amount of time my brother has left to live.
He's gonna die.
The thought hits me and knocks me down. On my knees, shaking, I grab my brother and put a hand to his chest. Even if that could help, it wouldn't. There's another bullet wound on the other side and I know he's gonna bleed out soon, but I don't have the strength to get up and call an ambulance. I've seen it too many times and they never make it here soon enough for the victim to live.
Not in Rockville. Not in Gang City.
So instead I sit there, I hold him. I tell him things I know he'd want to hear. Like how I'll stop drinking, how I'm gonna go to college, major in pharmacy tech, make a lot of money. How I'm gonna get Ma a great big house in lily-white Tuckerson where she can garden and cook and chill all day, never lifting a finger to provide for anyone, but herself, again. I tell him that I will never forget that baseball game with Dad, just a week before he died, or how he leaves me money for food every time he goes out and I save it for college and how there's already $2200. I let him know I plan to have the life we always wanted, always dreamed of. I tell him how I'm going to change.
And I do.
♠ ♠ ♠
Something a little different and random.