“You got everybody on your side, but I ain’t impressed by money and fancy cars. I’m not a dick riding motherfuc—”
“You a lot dumber than I thought.”
“Nah, youare. Fling your privilege around—beat my ass. I’d be happy for you to do it. Maybe we’ll finally get rid of you for good. Nobody wants you here, you know that, right? I’m just the only one bold enough to say it to your face.”
I laugh, nodding. “Bold and stupid. I keep forgetting how small your brain is. I guess that’s why you need Lourdes around to hold your hand every fucking day.”
“Keep her name out your mouth—”
“Or what?” I step forward, crushing our bodies together.
I keep my eyes on his, but he can’t return the favor because he’s just a bold, stupid, selfish boy that Phat’s confused about.
“Orwhat?” I ask again.
“Or—or—or...” he stutters out. “I’ll tell Marcus you—”
That shit makes an even louder laugh fly from my gut while he looks at everything but me.
“Tell him what?” I ask, smiling. “Tell him how you brag about fucking his sister to niggas when he’s not playing big brother to you? Tell him how she’s beenyour girlsince the semester started? Tell him how you let her drink at a party and left her to fend for herself while you chased pussy the rest of the night?”
He blinks up at the ceiling because he still can’t look me in my eyes. He can’t even deny what I’m saying because we both know it’s true.
“How about you tell him this—tell him I’ll do them niggas just like I told him I’d do him if they even breathe Lourdes’ way again. Tell him I’ll beso gladwhen she stops thinking she’s grown and being curious about dumbass parties and little boys that don’t know enough about life to keep her safe. Tell him I’m still holding shit down at the crib while he steady running, so Lourdes made it back home safe, but she’s still in trouble for drinking, Mom didn’t hide her breakfast in the trash Sunday morning but the neuropathy got so bad in her fingers I had to feed her. Because I’m not scared of him—you are. This shit don’t have nothing to do with basketball. It’s bigger than that.”
I could curse him out for the foul shit he’s done to Phat since I met him, put him on his knees and make him call her and apologize while I watch, but that was impulsive and impulse is shit little ladies don’t need—especially mine. Mine needs stability. Mom said it was a must, but she didn’t have time to tell me how to control my impulses while keeping shit stable. There’s a lot she didn’t have time for but Bryson wouldn’t know it because he thinks like Pops and not like me and Mom, so as soon as he opens his mouth with a rebuttal my impulsive ass does exactly what Phat doesn’t need.
A loud crack echoes through the locker room.
I can’t even feel my knuckles crash against his eye because impulse numbs it all.
He heaves in and out and pushes against me and he’s talking, but I can’t hear anything. Impulse gets rid of that too.
Somebody curls their hand around my shoulder and tries to yank me back from him.
“Ace, bro. Let go,” LaQuan hisses, peeling my fingers from Bryson’s collar. “He leaking all over the floor.”
The red I saw sits in droplets along the concrete floor while Bryson groans out and slides down the lockers.
LaQuan squeezes his burly body between us, but I’m not done.
“Apologize,” I grit out, pushing into LaQuan’s back.
“Apologize?” Bryson sputters out around a glob of blood. “I’d never apologize to you—”
“To Lourdes.”
“Fuck you! Get outta my face.”
Sometimes Mom said impulse gave me superhuman strength. It’s what helps me grip LaQuan around his neck and yank him behind us.
“Ace!” he yells while I squat to make Bryson look me in my face one last time.
All the shit he’s too naïve to know about swirls on it. Impulse. Stability. Perfect little ladies. They even make impulsive ass words fly out of my mouth without me thinking.
“I’m not Coach Williams. I’m not here to give you motivational speeches and tell you how proud I am that you wiped your ass this morning. I’ll knock your ass out every time you walk in this bitch if she don’t tell me you apologized.... and she’ll tell me when I ask her—believe that. Yourgalwill do anything I ask her to do.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
