Wrath White - Yaccub's Curse

“Hold up! What’s your name?”

I stuck my head back through the door.

“My name’s Malik. My friends call me Snap.”

“Call me. Okay, Snap?”

I didn’t like the way it sounded in her plain, flat, unaccented voice.

“Uh, just call me Malik.”

I slipped out the door and rejoined Tank and Huey on the sidewalk.

“I don’t believe you kissed that devil,” Huey hissed.

“Fool, I’m gettin’ fucked tonight. I don’t give a fuck what your ass got to say about that shit.” I started strolling off toward Sixth Street.

“Fuck is you goin’, Snap? We goin’ to get some pizza.”

“With what money?”

All the money we’d gotten from that incident in the lot had long been spent.

“Fuck buyin’ some pizza. We just gonna jack some white boys for their shit.”

Huey’s greatest joy in life was victimizing the dominant racial group and I knew that it was no coincidence that his craving for pizza happened to coincide with a young white couple leaving LA Pizza and heading down Fifth Street with an extra-large.

“Come on. Let’s swoop on these mutherfuckers,” Tank whispered excitedly before charging across the street.

The couple had just passed Record Exchange on Fifth and I knew there was an alley in the middle of the next block where we could jump them. My heart wasn’t really into it though. I was too busy thinking about getting my first piece of ass.

The guy was as tall as me but heavier. At six-two I was still only a hundred and sixty pounds whereas the white boy was nearly two-hundred pounds. Tank was much heavier than the white boy though, which made me feel more confident. And Huey, who was still just over five feet, was completely dwarfed by the guy. The girl he was with was a tiny frail looking little thing. No ass, no breasts, five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds. She was blonde with spiked hair, tattoos and earrings up and down both ears, wearing saggy old fashioned clothes that didn’t match and obviously came from a thrift store. On her feet she wore combat boots. I never understood why some girls seemed to go out of their way to make themselves look ridiculous.

By the time they reached the corner we were behind them and they knew it, the way a herd of antelope senses when they are being ringed in by hyenas. They started whispering to each other and peeking back at us. We didn’t care if they knew what was going down. There was nothing they could do to stop it.

Tank left our side and started walking in the street just in case they tried to run. The alley was now just a few yards away. As the couple drew closer to the dark gaping maw between the two buildings they grew more and more tense. They knew that this was where it would happen.

From their left, Tank began to close in on them circling around in front of them and Huey took over his former position in the street. I stayed behind them and just as we reached the alley I grabbed the white boy in a bear hug and started dragging him into an alley.

“Hey! Let me go. Da fuck are you doin’ man? Help! Help!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Tank growled and then leveled him with a right hook. The pizza fell to the floor and was trampled as we scuffled.

The white boy was dazed and thankfully silent as we dragged his limp body into the alley. I thought the girl had run off because I hadn’t heard her scream, but then, when I turned to look for her, I caught a face full of pepper-spray.

“Aaaaah! My eyes! The bitch maced me!”

I heard shuffling and cursing and what sounded like blows being thrown. The girl never screamed once as Huey and Tank beat the shit out of her and her boyfriend.

I still couldn’t see as we ran down the street. Huey and Tank were holding my arms and guiding me along as we ran. I could hear doors opening in the houses as we passed. Whenever I tried to open my eyes pain washed over me. My own tears burned my skin as they dripped down my cheeks. My lungs were clogged with the stuff and I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was about to pass out. There was no way I could keep running. I coughed and sneezed and finally I stopped running.

“Come on, man. We got to go!” Tank yelled.

“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” My mounting panic was making things worse. It felt like I was trying to inhale flames. My nostrils, throat, and even my lungs burned.

“Shit! We can’t leave you here.”

“Damn straight you can’t!”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Tank! Can you carry him?”

“For about a block. Maybe two.”

“Well, fuck it. Carry him as far as you can.”

Tank slung me over his shoulder and we ran again. I thought I was going to throw up. After another minute or so my eyesight came back blurry and unfocused and still burning like I was looking into a blast furnace. What I saw wasn’t good.

Three cop cars were speeding up the street toward us. Tank stopped and looked at Huey questioningly. Huey snatched our guns out of our wastebands and ran toward an alley across the street. Huey came back out of the alley just as Tank and I were being thrown across the hood of a police cruiser and cracked across the hamstrings and back of the knees with Billy clubs. If he had just kept walking he probably could have gotten away. Huey didn’t look at all like a thug.

“You with these guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Then your ass is going to jail too.”

“You got any weapons on you?”

“No.”

“Do you know what you’re being arrested for?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any drugs on you?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen?”

“How old?”

“Fourteen?”

“You’re a bit big for fourteen ain’t you? You play basketball?”

“Don’t all niggas?”

“Well, then you should have kept your black ass on the court instead of fucking around in the street robbing people. Now come on niggers and get your asses in the car! You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”

I spent the night in jail. My mom refused to come and get me. I spent eight months in Youth Study Center, Philadelphia’s juvenile detention ward, before the trial. I was sentenced to another six months in Youth Study Center plus time served. After that the three of us were sent to Daniel Boone, probably the worst reform school in Philadelphia. Some of Scratch’s boys were there at the same time we were. We joined up with his little gang just to make things easier. Reform schools are as bad or worse than penitentiaries. Kids were beaten, killed, and raped everyday by other kids and guards alike. Every morning I woke up to the smell of burning flesh. Setting fire to someone’s bed was Boone’s favorite way of eliminating an enemy. There were many kids walking around with severe burn scars to match the scars from shanks and shivs. Joining up with Scratch was the safest way to ensure that we would live through the night. Once we were back on the street our relationship with Scratch continued profitably.

“I heard you three little thugs was holdin’ it down for me over at Boone. You in now. You want to stay in then come with me. I got plenty of work if you want it. Ya’ll down?”

He smiled and his gold-plated grille gleamed like the fiery gates of hell. He wanted me to come work for the devil. I thought about all the money we’d made for smokin’ Demetrious’ bitch ass and how nice it was to have all those cool clothes and shit. Fuck it.

“Yeah, we down.”

A chill raced up my spine like a ghost had just crossed my path. I ignored it.

“What do we got to do?”

— | — | —

Chapter 9

“ There are many humorous things in the world, among them the white man’s notion that he is less savage than the other savages.”