Tryouts
Rico, age 17
My chest was aching, but I wasn’t stopping. I just kept pumping my arms and legs, running as fast as I could with a heavy ass backpack full of shit no minor should have.
I shouldn’t have even been running. A cop could have picked us up, and we fasho would have been going to adult jail.
But Peanut man. That muthafucka Peanut. He thought of everything.
Including having Shad hack into the Kenton Police Department and infecting their entire network with malware.
It was day two of mayhem all around the city. Which coincided with Labor Day weekend, a long weekend.
And the Tryouts that Peanut had been planning all fucking year.
Tryouts into that dumb ass secret club he, Set, Shad, and Turkey were in. Opening it up to every high schooler in South Kenton, somehow getting flyers posted online and in person.
Fifty niggas showed up to the Birch courts the afternoon before, most of them from our neighborhood.
Once he explained niggas would likely die, half of them left right then.
Four left after Peanut took pictures of us, in case we came up missing, leaving twenty-one niggas dumb enough to entertain Peanut.
By the next morning, only fourteen niggas made it back to the community center. Most of us were bloodied. Shad was clutching his stomach like the baby he was, while Sean couldn’t stop shaking.
So it was day two. And we were onto our next task. KPD had issued mandatory curfews, but no one was listening.
The city was lawless. And by the way Peanut was cackling as we ran out of Filipino Town, I figured that was just what he wanted.
“There it is!” he yelled, and pointed at some stairs leading to the underground metro station.
We booked it across the street, damn near flying as we jumped down the stairs. I couldn’t focus on the group of Manila Boys who were gunning for us, ready to split our heads open.
I mean, we did steal something important from them, but still.
We made it to the train, going through the cars until we got to the front.
We only sat down when it pulled off, and only then did I let myself take a full fucking breath.
“Nigga… you’re… a nut,” I pushed out.
Peanut folded his fingers on top of his head, smushing his wild ass hair. He pushed out a laugh before wiping his head with his shirt.
“And you looney, on Baby. Where should we get off?”
“This the blue line, so Proctor and Zelkova. It’s an arcade we can stop at, and we can call someone to come get us, unless yo ass got another test up yo sleeve.”
I arched my brow at my Ace, but he just waved me off. “Nah. Shad’s virus only lasted until six, so one time prolly up and at ‘em. Besides, I plan on drilling whoever survives anyway, so fuck it.”
“You a wild one. Do Turkey’s Granddad know you bringing his tests to life?”
Peanut shrugged, before he grinned. “He not dumb, and he knows Turkey gon’ be straight, just like I know all my day ones gon’ be straight. The wild cards are the stragglers wanting to be down with P-Nutty.”
I shook my head and leaned back in that hard ass seat. “When we get to the arcade, we can see where everybody at.”
“Fasho.”
Thirty minutes later, we were seated in the corner of the arcade with some chips.
The arcade itself was closed, for the curfew, but I’d fucked with one of the managers, so I knew how to get inside the backdoor.
We were huddled in the booth, praying the cameras were for show, grateful we had somewhere semi safe to regroup.
Only…
“Set’s phone is still off,” Peanut gritted.
I wasn’t doing no better. Fredo’s shit was ringing and ringing. Peanut wouldn’t tell us what each others’ tasks were. All I could figure out was we were each in groups, sent to different parts of the city, to either rob or kill someone high up or at the top of another gang.
Day one, Peanut was with Shad and Fade. I was with Sean and Fredo. He switched it up for day two, but since Fade dropped out because his girlfriend went into labor, Peanut was with me.
My day two task: murk Martin Aquino, head of the Manila Boys. For proof, I had to steal his notorious gun collection, painted in the colors of the Filipino flag.
I couldn’t believe we pulled it off. But as hard as that was, getting into his crib and snuffing him out, and making it back to our side, I was scared for what else Peanut had up his sleeve for the others.
“What about anyone else?”
“Everyone’s phone is off. Straight to voicemail. Fredo not answering?”
“Nah–”
“Hello?! Rico?!”
Peanut moved closer. I called Fredo’s burner, but it fasho wasn’t Fredo who answered.
“Who dis?!” Peanut barked into the phone.
“Turk, nigga! Big muthafuckin’ Turk, the way I just got on these Six-Owe-Tre eses! The fuck y’all at?!”
“Maaaaan,” Peanut grinned, “we deep in the Dirus, Dub. At that arcade off Proctor. And we just ran from Little Philippines. We was hoping–”
“Fuck all that. Why you got my brother’s phone?”
“We must have grabbed the wrong one. It’s been a long fuckin’ night, Dub. I ain’t seen Fredo and them since we left the Galleria.”
“Aight, well, we need you–”
“FUCK! Ay, let me out here and go get them niggas. Ay, they coming, but it’s hot as fuck right now, so I wouldn’t wait around. I’d try to get off Proctor. Them Dirus acting a fool. Take that first street and walk south.”
Turk clicked in our faces, and we knew if we tried to call back, his phone would be off too.
“I bet you ain’t think everyone else would get in where they fit in, huh?” I mugged him.
“We the hardest niggas in this fucking city, Dub. We warriors for a fuckin’ reason, so I don’t give a fuck about no one else. Check them fuckin’ MAC-11s and let’s go.”
Nigga shot up, having a mini tantrum, because he knew I was right. This shit was borderline ridiculous.
I ain’t know Shad was a beast like that with coding.
We made it to the next street over with no issue, and began the trek south, with our backpacks on our chests. It was the dead of night over here, on the other side of Proctor Boulevard, but we were still in the Tree Street Piru territory, and we were a long ass way from home.
The only reason I thought to call Fredo was because he knew how to hotwire a car, so I knew he’d have one. Technically, we could only use ourselves. No outside help at all. But Turk picking up was still cool, since he was paired up with Ty-Ty, who also knew how to hotwire a car.
I could drive, but I always got the wires switched up. And Peanut swore he couldn’t interfere.
I did everything for my task. The nigga was basically moral support.
“How far you think they is?” Peanut asked as we crossed Nettletree Street.
“Shit, hopefully close. It’s been like thirty minutes.”
“Man. They should be. They was only in South East.”
“South East?” I couldn’t help but whine. “The fuck was they doing in South East?!”
“Six-Owe-Tres, taking OG Six Ball’s new Wrangler. Ty-Ty already hit up a chop shop that’ll be discreet in repainting it, and then I’ma let him have it for his troubles.”
My face scrunched up before I shook my head. “Leave it to yo ass to be backhanded.”
“What can I say?” he cheesed, before his eyes shifted in front of us and he let out a curse.
An Altima skirted onto the curb in front of us, not even stopping before the front and back passenger doors opened.
“You Birch bitches a long way from home,” this bitch ass nigga Reggie gritted.
Low on the totem pole, but killing P-Nutty and Luney would damn near crown him king.
“Nigga, fuck–”
The hairs on the back of my neck went ramrod straight, just as I noticed a navy blue wrangler raised up on monster truck wheels, barrelling toward us.
I fisted Nutty’s shirt on his shoulder, and pulled us out of the way, just as the wrangler plowed into the altima, and them niggas.
I mean, plowed.
Kept going, running into the gate, whipping around at the last second to miss the house, and roll back onto the street.
A whoop rang out of the car, before Ty-Ty stuck his head out. “Let’s go! We got incoming!” he yelled, grinning like we were in a video game.
Peanut and I got off the ground and boosted ourselves up into the back, before the car spun around and we were flying back from where they came.
“Autumn?! The fuck?!” Peanut yelled, just as I took in the girl, Snow’s sister, in the driver’s seat.
“P-p-please, shut up,” she stammered, as she switched gears. I ain’t even know people still learned to drive stick, besides Ty-Ty.
“Where Turk?!”
“Shit, prolly at the Center by now. Y’all heard me? I said we got incoming.” Ty-Ty looked back and grinned again before showing us some shit that definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of civilians.
Peanut was in awe. “The fuck you get that?”
“Shit was in the fuckin’ trunk! Aight, Autumn. You got this shit, mamas. Don’t take yo’ fuckin’ foot off that gas!”
I looked over the center console and saw what the hell had my cousin so hyped, before cutting my eyes to Peanut.
“You sat the fuck down for the rest of the year,” I muttered, as Ty-Ty opened the sunroof and climbed up.
Peanut waved me off as we rolled down the windows. I handed Ty-Ty the rocket launcher from the front seat before hanging out the window and letting it rip.
Autumn started screaming as them Piru niggas began shooting back, but at least the windshield was bulletproofed.
Ty-Ty pulled his trigger and screamed, “Now, Autumn! MAKE A LEFT!”
She swerved hard as hell, getting us on two wheels, blowing through the light as we turned left on Hemlock. The ground shook as Ty-Ty hit his target, and we knew they wouldn’t be coming for us.
He took his time coming back inside the car, his shirt blackened from smoke, and one sleeve blooming with fresh blood.
“I think I got grazed. FUCK! I wanted this car bad. Take us to the riverwalk, mamas. We gotta torch it.” Nigga had the nerve to be looking out the window, sulking.
“I ain’t know you had whips like that, Autumn. You damn near need a hood name,” Peanut cackled. “Maybe Whips.”
“Nah,” Ty-Ty chuckled, “fasho should be something wild, like ‘Wrangler.’”