Brooklyn 1975 Page 4

  Junior and I were sitting on the bench drinking and watching the girls dance when I noticed something moving in the shadows along the path. Someone was watching us. It was just getting dark and I couldn’t make out who or what it was. I poked Junior and told him to look. What is it?” I asked?

  “Probably a bear.” Junior said. He was about to laugh when three or four black kids emerged from the shadows. I told the girls to sit down on the bench and when they saw the other kids approaching they sat quickly. Junior and I stood in the middle of the pathway. “If there’s a problem, just hit the biggest one.” Junior said.

  As they got closer, we could tell they were looking for trouble. They weren’t talking to each other but instead they were eyeing us, sizing us up. “Think they’re strapped?” I said.

  “Too late now.” Junior said shrugging. “But one thing, I wish I didn’t have these shoes on.” The kids sauntered up to us. There was an unwritten science to these encounters. Everything was being measured. The tangible things were weighed as well as the intangibles. How big was the other kid? And more importantly, what did his face say?

  Junior spoke first. “Need something?” He asked, his tone implying that he wasn’t in the mood just now to be giving anything up.

  The kids stopped in front of him, not saying anything. I watched their hands, waiting for a clenched fist or worse. “Than keep fucking walking.” Junior said. They looked at each other before moving off. When they were a safe distance away, one turned and yelled “Fucking Italian boys, shit”

  Erica had a hand on my arm as if to say, don’t say anything. I didn’t. “Fucking right. And you know better, so just keep walking.” Junior yelled. Then he turned to us and said. “That was racial stereotyping, right?” The girls both laughed, more out of relief than anything.

  I knew that Junior would just as soon fought with them as go to the prom. I mean, it wasn’t like the choice appeared in his head that way but just the same. What scared me more was that I probably was no different. I mean, this situation was weird in a way and frankly by trying to avoid trouble, we would have encouraged those kids to attack us.

  “Let’s go to the prom already.” Marty said.

  “Let’s smoke a little more and finish our beers.” Junior said. “I need to relax a little, I’ve just been stereotyped.”

  “You just were almost killed.” Marty said.

  “I doubt that.” And after Junior I added a half-hearted “Yeah.”

  “Forget it already, will you” Erica said. “Let’s smoke more and go. Before those kids come back with their friends. Crazy stuff happens here at night. Don’t you read the papers?”

  “I read like three papers every day.” Junior said while holding a joint in the air. “And smoke a couple of them, too.”

  “What a goon.” But Erica was laughing again and we all got high.

  We walked to Tavern on the Green paired off in couples with Junior and Marty walking behind us. We were pretty stoned and talking quietly. I slid my hand down the front of Erica’s dress and for a minute, or so, she let me fondle her. It was soft in there and warmer than my hand. She reached up and kissed my neck and whispered to me, “Wait till later.” I took my hand out of her dress and wrapped her shoulder tight, cuffing her with my arm. I could hear Marty laughing at something Junior was saying. “That was scary, wasn’t it?” Erica said. I was sort of daydreaming and didn’t say anything. “Don’t be a tough guy. Admit you were scared.” I though about it some more in that hazy way you think when you’re high. ”I mean, I wasn’t actually scared, I’d been in a lot of situations like that and mostly you don’t even have time to think. Things happen fast, just like tonight. One minute you’re sitting minding your own business, the next you’re squared off with some guys you don’t know. Or sometimes, with guys you do.

  “I wasn’t scared. We really didn’t have a choice, did we? I mean, we didn’t start it, they were the ones looking for trouble.”

  I could feel Erica’s hand gliding down the back of my jacket. “Yeah, I know. In that case you did what you had to. But don’t you wish that we lived somewhere where everyone wasn’t in everyone’s face all the time. It sounds stupid, I know, but I’m tired of it.”

  “It’s New York, Erica. What do you want? You want to live somewhere else? You’d go crazy. We all would. You want to live out in the country or something, on a farm?”

  “I’m thinking more about going away to college, I guess.”

  “Your still have another year, though. What’s the rush?

  “Well, you have to plan these things. Apply to schools, you know.” I guess I did but didn’t really. I didn’t really think about thinks like that. I just took each day as it came, for better or worse.

  Erica said, “I have to pee.” I shook my head. “Me too.”

  Outside Tavern on the Green a boy was sitting on the ground, his face was bleeding, and several teachers surrounded him. Junior went over to see what was going on. I stayed with the girls and watched. I could see that the boy had no shoes on. I already knew what had happened. Those kids we met had jumped him after passing us up.

  “See, Erica. I was right.” She looked away and taking Marty by the arm, went inside. “We’ll meet you inside. We need the ladies room.”

  Junior walked back shaking his head, “They stole his fucking shoes, can you believe that? Took his wallet, everything. We should have kicked the shit out of them. Fucking niggers.”

  “Don’t say that when Marty is around.” I said. But I agreed with him. I mean, what the fuck.

  “I’m not talking about their color, I’m talking about the way they act. That’s bullshit.”

  Some kid came over to us. He was already drunk and staggering a bit. “You guys going to take care of this?” He asked. “We could go after them, or something.” I told the kid to fuck off and Junior just stood there not saying anything. The kid just stood there with us like he was deaf.

  “You heard him, or what?” Junior said. “Fuck off.”

  “Come on Junior, let’s go inside. The girls are in there already.”

  “That’s a prom that kid will remember for the rest of his life.”

  “Or at least until the sneaker prints on his face heal up.” I said.

  We walked inside and a lot of kids were looking at us, just like when we were at school. I bet a lot of things they heard about us were dead wrong but what could you do. I smiled at the girls and looked through the boys, straight through them until they turned away. Not that I was being unfriendly or anything, but we did have an image to maintain. “Would you look at this place,” Junior said. “It’s amazing.”

  “This is only the lobby, Junior.”

  Erica must have snuck up behind me because I could feel her hands on my hips. She was starting in with those dance moves again. Marty appeared too in the crowded lobby. She looked like a movie star, or something. Some of our teachers were trying to get us all in one of the big rooms where the prom was being held. Mr. Classic was there too. When he saw Junior and me he came over and smiled at the girls and said to us, so anyone in earshot could hear “Behave yourselves tonight, guys. This is a big night for all of us.” I nodded and Junior just looked away. “Did you hear me, Junior?”

  “What? We’re here to have a good time, just like everyone else.” Junior said, managing to look aggrieved by the suggestion that his name and trouble were being used in the same sentence. With that, Mr. Classic turned on his heels and walked away.

  “Asshole.” Junior muttered.

  “Classic asshole.”

  “Let’s go dance.” Marty said.

  We all walked into a big room. It was decorated with streamers and hand-made signs. Teachers and some parents stood off in the shadows against the walls like shy kids without dates. What do they call them, wallflowers? They were the chaperones, I guess. A cop was there, too, in case these unruly kids from Brooklyn became unruly. A banner was strung across a small stage in the front of the room. It said “Brooklyn 1975.” T
he music was blaring and a lot of kids were dancing already. Junior pulled Marty into the crowd and disappeared. Erica was tugging at me, wanting to follow them but I wasn’t quite ready yet. One of the things I liked about Junior was that he was always confident. I know that a lot of that had to do with the fact that he didn’t think things through, but still. Me, I was confident too, but sometimes I wasn’t exactly sure what to be confident about. I thought about things too much.

  As we stood there, some kid named Betty that worked for Junior and me at school selling pot came over and extended his hand. Money was rolled into his fist and I took it and pocketed it. Betty was huge. He played on the football team with me. His real name was Michael DiBenadetto but everyone called him Betty.

  “Sold out. Everything.” He said, ignoring Erica. “Everyone here is fucking stoned out of their minds.”

  Erica looked at us both and shook her head. “I’m going to dance by myself.”

  I went to grab her but she was gone. I looked at Betty and shrugged. He shrugged back, not knowing what to say.

  “Look, I’ll catch you later.”

  “No problem.”

  I wandered through the crowd looking for Erica. Some girl that was always smiling at me at school danced in front of me and extended her hand. “You going to dance with me tonight?” She asked. I was tempted but said no. “Maybe, later.” Before I could move away from her, she hugged me and pushed her hips against mine. I found Erica not far away and she was glaring at me.

  “Who was that girl that kissed you?”

  “She didn’t kiss me.”

  “Oh really? I was standing here watching the whole thing. She kissed you.”

  “This is stupid, Erica. She didn’t kiss me. I was just out here looking for you. She’s some girl from school. Come on, let’s dance.” I took her by the shoulders and tried to sway her from side to side. Her body was rigid and her chin was down and she wasn’t looking at me.

  “Come on, Erica. Really, this is stupid.” I knew better than to push too hard. If she got really mad, it was going to be a short night. Luckily, I could feel her relaxing and soon her head was nestled against my chest.

  We danced like that for a while until I felt someone pinch my ass. I looked up and it was Junior. “What the fuck.” I said. “What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem in the world. Not tonight, anyway.” We talked like this while we danced with the girls between us. I told him Betty came over with the money.

  “How much?” He asked.

  “I wasn’t going to stand there and count it. It looked like enough.” Junior motioned to me with his finger, wanting me to get closer to him. I guided Erica closer until her ass was touching Marty’s. They both recoiled and we all laughed. After a while, the music stopped and Mr. Classic was on the stage with a microphone. All the kids, or most of them, anyway, booed.

  “Quiet, please. Can I have your attention, please?” No one stopped talking and some kids in the back of the room were starting a chant “Fuck you.” “Fuck you.”

  “Quiet, please. Come on, people. We have some business to attend to here and the sooner we get finished with it, the sooner the music is turned back on.” It began to quiet down. “First off, I’d like to thank the teachers and parents who are here as chaperones tonight. Let’s hear it for them.” There was a chorus of boos and some kids clapped. Hidden behind one of her elbows, I massaged the side of Erica’s breast, while she clapped. She locked my hand in place with her arm and glared at me. I shrugged back at her like I wasn’t aware of what I was doing.

  “Secondly, I’d like to congratulate the Prom Committee and all the students and teachers who worked so hard to make this night possible.” Erica applauded and I went back to massaging her breast again. “Would you stop that, people can see what you are doing.”

  Some kid, who was probably drunk, fell over near the stage. Mr. Classic frowned and motion for someone to pick the kid up and take him outside. “With that.” He gestured at the kid being led out of the room. “I should remind you that there is no alcohol allowed on the premises. Is that understood? Anyone found drinking here tonight will be sent home immediately and will be meeting me in my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Again, from the back of the room the chant started again. “Fuck you.” “Fuck you.”

  “If I need to, I’ll have the lights turned on and remove anyone who is ruining the night for everyone.” Some kid yelled, “Shut up.” He was grabbed by a teacher standing near by and pulled out of the crowd by his arm. We could hear him protesting. “I meant for the kids to shut up, not the principal.” Everyone laughed. Even some of the teachers were shaking their heads or covering their mouths with their hands. “I’m serious.” We could hear the kid complaining. “I was trying to help.”

  “It is now my pleasure to crown the Queen of this year’s prom. She has been chosen by you the students by a vote this evening.” Mr. Classic droned on. I didn’t realize that a vote was taking place and said as much to Erica. “I would have voted for you, had I known.” I said. Erica didn’t answer. Girls love this sort of thing and she wasn’t paying any attention to me.

  “And the winner is, envelope please.” Finally the room was totally quiet. “And the winner of this year’s Prom Queen is… Martinique Miguela Artes.”

  “Marty won!” I heard Junior yell. Everyone was clapping as Marty made her way to the stage. Under the lights on the stage I could see a blush crossing her face. Mr. Classic put a tiara on her head and holding the microphone to her face asked “And who is the King. Who is your date tonight, Martinique?”

  Pandemonium broke out. “Junior! Junior!” The kids were going crazy. Everyone was yelling and stamping their feet. You could see the disgust on Mr. Classic’s face. Or maybe it was disappointment. It was something, though, because he wasn’t pleased. I remember something from one of my classes about democracy being a messy business and this was a good example of that, if you were Mr. Classic.

  Junior joined Marty on stage and gave her a big, theatrical kiss. Mr. Classic jumped down off the little stage before any photographs could be taken. Erica and I watched and I whispered to her that she was my Prom Queen.

  “And you’re my King.” She said, “ But don’t push it, your Highness”

  Junior was still up there, celebrating like a boxer who just won a big fight. Marty was glowing and becoming prettier by the second. I almost couldn’t bear to look.

  Soon the music was back on and everyone was dancing again. I watched as Erica gave Marty a big hug and stood there waiting my turn. I was happy for her and for Junior, too. When Erica let her go, I reached out to her, my arms swinging in front of me awkwardly. “Come here, you.” I said. “Congratulations.” My hands set off by themselves; first they perched on her shoulders, then they roamed across her back before finally locking fingers and pulling her against me. She didn’t notice anything, or at least I don’t think she did. It probably was all in my head because Erica was right there and didn’t say anything.

  We danced for hours, it seemed, before the lights came on, signaling the end of the prom. I looked over at Junior and his shirt was completely soaked with sweat. He had lipstick on his face and his sash was turned around so that only the clasps were in the front of him by his belt buckle. Everyone looked bedraggled. Eyeliner had run down Erica’s face, creating three black lines like rivers on a map. I wiped at them with my thumb but only managed to smear the lines. “You better go to the bathroom before we leave and wash your face, Erica.” I said. “Your make up is dripping.”

  “Dripping?”

  “Yeah, like running. Like when it’s raining out.”

  Erica grabbed Marty by the arm and pulled her off to the bathroom. Junior came over and put his arm around me. “So?’