Pride(31)

“After you,” he says.

We get up from the stoop and head down Jefferson toward Broadway.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me before about Ainsley?” I punch him lightly on the arm.

“Would you have believed me if I said, ‘Yo, Z. He’s gonna try to play your sister.’ I saw her face that day. Her nose was wide open.”

“You can say that again. And hell yeah I would’ve believed you. I already had my suspicions. Especially with Darius.”

“Yo. Don’t get me started on him.”

“Please, start. ’Cause my fist got his name on it.”

Warren stops walking and laughs really hard. “You’re not getting ready to deck nobody. You’re not a fighter, Z. You’re a lover.”

So I ball up my fist and punch him really hard on his muscular arm. “That’s what you get for underestimating me.”

But Warren doesn’t even flinch. He keeps laughing. “The way you punch, I think I’ma have to fight your battles for you.”

We continue to walk and I shove him again, but he doesn’t even move. “Puh-lease! I don’t need anybody fighting my battles! And you don’t punch, you wrestle. Darius needs somebody to deck him in that tight jaw of his.”

“Damn. What you got against Darius Darcy? I mean, did he break your heart too?”

“Hell, no! I am nothing like my sister in that department. I just don’t like . . . his face.”

“You’re in the minority with that one. Trust me.”

I shrug. “Whatever. It’s one thing to look good, but it’s another thing to walk around knowing it.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? I walk around knowing I look good. Don’t you?” He looks me up and down and licks his lips.

“Warren!” I shove him again and laugh. We reach Broadway, and a train is passing by on the overhead tracks. It’s a cool, breezy summer day and everyone seems to be outside.

We head into Bed-Stuy along Jefferson. We’re now in a part of Brooklyn where some of the brownstones are nicer. A few have For Sale signs in the front, while others are completely renovated. They look less like brownstones and more like museums.

“Real talk, though. Darius thinks everyone’s beneath him. Especially me,” Warren says, after being quiet for a while.

I stop and turn to him. “Spill the tea, Warren, ’cause if you tell me some shit about those boys that pisses me off . . .”

He laughs, then clears his throat. “I started Easton in the seventh grade. That’s their upper school. And back then, there were only, like, seven of us. So me and Darius were cool from the jump, even though he was way too corny for me. In that school, the thing to do was playdates and sleepovers. So I’d go to his apartment in Manhattan a lot, and he practically begged his parents to come to my place, even though I told him about the shootings and drug dealers and shit. I even showed him how to walk down the block and keep his head up in case somebody rolled up on us. He thought it was all fun and games, like the stuff he sees in movies. But his parents were not trying to have their son spend the night with some financial-aid kid at his welfare-queen mother’s roach-infested apartment.”

“What? Did they say that?” I ask.

“They didn’t have to say it. I knew that’s what they were thinking. Me and D were cool for a while, but then I got into a fight outside school. And Mr. Darcy tried to get me kicked out. He thought I was a bad influence on his son. But the worst part of that was that Darius didn’t even have my back. He was all about coming to my house and seeing how it is out here, but when he came face-to-face with that shit, he straight up violated. That’s street code numero uno: Have your friend’s back. Always. Ain’t that some shit? He’s black, but he ain’t that black, feel me? The way we do it out here, if your boy gets into a fight, ain’t you supposed to have his back? But instead, his pops tries to get me kicked out of Easton.”

“Dang, Warren. That’s messed up. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I didn’t know the Darcys were that shady.”

“The Darcys are bougie, but they don’t like drama. They’re real protective about their reputation. My mother had to come up to the school and practically beg for me to stay. She threatened to sue for discrimination. After that, Darius wouldn’t dare look me in the eye.”

I shake my head as something inside me comes to a boil. I’m fuming. Those Darcys can have all the nice things money can buy, but they don’t have decency or compassion. Now I’m especially glad it’s over between Janae and Ainsley. Not only do I have my sister back for the summer, but I know the truth about that family across the street.

“I’m sorry, Warren. Really. What Darius did is not cool,” I say.

In an instant, Warren’s arm is around my shoulder, a little too quick. “I appreciate that, ZZ.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you do,” I say, but I don’t move away.

We walk and talk some more, and by midafternoon, we make it back to Bushwick, where the sun is blazing hot and it’s even louder than in Bed-Stuy. We run into a few people he knows and who also know me. We go into different bodegas for water, Icees, chips, sunflower seeds, and it’s all as easy as the warm summer breeze. When we reach the corner of my building, Warren faces me.