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Price of Admission

 

By Chris Carr

Copyright 07/18/2013

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

Beginning of the semester, I started kickin’ it with Bryck and his crew. Thought I was the shit and my peeps couldn’t tell me nothing.

“Better watch them niggas,” they’d say, face all worried.

“Nigga, shut up! Y’all ain’t ‘bout nothin’.” Should’ve listened though.

 

Bryck was a senior, well, he was in the 12th grade but seem like Bryck never graduated. Homey was crazy. Talked shit all the time and never backed down from anything. He and his boys would hang out behind the gym, rolling dice. Most the kids in my group wouldn’t be caught dead back there, probably because they’d get killed! HaHa!

 

But me, I ain’t got no sense so I started tippin’ back there, watching them play and trying to look hard. At first they just ignored me, rollin’ them bones up against the wall. I’m standing there in my brand new clothes moms just bought me, silver chain hanging round my neck, thinking I’m all that.

 

So Bone was the first to talk to me. Asked me the usual; my name, where I stayed, how old I was. I was scared to tell him much because I figured they found out I stayed in Crestwood, no way I’d get in, so I just told him my age and that I was new to this side of town.

 

He was cool, letting me take a hit on his cigarette, or sometimes a blunt. After a while, they let me play a little but a nigga didn’t know shit. Still don’t! Don’t kid yourself kid, playing craps ain’t a little kid game. You got to know all kind of math and when to roll and when to bet and what you got in points...

 

 

 

 

 

 

My first clue that shit wasn’t right should’ve been the way nobody ever got tight with me. Yeah, Bone would let me take a hit on his dank, and when they passed around the 40, I always got a swig, but I still wasn’t “in”, per se. I was so caught up with what it looked like, hanging out with them niggas though, I never even noticed it. Lost all my peeps ‘cause, all of them was scared to death of Bryck and his crew. Started wearing my jeans down around my hips and then just got me a pair of khakis like the niggas in the gang that sagged way below my ass.

 

Rolling the dice every day and plopping down my little chump change. Talking shit and getting high… life was good. That is, till Bryck decided to up the stakes...

 

“Only niggas can play today got to have a dime,” he snarled, slapping his $10 down.

 

Ain’t nobody wanted to look like a fag so niggas dug deep and all put they 10’s down. Then they was looking at me. Now, pops gave me $10 every day and between holding it for craps and the little I’d won, I had ‘bout $17, but I’m  thinking, I crap out twice and my ass is fucked. I threw my little ten in, hands shaking but I didn’t let on...

 

 

 

 

 

 

All week, I’m avoiding Bryck like the plague and hiding out in the library, ‘cause the last place a thug gone be is the library. Things was going good until I ran into Bone on the P.E. yard that Friday.

“Bryck lookin’ fo you,” he informed. Nigga got this amused look on his face like he just waiting to see what I gon’ do.

“Yo, what I’m gon’ do?” I said. Bone hunched his shoulders, twirling that toothpick he always got around in his lips.

“What he do, you don’t pay?”

“Don’t wanna do that, son.”

“Why?”

“Think he carry that nine for nothin’? Nigga’ll drop a cap in yo’ skanchy ass in a minute.”

“Shit!” I said, pacing. “Man, I ain’t got that kind of money. What I’m gon’ do?”

“Got ta come up wit’ it. What ‘bout yo’ pops, ain’t he good fo’ it?”

“Man, pops’ll kill me too.” I was getting really stressed ‘bout then. I’m pacing back and forth and pounding my fist in my hand.

 

Bone let me stew for a while then he says, “Come with me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

...bone lit up a cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke out his lips sideways and puts his foot up on the little coffee table.

“Can… can you help me?” I asked.

 

...he blows another sideways trail of smoke, flicking the ashes onto the floor and spreads his legs a little so I can see his shit dangling. A nigga must’ve been plenty horny ‘cause, here I was facing a life and death situation and I’m copping a peep at Bone’s package. He’s finishing off his cigarette and then he says,

“You really want me to make this go away?”

“Think I don’t?”

 

‘Bout then I noticed, Bone is got a problem in his pants. Right before my eyes, his shit gets bigger and then while I’m looking at it, he flexes it and makes it go up and down. Ever seen a cornered animal, just before the big tiger or the snake jumps his ass? Way they be watching their attackers every move and plotting, hoping to save they ass? My head was going a mile a second and my heart was thumping so hard, I knew he could probably see it.

“Handle that,” he says, flexing his shit again.

I’m looking from his groin to his face, my head still whirring.

“Be gettin’ all quiet now,” Bone said, those fierce eyes of his looking through me. I was speechless, my mouth dropped open, heart beating all fast.

“Handle this,” he repeated, moving closer, that bulge unmistakable now. He put his hand behind my head and started pulling me toward his groin. I know this probably sound weak but, I couldn’t do nothing. My ass was in deep shit and all I could think was, do this and get out… do this and get out. 

 

 

 

...yanks my head back down his shit again till he’s bone hard, then he pushes me off and onto the couch. Now, Bone is ‘bout 3 years older than me and got me beat, size wise, but this ain’t cool, especially seeing he’s trying to lay me on my stomach.

“Yo, wassup?” I’m yelling, trying to get up. And I would’ve if Bryck hadn’t stepped out the back room.

“Hold his li’l squirmin’ ass,” Bone said...

 

 

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