Gang Tackle by Eric Howling Page B

any fear. He kept his face calm. He knew he had something the man wanted. Speed.
    “What for?” Jamal asked.
    “Little of this, little of that.” The man crossed his arms and smiled.
    Now that he was closer, Jamal saw another tattoo. SS CREW was inked on the man’s neck. He had seen the marking before. He wished he never had. His father had the same tattoo needled into the side of his neck. It stood for Southside Crew. They were the biggest gang on the Southside.
    Jamal knew they were into a long list of bad things, all of them against the law. Theft. Drugs. Gambling. Violence. He knew the last one could be deadly. His own dad had been gunned down in cold blood, killed by a rival gang as payback. The East Side Roaches had accused the SS Crew of stealing from them. His dad had nothing to do with the crime, but it didn’t matter. Someone from SS Crew had to pay. And that someone was his dad. The memory was still seared in Jamal’s brain. It had happened a year ago, but to Jamal it seemed like just last week.
    “What do you say?” the man with the tattoo asked.
    Jamal knew these guys were bad news, but still he was curious. “What’s in it for me?”
    “Money,” the man said. “More money than you can dream of.”
    Jamal wondered how much. His mom worked a cash register at Best Buy. She made enough to put food on the table and pay the rent, but there was nothing left over. He worked flipping burgers at McDonald’s two nights a week. He earned a few bucks for buying lunch in the school cafeteria, but not much more. He never had money for a new hoodie or kicks.
    “How much money?”
    “Ten large.”
    Jamal let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of coin.”
    “You know it, dawg.”
    Jamal imagined what he and his mom could do with ten thousand dollars. New clothes, a new TV , maybe even a new car. It could change their lives. He took a deep breath and tried to think straight. He knew getting involved with a gang was a mistake. It could only lead to one thing—trouble. But still.
    “I’m not interested,” Jamal said, shaking his head.
    “You sure, kid?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” He smiled for the first time, revealing a shiny gold tooth. “Just look for the car. It’s one of a kind.” The man climbed back into the lowrider. “Let’s roll, Martinez.”
    Ice Cube started rapping again. The driver bounced the car up. He stepped on the gas and the engine growled. Jamal watched the Chevy pull out of the parking lot. He checked the license plate— SS CREW1 .

Chapter Three
    Jamal stretched out his long legs. He slouched at a desk in the back of his Language Arts class. Mrs. Cooper stood at the front. She held a small paperback in her hand and scowled at the students.
    “Who’s done their homework?”
    The class was silent.
    “Who’s read the first chapter I assigned?
    No one raised a hand.
    “Who’s even opened the book?”
    Still no answer.
    Mrs. Cooper marched down the aisle. She came to a stop and crossed her arms. “Darnell, you look like a strong guy. Were you able to pick up the book? Or was it too heavy?” She waved the thin paperback around to show how light it was.
    “I must have hurt my arm playing football.” He smiled. “I wasn’t able to lift it.”
    The teacher looked around the room. “Carlos…Eli…Jamal, how about you?”
    Only Carlos spoke. “We all got injured playing ball as well.”
    “I didn’t think we had a football team,” Mrs. Cooper said, eyeing Carlos suspiciously.
    “We don’t.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “But you know how rough touch football can be.”
    “And what about Rico? Isn’t he supposed to be in this class?”
    “Aah…I think he’s sick,” Jamal said.
    Eli nodded. “Yeah, sick of school.” Jamal, Carlos and the rest of the class all snickered.
    Mrs. Cooper put her hands on her hips. “Well, if you’re not going to read at home, then I’m going to make you read in class.