Knockout Games (16 page)

First the sex video, then lying about his dad?

I knew he knew what I was mad about, so I waited for him to explain himself.

He was all tensed up, looking guilty. “OK, I fucked up.”

“Really? I'm trying to understand why someone sends a video of a girl he's just
fucked
to that girl's only friend! That's what I'm trying to get. I mean, maybe I could see you showing it to your perverted little pal Prince, which would still be fucked up—but Destiny?!”

He kept his eyes glued to the wall. “It was an accident.”

My jaw dropped. “An
accident
? Oh, this should be good. Go ahead, tell me how a sex video of us gets sent to my best friend? Go ahead.”

His face was burning up. “This app I got posts it to Facebook and then you just tag the person you want to see it. Your name is right next to hers. I accidentally clicked on hers thinking it was you. It was a mistake. Believe me, D told me off good.”

I sat there with my jaw open. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. “How is that even possible?”

“I said I was sorry, OK?!”

I was fuming. “No, actually, you didn't.”

He looked at me for the first time. “OK, then. Well I am. Sorry.”

“Of all people, her. I mean, you two already have some weird history going on. I could see you sending it to her just to piss her off—”

“She's just one of the guys to me now.”

“OK. I'm not even going to comment on that,” I said, shaking my head. “I told you I didn't want you to record us.”

He blinked. “I thought you'd understand. You filmed the crew doing all kinds of things and shared it—”

“This is nothing like that! Jesus—that was . . . my first time.” A tear escaped my eye, but I quickly wiped it away.

“I'm—”

I cut him off. “Give me your phone.”

He saw he was going to lose this one. “Fine.”

He pushed Boner away and reached into his pocket, tossing the phone to me. Boner scampered to his hiding spot in the closet.

I didn't have to search for the video; it was already opened on his screen. I didn't ever want to see it again.

I deleted the video and waited for the phone to process it. “This was not something for others to see!” I threw the phone at him. He didn't duck fast enough; it pinged off his chest.

“Fuck, girl. Get your shit together,” he said, rubbing his shirt.

“Delete it from Facebook. Now!” I watched him do it. He knew better than to argue.

When it was done, he stuck his phone in his pocket. “You got no problem filming some dude getting laid out—”

“Yeah, well that's gonna change. What is wrong with you? I'm not just one of your slutty girlfriends. That was supposed to be . . . special!”

“Special? You been watching too much TV. This is real life. People do it all the time now.”

“Real life? It's MY life!” I yelled. “It's my
fucking
life!”

He jumped up when I started yelling. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Chill. My moms is out there.”

“I don't care,” I said, my eyes misting up again. I ignored it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Hey. I'm sorry. Really.” He walked slowly toward me trying not to spook me. I flinched when his hand touched my arm. “I'm really sorry,” he whispered. “That was stupid of me. Maybe part of me did want to show someone; I don't know.”

Unbelievable.
“Did
you show it to Prince and those guys?”

He seemed upset. “No. No, I promised I wouldn't do that....”

I closed my eyes. Part of me wanted to hold on to my anger and let it eat him alive. But there was still something about him holding me that calmed me down instead. “You two. . . have a messed up friendship.”

He nodded. My arms were limp at my side; he held me close. We stood there for a minute until I finally raised my arms and pushed him away.

“And why did you lie to me about your dad being dead? What's that about? I felt like an idiot in front of your mom.”

Kalvin scoffed. “I didn't lie . . . not exactly.” He went to the window and gazed out. “He is dead—to me.”

I was out of words. I stood there for at least a minute or two staring at his backside. Finally, I just said, “I don't know what he did to you that was so bad or why he's in prison, but you are your own person. Those Tokers look up to you. You could do something with that besides turning them into fighting machines. I'm starting to think Joe Lee is right. It makes no sense what we're doing.”

“What—you on his side now?”

“He came to our school today. With the police! So far, I can't say he's lied. I mean, I've only seen you guys pick white people as your targets. How can you go after white people and say you're in—say you like being with
me
?”

He laughed bitterly. “Because it ain't about race! You just been hyped up by those commenters on his website. They think this is some kind of
black-on-white
thing! Shit, Tokers is just looking for targets that won't fight back is all. Can't help it if white people can't fight. If it makes you feel better, we clocked a Asian dude a while back—”

“Whatever. We're putting people into the hospital. People are afraid to go out because of us. That guy may not be my kind of person, but I can understand how he just wants his life back. Maybe that's what I want too.”

He was taken aback by that. “Did you even hear him at the rally? He didn't have a life before. Now he's somebody. He has people watching his videos. And how do you get more viewers? By calling it a race issue—”

This was going nowhere. “You're just making excuses.” I pushed him away. “I'm leaving.”

I had my hand on the knob when he said, “Wait.”

I stood there in front of the door. I heard him open his dresser drawer and riffle through some junk. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him pulling out a bunch of DVDs in sleeves and flipping through them. He stopped suddenly when he came to what he was searching for.

He dropped the rest and stared at it like it was Kryptonite. “Fuck it.”

He pulled out the DVD and stuck it into his laptop. While it was loading, someone started banging on the front door. He jumped. When the banging continued, his mom called out, “Kalvin?”

He kept his eyes locked on mine. “Just sit and watch this before you leave. I'll be right back.” He paused next to me. “Whatever you wanna think, it's out of my hands.”

23

Kalvin stepped out into the living room, where I saw his mom peering through the peephole in their front door. “Kalvin,” she said again, a little more desperate.

He shut the bedroom door in front of me.

“Kalvin, get your butt over here,” said a man's voice. It was coming from his laptop. I turned and saw a skinny little kid who was maybe twelve, with cornrows. His eyes seemed more brownish, but it was definitely Kalvin. Someone was recording him; it was a home movie. He didn't want to engage with the person behind the camera. “Come on, Kalvin. Time to man up!”

The camera turned to reveal the shooter—a white man in his early thirties, with thinning hair and a tattoo of a fist on his beefy arm. He had Kalvin's intense eyes. “Come on, kid. How you gonna learn anything way over there?”

I recognized the roof. The sky was cloudy and dark, on the verge of rain. Kalvin was smaller and skinnier, but still rough around the edges. He had sparring gloves on, but he hung back; he wasn't sure he wanted to be there. Finally, the man coaxed him into coming up to the camera.

“Say hi, son.”

He peered into the lens. “Hi, son.” So I guess that was his dad then.

His dad pulled off his shirt, revealing plenty of tattoos and muscles. He set the camera down on something and walked into frame with Kalvin. No gloves on. “Hands up,” he said.

Kalvin held up his arms like he was being robbed. His dad backhanded him in the stomach. Kalvin recoiled. “This is serious. You gotta learn to fight if you want to survive in this world. Otherwise, a person like you is gonna get his ass kicked good.”

His dad leaned over him. “Knocking someone out is an art form. See, in a fight, you wanna punch at the guy's nose because his eyes will water up and then he can't see, and that's when you can really mess him up.” He put his hand on Kalvin's shoulder. Kalvin tried to brush it off, but his dad was holding him tight. “But in the street, a punch to the jaw is a better place to start; it's on a hinge, so you won't hurt your hand. Avoid hitting somebody straight to the mouth. Because when they see it coming, they're gonna scream and then you're going get some teeth in your knuckles.” He spoke from experience.

His dad faked a punch and Kalvin almost did scream. His dad shook his head, disappointed. “See? Now, listen to me, Kal. Because this is a skill you can use out there in the real world. Someone like you, a lazy no-good waste of space, you'll always be a target, but here's the good news: it's not so tough to knock someone out in one hit if you know
where
to hit. When someone gets knocked out by a punch, it's not just the impact from the hit.” He put both his hands on Kalvin's head and shook it. “It's their brain getting scrambled inside the skull from the hit.” Dad slapped him upside the head. “Of course, in your case, there might not be much to scramble.”

Kalvin was getting pissed off.

His dad cracked his neck and did some shoulder rolls to loosen up. “Surprise is the main thing. I mean if they see a punch coming, they tense up and get ready for the blow. But if it's a surprise attack, they're all relaxed and the neck is loose and
POW!
”

His dad suddenly popped him in the head. Kalvin dropped out of frame and hit the ground. His dad held his hands out flat. “How could you not see that coming after I just talked about surprise attacks?”

Kalvin tried sitting up. He was a bit woozy and holding his jaw. “Shake it off; you're OK. If I wanted you lights out, you'd be sleeping, ya feel me?”

Kalvin nodded, still dazed. “Now a hook to the side of the head is more likely to knock someone out than a straight punch to the face.” His dad acted out each punch in slo-mo. Kalvin flinched when the fist got close to his face. “If you are in front of them, an uppercut under the chin is better than a straight punch, but not as good as a hook. A good sweet spot is a hook right on the end of the dude's chin. You OK?”

Kalvin seemed unsure. “Yeah . . .”

“Good. Now let me show you the ultimate knockout punch, which is a strike to the temple. But you have to be the right height to do this, because it's gotta be
just right
to work.”

There was a jump in the video and it sped up for a minute. I could see Kalvin in fast motion getting up off the floor a couple times. Finally, it returned to normal speed.

Kalvin was hitting into his dad's hands, which he held up in front of K's face. He kept driving at him, yelling at his boy to hit harder, telling him he hit like a girl. Kalvin's face was getting all red, but that didn't stop his dad. It only got him going more. His dad pushed back every time Kalvin missed, slapping him and yelling in his face. “Come on! Put some man into it!”

I would've lost it by then. My cousin used to pretend to fight with me, and I remember wanting to pop him, but he was three years older and I never did get him back.

Sure enough, in the next moment, he caught his dad off guard and
WHAP!
Kalvin connected—I could hear the crunch of his dad's nose.

“Fuck!” his dad yelled. Kalvin had popped him pretty good, because his dad crouched down, holding his nose. He checked his hand and saw blood.

Kalvin stood there, thinking he showed his old man. His dad even smiled for a second, nodding—
now that's what I'm talking about
. But instead of clapping him on his back and calling it a day, he stood up, took two steps toward Kalvin and laid him out
cold
. The punch was so loud, it shocked me. Kalvin just dropped, the life leaving his body before it hit the ground.

His dad kneeled down and yelled into his face, “Don't you ever—!” He tried to calm himself down, but he was reeling in anger. Instead of feeling bad or carrying his son's body into the house, he hit him again in the face.

That's when my eyes bugged out. I mean, Kalvin was out cold and his dad was now beating his face raw. My gut twisted into a knot just watching it. Then he just stood up and yelled, “Next time you think about taking a pop at me, you better knock me out, because next time, there won't be a fuckin' next time!”

Then he just turned and walked into the building. The video kept running for another minute or so, and Kalvin did not move. If I hadn't seen him today, I'd have thought this kid was dead. My dad was tough. But he never hit me, never abused me. I hated him for leaving Mom, for ruining our lives, for making us leave Little Rock. But he never did anything like this.

After a minute, Kalvin started coming to, groaning and rolling on the ground. Finally, he rolled over and acted like he was gonna puke his guts out. Instead, he spat out blood. He saw something, then reached over and picked up a few teeth. Kalvin sat there for a few seconds gazing at them, running his tongue over his gums. But he didn't cry his eyes out, which I was doing just watching this. He slowly got up, stumbled toward the camera punch-drunk and laughing to himself. He got up close to the lens and smiled. He was missing his front teeth. Staring straight at the camera, he cackled, “I got you. I got you
good
.”

The video stopped and it was only then that I heard a voice yelling in the next room. It was a man, but it wasn't Kalvin.

24

I cracked the door open just enough to see Mr. Jamison in the living room. He was towering over Kalvin, who was on the couch trying to play it cool. Boner growled at the intruder.