Street Pharm (3 page)

“Ughh.”

“That lady, she made herself a junkie—I didn’t have nothing to do with it. All I do is supply her with good quality shit. The minute she decides to clean up, I’ll tell her,
Good for you, I’m prouda you.
”

“But then she won’t be your customer no more.”

“I got plenty of customers. The little ones like her don’t add up to much at the end of the week. She used to bring in other customers for me, but she don’t no more. I’d be happy if she got control of
her life.” He braked at a stop light and looked at me. “The worst thing a man can do in his life is to lose control. Take the first time I did crack. I wasn’t much older than you. Best fucking feeling I ever had, but it was too good to keep under control. So I never did it again. You get what I’m saying?”

I nodded. Never lose control.

“Ty, when people do drugs, they ain’t nothing but slaves—not to their dealers, but to the drugs. And most of the hos out there, they be slaves to the drugs
and
their pimps.”

“That’s wack.”

“Yeah, but that’s democracy. People make they own choices, even if they be stupid ones. Look at your uncle Jean. My own brother, and I can’t do nothing to stop him from killing himself. We can’t let these things get us down, Ty. Look at us. We rich, the ladies love us.” He patted my head. “Let’s get us some pizza.”

L
es Chancellor was in a chewed-up (and spit-out) East New York hood. The grass in front of the school was fenced off, I guess because they didn’t trust people not to mess it up.

When I went inside and saw the metal detectors and security guards, I knew I was at one of two places: a high school or a prison.

One security guard went through my bag. Another frisked me.

“Yo, ain’t walking through metal detectors enough?”

The guard glared at me. “You new. Let me tell you this. We doing you a favor. Get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Now if you here for nine o’clock orientation, you five minutes late.”

“At Sheepshead, we call that mad early.”

“This ain’t no regular school, son.”

“Well, maybe I’m at the wrong place.”

“Doubt it.”

*  *  *

I could get used to this place,
I thought an hour later as I walked into the classroom and zeroed in on a couple of shorties. I made eye contact with the one in the tight skirt. She smiled back, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again, giving me a peep of her panties.

Total nympho.

Another cute girl rolled her eyes and gave me a look that said,
You interrupted our class. Wipe that smile off your face and sit your ass down.

I liked her already.

The dean left me at the door. The teacher (fortyish-bald-eagle) put down his chalk. “Tyrone Johnson, is it?”

“Ty.”

“Welcome, Ty. I’m Mr. Guzman. We’ve been expecting you. A few days behind schedule, but you’ve found your way, and that’s what matters. Why don’t you take a seat behind Darius?” He pointed to a seat, third from the front, behind a guy in a Lakers jersey.

Was he playing? Third from the front! No thank you.

He saw the look on my face. “Sit there for now. If you find it uncomfortable after a few days, we’ll work out a better arrangement.”

We were gonna work out a better arrangement
after class.
I walked to my seat, checking out the posters of historical people on the walls. Famous quotes had been put up too. One was from Gandhi: “Nonviolence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind.”

Yeah, right. Put Gandhi in Brooklyn for a day.

I sat down and pulled a notebook out of my bag.

Too bad I forgot a damn pen.

Shit.
Wasn’t like me to forget nothing. But then, I hadn’t brought a pen to school in years.

“Psst.” The nympho twirled a pen between her fingers and passed it to me.

“Thanks.”

“Kristina.” She gave me a great big smile.

“Beautiful name.”

Mr. Guzman looked at me. “All set, Ty?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. We were just reviewing the causes of World War One. Jamal?”

“That guy got shot.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Uh . . . Archie something.”

“You mean Archduke Ferdinand.” Mr. Guzman wrote the name on the board. “Yes, his assassination was the immediate cause that sparked the war. What about long-term causes? Alyse?”

So that’s what her name was.
Alyse, that too-serious shorty, said, “Alliances between countries. And economic rivalries—each country wanted to have more colonies than the others.”

“Excellent.” He wrote
alliances
and
economic rivalries
on the board. “What’s another one?”

“Lots of big-ass weapons,” a guy at the back called out.

“Yes, militarism. That’s when everyone wants to build up their armies and weaponry because they know their rivals are doing the same. What’s another reason?”

Mr. Guzman waited and waited. Finally Alyse put her hand up again. “Propaganda.”

“Right. The press was full of war talk before anything ever happened. The media played a major role in raising tensions.”

“As usual,” I grumbled.

“Pardon, Ty?”

I said, “Well, that’s what TV and newspapers do—cause trouble. They always talking trash to make money.”

“There’s certainly some validity to that.”

“ ’Course there is. The news is what started that whole East Coast–West Coast thing in the nineties.”

“Hmm. Could you clarify that for us? I’m afraid I don’t know much about this East Coast–West Coast conflict.”

“You heard about Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G. being knocked off, right? Well, they was rappers from each coast, and they got offed ’cause they was at war.”

“What started this war?”

“Same kinda thing that you be talking about. They was competing to sell records, peeps was taking sides, guys on each side was strapped and hiring gangstas to back them up.”

“That’s a fascinating connection to make. So, class, if Ty is able to make such a strong comparison, what does all this tell us about the causes of war?”

“They all the same,” Nympho said.

“Not necessarily,” Alyse said. “There’s one other thing we haven’t talked about, because it doesn’t apply to World War One, but it does apply to World War Two and a few wars since. A dictator. Someone like Hitler or Stalin. Or that Serbian guy with the weird name.”

“Slobodan Milo
ević?” Mr. Guzman said. “You’ve made a good point. So we can see that wars stem from a variety of causes, from rivalries to ambitious dictators. Will there always be war, do you think?”

A guy in Blood colors shot his hand up. “War’s what humans do. Man is a savage beast.”

A Latina said, “That’s a man’s excuse. War only happens because
men
are too stupid to find another way.”

“We can’t generalize like that,” Alyse said. “World War One, yeah, I think it didn’t have to happen. But not all wars are like that. Someone like Hitler had to be stopped with violence. He wasn’t going to quit until he’d taken over the whole world and killed every Jew and other minority in it.”

Mr. Guzman scratched his cheek. “Now here’s a question. Should a country start a war because they
think
another country will come after them in the future?”

“Like what happened in Iraq?” someone asked.

“I’m saying in general.”

I put my hand up. I
had
to answer this one.

“Ty?”

“A good leader always knows his enemy’s next move, and strikes first. Think about it. Who got it made? The army that gets to the battlefield first, or second?”

Mr. Guzman’s eyes brightened.
“The Art of War.”

I nodded.

Alyse said, “That
sounds
fine, but is it really smart to go around starting wars just
in case
you think an enemy might strike against
you? Like when Bush went after Saddam Hussein. It only got more of the Arab world against him. Against us. Is it worth it to get rid of one enemy if you’re going to make lots more? I don’t think so.”

The Blood said, “Saddam needed to be taken out. We knew what we had to do, and we did it. That’s why we on top and why we staying there.”

Alyse shook her head. “That’s why America has so many enemies, because we have to be on top! What about changing our reputation so that we’re seen as a peaceful, caring country?”

“Never gonna happen,” I said.

Before she could say anything, the bell rang.

As I was packing up my books, I could tell Alyse was watching me. But when I looked up, she turned away.

I timed it so that we got to the door at the same time. Letting her go ahead of me, I said, “Sounds like you know your stuff, honey.”

“Thanks. And do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me honey.”

*  *  *

I went to all my classes that day. I ain’t done that since elementary school. After Global History, I went to Earth Science, Gym, Math, and after lunch, a double-period of English. I was done by 2 p.m.

Alyse was in all my classes except Gym and Math. She tried mad hard
not
to look at me, but I bet she was feeling me like I was feeling her. She had smooth, cocoa-brown skin, sweet pink lips, and a nice set of curves. The girl had style and class.

Too bad I wasn’t looking for no girlfriend. If Young Drug Dealers of America were real, it would have a rule:
No girlfriends.

Now I ain’t saying no sex or no homegirls. But I think
anything
that takes your attention off the business is dangerous.

My first girlfriend was a nut job named Tekeva. She spotted me one day in the park and put the word out that by the end of the day, I’d be hers. Tekeva had no problems getting me behind the clubhouse.

“Y’ever kissed before?” she asked me, hands on her hips.

“All the time.” Inside, I was shaking, but on the outside I kept my cool. “You?”

“Son, I been tonguing since the fifth grade.”

She didn’t know that I
was
in the fifth grade.

“What’s wrong with you, son? You shy or something?”

“Me?” No one ever called me shy before. I wasn’t gonna let anybody do it now. I took a step closer.

She did the rest. Grabbing my skinny shoulders, she squeezed me tight. I got all excited, feeling her little tits rub against my chest and her grape bubblegum breath in my face.

She kissed me. I tilted her head just like I seen on TV. Then she went and ruined it by opening her lips so wide, I thought I’d fall in. Her tongue shot inside my mouth.

She pulled back. “Kiss me back, dumbass!”

“I ain’t no dumbass. I’d kiss you back if you gave me the chance, bitch.”

After that, she decided I was her man. She thought she could follow me anywhere she wanted, bug me while I was playing ball, and beat up any girl who talked to me.

When I realized that cursing her out and running away wasn’t enough to get rid of her, I knew I had to do something. The problem? I didn’t hit no girls. The solution? Pay a girl to do it for me.

My cousin Keyona was fifteen years old. We called her TLM: Tall, Lean, and Mean. She said the price of beating up Tekeva was three dinners at McDonald’s. Three dinners! Since Keyona ate like a horse, that could be a lot of cash. So I got Keyona down to two dinners, and she kicked Tekeva’s ass out of my life.

All my ladies since then was Tekevas. They wanted to be Queen of the Streets, and getting a piece of Ty Johnson was part of their master plan. Well, I told these girls I wasn’t gonna be their ticket. If they wanted diamonds, go get a sugar daddy. And if they wanna get paid, go do some hustling.

You gotta be mad careful with women. Don’t make promises
you can’t keep. You use the L word and they’ll throw it back in your face. Mom is still going on about promises my dad made years ago.

Now I ain’t saying that a young hustler can’t ever have a girlfriend. But I say wait until you’re twenty-one, get her tested for all the diseases you can think of
and
some shit you never heard of, and set her up right. When I’m twenty-one, I’ll have time for a girlfriend. Until then, I’m staying away.

T
uesday I went to my first two classes, cut out to make a delivery, and came back for English. This school was supposed to be all that with its big alarmed doors and guards, but I knew its weak spot: the door behind the cafeteria used by the lunch workers.

English class was in a hot room in the basement with no windows. Ms. Amullo tried to make it brighter by putting posters over puke-yellow bulletin boards and fake flowers on her desk. Too bad it didn’t work.

During the silent reading time, I put up my hand.

Ms. Amullo stopped beside me. “What can I do for you, Tyrone?”

“This play is mad boring. Don’t you have something better than Shakespeare?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to live with it for the moment because it’s required reading. But if you finish ahead of the class, you can use your silent reading time for something more interesting if you like. Do you see what Alyse is reading?”