Knockout Games by G. Neri Page B

you,” K said. “What’re you doing?”
    I was trying to think of an excuse, but my mind was blank. “Walking home from school.”
    â€œHmm.” There was silence on the other end. “School.”
    â€œHow are you?” I asked. So lame.
    â€œHow am I? I’m just wondering where you been. At first I figured maybe I had scared you off or something.”
    I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.”
    There was a pause on his end. “Then I thought maybe you didn’t like kissing me or something.”
    My face felt hot. “No. . . I—I like that part.”
    It was true.
    â€œGood. ’Cause my Boner misses you.”
    â€œ What? ”
    â€œMy dog, Erica. What were you thinking?”
    I smiled. Bad joke. Still . . .
    I heard him sigh. “So, is it those neighborhood watchers and the rally and all that?”
    â€œWell . . .” I hesitated. “It did kinda throw me.”
    He paused for a beat. “Like I said, don’t worry about that, I have an idea how to take care of them.”
    Images of Kalvin shooting Joe Lee flashed through my head.
    â€œWater balloons,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s Friday. They’re having their Knockout Violence! rally tonight, right? I had this idea maybe we could hang on top of my building and give them a real St. Louis welcome.”
    Water balloons ? “Really?” I asked.
    â€œYeah, why not? It’ll show the media that we’re just a bunch of kids having fun. What’s more kidlike than a water balloon fight?”
    â€œWe could use pies,” I suggested. I’d seen that on TV.
    â€œPies,” he scoffed. “Too messy. Plus, we’d have to be on the ground. This way, they won’t see it coming. So, you in?”
    Water balloons I could deal with. “I guess.”
    â€œShe guesses,” he said off phone to someone else. “Whatever. Be at my house at seven. Afterwards, maybe we could do something . . . else, ” he added, suggestively.
    â€œLike what?” I asked, all innocent.
    â€œWell, you haven’t shown me those drawings you done. Maybe I could come over. . . .”
    Fat chance. “We’ll see. . . .”
    â€œYeah, we will,” he said. “Lates.”
    He hung up. I was still blushing.

19
    The night air was cold and crisp, so we could hear the noise from a couple blocks away. A man’s voice on a bullhorn: “It’s time to stand up and fight for your rights! What do we want?” Then the response: “Justice!”
    â€œWhen do we want it?”
    â€œNow!”
    I had my camera out when me and Destiny turned the corner, and the first thing I saw was about sixty people huddled in front of the church on the corner. Joe Lee was on top of the church steps. Standing behind him, Mrs. Lee was scanning the crowd nervously.
    When Joe leaned over and whispered in her ear, I wondered how much she was like him, or maybe, he was like her and I just didn’t see it. She leaned into his ear and seemed worried about something. He nodded and stroked her arm trying to ease her concerns. Finally, he raised his bullhorn and spoke.
    â€œSt. Louis was once one of America’s most beautiful cities,” he said. “Beautiful brick buildings, a glorious history in baseball, and the Gateway Arch. Am I right? Now, it’s known as one of America’s most dangerous cities.”
    He scanned the crowd, saw people nodding. “These seemingly random attacks are going on in our own neighborhoods—and the perps are not just a bunch of gangbangers whose after school programs have been cut or can’t find work to keep them busy. This is about boredom and violence, and how violence is the only thing that snaps these kids out of their video game stupor. And the sad truth is, it’s only our black youth that are playing the Knockout Game, attacking white victims and getting away with it because