I walks on down out the park and down the street. I’m goin to the K’rean muthafucka’s sto’. He owe me. He owe me all he got for tellin me to get outta his fuckin’ sto’ and then callin the police. Just cause I wasn’t buyin nuffin. K’rean muthafucka. I just know that register of his be fulla money.
I stand cross the street and I watch people goin in and comin out the lil’ grocery sto’. Finally aint nobody in there but that K’rean. I crosses the street, give another look up and down the street and I go in.
That K’rean recognize me when I walk in. I can tell by the way he look at me. But he dont say nuffin. I look at the chips on the rack and he step real slow round the counter. He be runnin his hand through his hair like he nervous, shootin glances at me wif them little squinty eyes. Then he behind the counter, facin me and I see he’s reachin down for sumpin.
I pulls my piece and point at his yellow face. “Put yo’ hands on the counter,” I say.
He put ‘em flat on the counter. He lookin at my eyes. “What you wan?” he ax. “Take what you wan and go way.”
“Gimme the money in the register,” I say. I watch him while he do it. It look to be bout round a hundred. “Okay, where the safe.”
“No got safe,” he say.
“Fuck you, man,” I say. “Where the safe.” I push the gun closer to his face.
“Safe in back,” he say. “Don’t shoot.”
“Come round from there real slow,” I tells him.
But he don’t come round real slow. He duck down behind the counter and try to come back up with a shotgun. I pop him. The pistol jump in my hand and I almost drop it. I hit him in the head, in the side of the head. The hole look neat and there aint much blood at first. I shoots him three mo’ times until he in a lake of blood. Muthafucka. Shit, fuckin K’rean made me kill his ass. I dint tell him to grab no gun. I grab the money up off the counter and run out.
My head be throbbin. I dont know what to think or where to go. I run and run and run but I aint gettin nowhere. I be hongry as hell and I go into a Popeye chicken place. I eat some chicken and drink me a Sprite while sittin in the back booth near the bafrooms. I just be hopin I dont see nobody I knows. But the food be good.
I walk past the high school and down a wide alley and somebody call out to me. I pull the gun real fast and turn round and there is Willy the wino.
“Whoa,” he say. “Dont shoot me, pardner.” He drunk as shit and swayin in the light from a window above him. “That you, Van Go.”
“Yeah, it me, you drunk muthafucka,” I say.
“Where you runnin to and why you got that gun?” he ax.
“Just leave me alone,” I say.
“How yo’ mama?” he ax.
“What?”
“I say, how yo’ mama?” he say. “Think bout it, Van Go. Look at my face. Look at my coal black skin and then look at yown. Look at my black eyes and then look at yown. Look at my big black lips and look at yown. I be your daddy whether you likes it or not.”
“Shut up,” I say.
“It true,” he say.
“Then where you been?” I ax.
“I been doin what I do, survivin,” he say. “You aint worth a piss. Yo’ mama aint worth a piss. So, here I is.”
I can feel the rage swell up inside me. I hates this man. I hates my mama. I hates myself. I’m seein my face in his. I see the ape that stupid girls say they be fraid of. I see my long arms hangin down. I see eyes that dont care what happen tomorrow. I see myself rockin on my heels, waitin, waitin, waitin for sumpin I won’t recognize when it come. My only cure gone be death. I heard it all my life. I be hearin it now. I see Mama bleedin in my dream. I see my babies. I see Rexall, wifout a brain, growin up and axing “Why not me?” I see my daddy. I see myself. I shoot the muthafucka. Pop! In the gut.
Willy double over and he look at me like to say, “Why?” I yell at him. I be standin over him yellin at the back of his head. “Cause you aint shit!” I say. “Cause you made me, muthafucka! Cause I aint shit!” I be cryin now and I think I hear sumpin out at the street. I run again.
I falls asleep in the basement of an empty buildin.
I has a dream. In the dream this big white man tryin me out for a basketball team. He makin me run laps round the court. Lap after lap after lap. And everytime I comes by him he laughin harder. So, finally I stops and looks at him and I ax, “What you laughin at?”
“You runnin the wrong way, nigger,” he say.
“Why dint you say sumpin,” I say. Then I turn around and start runnin the opposite direction. And everytime I pass by him he laughin harder again. So, I stops and stares at him. “What the fuck so funny now?” I ax.
“You’re running with your left foot first,” he say.
“What you talkin bout?” I ax. I dont understand. “I s’posed to start on my right foot?”
“No, but it’s supposed to fall first every time,” he say. “It don’t matter which one you start with.”
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“Okay, forget that,” he say. “Try running backwards.”
I run twenty laps backward and my legs be achin and I realize that I aint got on no shoes and my feet be bleedin. And then Willy is runnin backwards beside me, keepin up with me. The coach nods at me everytime I come by. I look over at Willy and he’s smilin.
“See, it aint so bad,” he say.
“What you doin here?” I say.
“I come to tell you that you was wrong,” he say.
“Bout what?” I ax.
“You say you aint shit,” he say. “You say I aint shit. Well, I is shit and so is you.” He laughs loud and stops runnin. I pass by the coach and he be laughin too.
Nine
I wakes up the next mornin sweatin like a fuckin pig and I be stank. I crawls outta that hole and the light hurts my eyes. I duck through the alleys until I come up to the back of the pool hall. I climb up the fire escape and gets in through the bafroom window. I splash water on my face and then I just sits there for a while, restin, wonderin where I’m gone go. I falls asleep again in one of the stalls.
When I wakes up I hear balls breakin on a table outside. I opens the door and takes a peek and I see Yellow and Tito playin a game. I walk out there but I stay in the shadows. Yellow see me.
“Nigger, what you doin here?” he say, tryin to keep his voice down.
Tito come over. “Man, you hotta than a Swisher Sweet.”
“You been on the TV non-stop,” Yellow say. “They gone gas yo’ ass.”
“Shit,” I say. “They don’t gas you for rape and runnin.”
“They does fo’ murder,” Yellow say. “They caught yo’ butt on the security cam shootin that K’rean.”
“Oh shit,” I say.
“Oh shit is right,” Tito say.
“Who dat back there?” the fat man call to Tito and Yellow.
“Aint nobody but us, Pops,” Tito say.
I ducks down in the hallway.
“What you gone do?” Yellow ax.
“I guess I’ll go down to Mexico,” I say.
“Nigger, you dont eben speak Spanish,” Yellow say.
“So what,” I say. “Them muthafuckas come up here and they dont speak no American.”
“Police been here lookin for you,” Tito say. “Fat Man look at yo’ picture and took they card. There’s a reward. He’ll drop a dime on yo’ ass in second.”
“Buncha niggers would,” I say. “I need a car.”
“We aint got a car,” Tito say.
“Get me one,” I say.
“And why should we get yo’ stupid ass a car?” Yellow ax.
“Cause I’m a brother,” I says.