The Knife and the Butterfly (14 page)

When the cell doors slide open for rec, I barely believe it. I think maybe this is the most I’ve read in my whole life. I shove the notebook under the mattress and shuffle out to line up with everybody else. I fall in line behind the tall, fat guy who took Baby Tiger’s cell. It’s times like this that I really miss Tigs, but no way am I going to risk talking to anybody. Maybe that’s what got Tigs in trouble. I’m real good at getting people into trouble.

CHAPTER 28: THEN

“Listen, Eddie, thirteen seconds don’t sound like long, but when your ass is getting pounded by twenty strong-asfuck dudes and you can’t fight back, it’s gonna feel like fuckin’ forever, okay?”

Eddie jogged a little in place. “You underestimate me,
carnalito
.” He cracked his knuckles and then nodded at the door. “Let’s do this.”

I kicked open the door to the vacant apartment, grabbed Eddie by the arm, and pushed him inside. Before I even slammed the door behind us, the count started and the homies were yelling and beating on him. Mono locked eyes with me just as his fist smashed into Eddie’s gut. I knew what he was waiting for.

“Can you take it, bro? Can you fuckin’ take it?” I screamed as I pounded him from behind. “Think you’re
Mara
material,
ése
?”

By Poco’s call of
cinco
, Eddie was crumpled on the floor taking kicks to his sides and back. I couldn’t see his face. Because even though this was the right thing, a hardship he had to go through, I didn’t want Eddie to see me hit him. Me getting clicked in, whatever, that was pain to the body. Watching Eddie get jumped hurt me in a different way, a soul-pounding.

Some of the guys from the back pushed forward when Mono called out
ocho
, and I let Doble shove me out of reach of Eddie. As soon as Doble made his first contact with Eddie, I knew giving up my spot was a mistake. Now Doble was pounding him twice as hard. Nobody was supposed to hit your face, but when Poco called out
once
, Doble punched Eddie above the ear. On
doce
he kicked his chin, and on the final count of
trece
he yanked Eddie’s head back by the hair and smashed his face forward into the dirty carpet.

“That’s it!” Mono shouted a split second too late to save Eddie a broken nose.

Doble yanked Eddie up off the ground and slapped his back. “
Bienvenido
, homie,” he said, shoving him too hard.

Eddie wobbled, blood streaming out of his nose. One of his eyes was swollen all the way shut.

“Way to take it, brother,” I told him.

“
La Eme Ese controla
,” Eddie said. His voice was strong, but something looked loose in his expression. And I had a moment of, oh shit, what’d I do? But then we busted out the Dos Equis and Coronas, plus a rag to clean up his face a little, and the party started.

CHAPTER 29: NOW

Lunch comes early. Gabe slides a tray of neon-orange macaroni and cheese over to me. He’s already walking away when he says, “No observation today,” so I don’t have a chance to ask him how come. Maybe he remembers me telling him what a dummy I am, how long it takes me to read shit. I shovel in the mac and cheese, rinse it down with some weak grape juice, and get back down to business. I’m tired of sitting with the covers over my head, so I slide down under my cot and let the blanket fall down over the edge.

Today group was stupid as hell, but funny. The word we were supposed to talk about was “peace” and it took some of the bitches half the session to figure out he wasn’t talking about a gun. Group Guy is a moron, and his teeth make me laugh.

So I was sitting by the fence during my outdoor rec, trying to stay away from the freaks. Except for a couple of Mexican girls by the stairs, it looks like special ed recess. A midget, a kid in a wheelchair, a girl missing an arm, another chick with an eye patch. Not what I want to see during my one hour out of the unit.

I turned my back to the weirdos and looked out past the fence. There’s this abandoned stretch of land, and I watched the wind make faded plastic bags dance through the weeds. Then I saw something moving on its own. It was a teeny white and orange cat. It chased a grasshopper for a minute or two, then started crying all pitiful when it couldn’t catch it. Dogs are way better than cats, but I still felt sorry for it. Animals aren’t bad the way people are. People do wrong and need punishing, but animals don’t know any better. They do what they know how to do. I don’t see how anybody could hurt an animal.

The cat walked toward the fence, and then it started to climb the chain links about ten feet away from me. I tried to tell it not to come in, that it was better off free, but really I was hoping it would come over so I could pet it. When it got to the barbed wire at the top, the stupid thing stuck its paw right onto the sharp part and yowled. It jumped back to the ground and ran away.

Janet didn’t show up for three days in a row, so I was almost glad to see her today. I still acted pissed, but it was good just to get out of the cell. It even seemed like the hour went by faster. I like it best when she has a game for us to play.

I haven’t heard shit from anyone in the crew. It’s like my homeboys already forgot about me. I wrote two letters to Cartoon, plus one to Slots. And I know my letters make it out. When I write to Meemaw, she always writes back. I can feel myself getting pissed. I’d do anything for them, and they can’t send me a fuckin’ postcard? Cartoon would say some shit about how I’m just a girl and I can’t claim Crazy Crew, so they got no obligation to me. But loyalty goes deeper than rules, and I’m loyal. They should know that by now.

For like the first time since third grade, I’m actually doing my schoolwork. I was a good student when I was little as long as my teachers were cool. I remember my second grade teacher, Ms. Riggins. She was this real tall black lady, and she was always nice to me. Sometimes I’d ask her why couldn’t she be my mom? When I came to school she’d say, “Lexi Lou, how are you?” Then she’d laugh, and her pretty white teeth showed.

Third grade was whatever, then in fourth grade shit hit the fan. Mrs. Montes hated me. I was already getting my period and I had boobs and everything. She’d just stare at me like it was my fault I looked like I did. Like I wanted to have boys popping my bra strap and trying to pinch my nipples or girls laughing when I came out of the class bathroom with a dirty pad all wrapped up in toilet paper because there wasn’t a trash can in there. I started messing up my work just because it pissed Mrs. Montes off; then before I knew it, they were holding me back. And everything in school sucked after that.

But when the big fat envelope from Lamar High School came last week, I didn’t throw it away like I planned. They won’t let me have my music or anything in here. I can only stand scribbling in this notebook for so many hours a day. I might as well do something. I bet this is how they get even the stubbornest shits to finish their GED in alternative schools. Just bore the hell out of them until they do something.

All the assignments come with real clear directions, and I’m supposed to get a new package every week. There’s even a letter saying that I can request a tutor if I’m having any trouble. Kiss-asses.

Those preppy jerks in the Lamar office didn’t give a shit about me when I went in to register in April. But Gray Suit says a lot of people on the outside are blaming Lamar for not doing more to stop what happened. They’re just trying to cover themselves, I guess. Whenever the security guards at Lamar heard that something was going down, they just made sure to chase everybody off campus so that we didn’t fight on school property.

The school I was in before was the opposite. There were stairwells and certain halls where people got jumped all the time. Nobody cared. There was even a corner of the courtyard that the security cameras didn’t reach.

When I transferred to Lamar, I just drifted at first. Then I started to hang at the convenience store where the non-preps and apartment kids smoked after school. That’s where I met Cartoon. I saw him from where I was standing by this broke-ass pay phone. I was passing the time drawing designs on my arm in Sharpie, spirals and lines and squiggles to spell out LIFE IS SHIT in my own secret language. I saw him go into the store. Cartoon is skinny but his arms are all built, and that day he had on a wife beater and baggy brown pants slung way low on his hips like he wanted you to think about what would happen if you loosened that red belt even a little.

When he walked back out with his pack of smokes, he came over my way, looking me up and down with this sly smile. He said, “Damn, girl, you look hot in those shorts.”

I just gave him my best go-to-hell look and told him to shut up. But when I felt his eyes slide over my tank top I pushed my elbows against the wall a little to make my boobs stick out more. Then I said, “Watch out ’fore I beat your ass.”

“You new?” he asked. He smacked his pack of reds against his palm.

“I ain’t new, bitch. I’m Lexi,” I said, giving him this half smile. And when he offered me one of his smokes, I asked him, “Don’t you got anything better?”

He lit up and leaned forward. After a sec, he asked, “What you got in mind?”

By the end of the day, I had my hook-up for handle-bars, plus somebody to hang with. Cartoon introduced me around to his homeboys. And my boys are down. They always make sure I’m okay.

This Cartoon fool, I know him. I mean, I know his type. Strutting around like he’s the shit, wearing the colors of his lame-ass gang like he’s going to star in some Disney special. Fool doesn’t know anything about battling for real. Guys like him, they’ve got no style, neither. Sure, what dude ain’t looking to a score a piece of ass, but have a little style is all I’m saying.