If I joined, it would make the rest of my high school days a helluva lot easier. I wouldn’t have to worry about people coming after me, since I would have the protection of the toughest kids around. I could walk with my head up. No fear.
Was it worth selling my soul to feel safe?
But I wouldn’t be selling my soul. I knew that now. If I joined, I wouldn’t have to participate in every single thing the gang was up to. The girls made me realize that gang members still had choices of their own and didn’t have to get involved in every beef, every hustle, every bit of daily drama, just like they didn’t have to go to every meeting or every party. I could be Crip, and what that meant would be up to me.
Still, I hesitated.
I hesitated because of the exit clause.
There wasn’t one.
Once you’re in, you’re in. The girls made no secret of that.
The only official way out is to get jumped out. The last person who got jumped out got himself a broken jaw and a C carved into his back with a razor blade.
If I was going to join, I had to commit to it—at least till I was done with high school. After that, the girls said, I could move on, like if I wanted to go off to college. I’d always have friends when I came back to Brooklyn, though. I’d be Crip alumni.
I liked the idea of having friends to come back to. Friends who would always be there and who wouldn’t walk away if things got complicated.
Yeah, I’d made my decision. I pulled the cord to get off the bus.
SCRAP
I rang the doorbell of a Flatbush Avenue town house.
Black Chuck answered the door. His eyes bugged out.
“What you doing here? We got a meeting.”
“Then you answered your own question. I want to join, Chuck.”
“What? Look, Ju, let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
He actually tried to close the door in my face. I blocked it with my arm.
“I’m serious. I want to ask Scrap what it takes to join.”
“Why?”
“Do you have to ask why?”
A voice yelled from the kitchen, “Who dat?”
“Julia!” I called back, trying to get past him.
Black Chuck stopped me with his body. His eyes were inches from mine. “I asked why.”
“Because I need you guys. I’ve got nobody else.”
He let me pass. Scrap was in the kitchen drinking beer, a curvy twenty-something on his lap.
“Julia!” He swatted the girl’s ass, then got up and hugged me real close. He didn’t ask what I was doing there. I guess he knew. He looked me over and smiled, his grill silver and gold.
“Julia?” Eric had come up from the basement, spliff in hand. “What are you doing here?”
“Ain’t it clear?” Scrap said. “Go back downstairs. We about to start the meeting.”
Eric shot me a confused look, then went downstairs. The rest of us followed him.
I hadn’t been in this basement for years. It had changed a lot. Torn-up couches and a small, crackly TV had been replaced with sleek leather couches and a huge plasma screen. A pool table was set up, and there was a marble bar in the corner stacked with liquor.
There were about twenty people in the room. Nessa and Jazz were there, big smiles on their faces. I squeezed onto the couch between Eric and Rolo. Eric didn’t look at me.
He was pissed off. But why? I was going to be with him one hundred percent now. We could share everything.
Maybe he was just upset that I’d taken him by surprise. Well, he didn’t consult me when he’d joined the FJC. He, of all people, should understand that I had to make this decision myself.
Scrap stood up and everybody went quiet. “As you can see, we got ourselves a WB.”
A wannabe member.
Me.
Everybody looked at me. I had the sudden, inexplicable urge to run.
What am I doing?
“Some of you know Julia, some don’t,” Scrap said. “Let’s give her props for showing up.”
To my surprise, people leaned over and pounded palms with me, smiled at me, kissed my cheeks. I felt myself relax.
Scrap said, “You see, Julia, we can’t really have the meeting with a WB here, but we can talk about you joining. Brother Chuck, why don’t you say something about Julia?”
Black Chuck was sitting on the arm of a chair. “Julia is a mad good friend, and mad loyal.”
He sounded reluctant, but in the end, he’d supported my membership.
Thank you, Chuck. I smiled at him.
Somebody said, “She’s smart at school. Teachers like her. We can always use low-key peeps like that.” I turned my head. Holy shit—it was George Vaughn talking, honors student and student council member! I’d never seen him with the Crips.
George winked at me.
He was a Sleeper.
I’d had no idea.
Scrap said, “Eric?”
“They don’t come any better than Julia.” Eric looked at me, his eyes unreadable.
Scrap turned my way. “The way I see it, you been almost-Crip for years now. But you gotta do two things to get in. One is to memorize our codes and pass a test. Chuck or Eric will help you with that later. The other is to choose a member to induct you.”
I’d heard about induction, aka getting jumped in. This was the part where I let somebody kick my ass around. I was surprised that I’d actually be able to choose who would do it.
Rolo said, “I bet she never had that cherry popped, yo!”
What was he talking about? I looked around for an explanation.
The Crips laughed.
“You gotta fuck a Crip, Julia,” Scrap said. “That’s how we induct the ladies.”
I froze. The girls never warned me about this!
“Chill, Julia,” Scrap said, grinning. “You can choose who, but it can’t be somebody you fucked before. I recommend my OG ass.”
“I choose Eric,” I said.
Everybody scoffed.
“Yeah, right!”
“Not fair!”
“Fucking her man is no induction!”
I felt my heart pounding in my throat. This could not be happening.
Run. I still had a chance to run.
“We haven’t fucked yet,” Eric said. “It’s true.”
“Come on, Scrap,” Black Chuck said. “We can’t prove they did it or not. Let her choose Eric.”
“Yeah, let her have her man.” It was Jazz.
Eric stared at Scrap. “My girl ain’t gonna fuck anybody else.”
“A’ight, a’ight,” Scrap said. “It’ll be Eric. Go upstairs now. Eric, I’ll catch you up on the meeting later.”
Eric grabbed my hand and we went upstairs to the kitchen, where he put his arms around me and hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said against my hair. “It was a big mistake.”
I pulled out of his arms. “If you can be a part of this, why can’t I?”
“You don’t belong here and you know it.”
“News flash, Eric. I don’t belong anywhere anymore. My friends ditched me. The RLB still wants to kick my ass. I need to be a Crip now.”
“Fine.” He grabbed my hand and practically yanked me up the stairs to the first bedroom on the right. “This is the induction room. Is this what you want?”
The room was bare except for an old dresser and a mattress with a couple of rumpled sheets on it.
“They’ve got a room especially for this?” I asked.
“Used to be their mom’s bedroom.” Eric closed the door behind us.
I sat down on the bed and started to cry. “I can’t do it this way. . . .”
He put an arm around me. “I know, Julia. I was just making a point. I wouldn’t do it with you here if you begged me. This room is disgusting.”
I couldn’t stop crying.
“Shhh . . . it’s okay. We’ll say we did it. We’ll mess up each other’s hair and
shit. Got me?”
“I got you.”
PREP
When the sky is gray . . .”
“. . . it’s Crip day,” I finished.
Black Chuck had appointed himself my Crip tutor. We sat in the A-raab place, our burgers and fries finished ages ago.
“You’re doing good, Ju. Here’s another one. What have you got in the fridge?”
“Blueberries and milk.”
“Good. Summer is Blood or Crip time?”
“Summer is Blood season, winter is Crip season.”
“What would I find in your closet?”
“A witch holding a glass of milk.”
“Good. What color is your blood?”
“It’s blue, but when it hits oxygen it turns red.”
“No wonder you do so good in school. You got a great memory. I’ll tell Scrap you’re ready for the test anytime.”
“I hope you’re right.”
THIS IS ONLY A TEST
The test took place in Black Chuck’s kitchen. Scrap was smoking weed. He offered me some. I took a drag, but couldn’t help coughing it out.
“Ready?” Smoke streamed from his nostrils.
I nodded.
He asked question after question. I aced them all. But then he asked, “Who started the Crips?”
“Tookie Williams.” Thank God I’d seen the movie Redemption.
“Right, Stan Tookie Williams. Who started it with him?”
Shit! I didn’t know this.
“Well?”
“I didn’t know I had to study that.”
“The answer is Raymond Lee Washington. Died in seventy-nine.”
I wrung my hands. Did this mean I failed?
I had to pass.
If I didn’t become a Crip, I’d be on the outside.
Forever.
“I’ll give you half points. Now, I’d like you to write the word blood on this paper.” He slid a paper and pen in front of me.
What, he didn’t think I could spell?
As I slowly wrote the word, I tried to figure out what he was getting at.
B . . . L . . . O . . . O . . . D . . .
My pen stopped on the last letter. The word needed something more. I could feel it.
Then it hit me.
Whenever Black Chuck wrote his name, he crossed out the B. I guess B symbolized Bloods and had to have a line through it.
I crossed out the B. Scrap clapped. “You passed, Julia! Welcome.”
He took me to the basement, where the others were waiting. They presented me with a handbook and a flag.
Everybody clapped and hugged me and kissed me.
“She needs a new name,” somebody said.
“I already thought of one,” Scrap said. “We gonna call her Innocent. Don’t she just look so innocent?”
Everybody agreed.
JOINED
I joined.
Staying out didn’t work
Got me Jumped
Got me Fucked
Now I feel safe
They got my back because
I joined.
No Fear
Like before
My Colors, an ID badge
Like a family coat of arms
Like a welcome mat
For friends
Like a slamming door
For Bloods.
Q:
i heard its official
Julia:
yea
Q:
did u have to do some grimey stuff to get in?
Julia:
u know me. i dont do anythin i dont wanna do
Q:
its hard to believe who ur hangin out with now. its weird
Julia:
wud it be better if i didnt have ANY friends?
Q:
u know i dont mean that. i hope u werent upset i didnt talk to u in the caf today
Julia:
who cares? i was busy anyway
Q:
i meant to text u sooner but i got caught up with homework. if i keep my grades up i might take some ap classes next semester
Julia:
thats cool
Q:
maybe u could too
Julia:
i still havent caught up on all the work i missed. im not gonna get over 90% in anythin except maybe dance
Q:
can u believe vickys gonna fail dance? she has it last period and she cuts. i dunno what shes thinkin
Julia:
i dont wanna hear about vicky or any of the girls ok? they dont exist to me anymore. their choice not mine
Q:
sorry. i hope u know were still gonna be friends no matter what
Julia:
yea
MEMBERSHIP PRIVILEGES
Sitting in American History class a week later, I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed.
I glanced down at my blue fingernails.
Blue shoelaces.
Blue book bag, with the blue flag dangling from it.
I wasn’t a Sleeper. I was the real deal. I wanted people to know I was Crip.
It made the haters stay away.
It made people watch what they said around me.
And there was freedom in that.
It brought me a new group of girlfriends—Sarah, Nessa, Apple Jax, Sly, and Jazz—who treated me like one of their own. Yeah, they were a loud, fast, potty-mouthed bunch, but they were real and I loved them. If they had a problem with you, they’d tell you instead of tiptoeing around it. I respected that.
The sweetest part of joining the gang?
It brought Eric and me closer.
True, he still wasn’t cool with the fact that I’d joined. He kept saying that he felt guilty—like he’d corrupted me or something. But he’d get over that eventually.
“You were a good girl before I met you, Divine,” he told me last night on the phone.
“Yeah, I was good, and it got me jumped. At least now we’ve got people to stand up for us.”
He’d come around. It wasn’t like he ever suggested I try to get out of the gang. We both knew it didn’t work that way.
The bell rang, ending the class. I turned to Eric. “I’ll meet you outside in a sec. I need to talk to Ms. Ivey.”
I went to the front of the class, waiting for some kid to finish talking to her before I had my turn.
“Am I all caught up?” I asked.
“You’re caught up.” She didn’t seem like she was in a very good mood.
“Is my grade going to stay the same this marking period?”
“The calculator will tell, Julia.” She looked at me. “You have some new friends, I’ve noticed.”
“Yeah, well, the old ones didn’t stick around.”
“I see. Would you tell them not to wave at you while you’re in class? It distracts your classmates.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Better get going. Your boyfriend is waiting for you.”
“See you tomorrow,” I said, backing away.
She didn’t like me anymore. I could feel it.
What had I ever done to her?
I guess she was like my other teachers—when my colors changed, she’d changed. I’d thought she might be different. I didn’t know why.
Outside the classroom, Eric was talking on the phone. He finished up when he saw me.
“Who was that?”
“Scrap.”
“Is there trouble?”
“ ’Course not.”
We went up a flight of stairs toward my next class.
“So I’ll meet you at the usual spot after school?” I said.
“I’m cutting out early today.”
“But then you’ll have to go to makeup lab. What’s so important that you have to leave early?”
“Damn, you sound like my mom.”
“I was just asking where you were going. Something wrong with that?”
“Kinda feels like you’re checking up on me.”
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you tonight, okay?” He kissed my cheek and headed back downstairs.
I stared after him, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
* * *
I got home around 4 p.m., throwing off my jacket and tossing my keys on the table. I curled up on the couch with chips and a glass of milk. There was a show on about people who were badly disfigured. I turned away. I felt shitty enough already.
Eric had bitched at me for the first time.
Was it stupid to ask where he was going? Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Why did he say I acted like his mom?
I had the urge to call Q, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Her mom would probably answer the phone, and God knew what she thought of me now.
Damn it, I still had friends, didn’t I? My Crips were there for me. Maybe I should start spending more time at Black Chuck and Scrap’s place. It was FJC Central, after all.
Getting off the couch, I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and go find some company.
I caught a bus down Flatbush Avenue. A few minutes later, I rang the doorbell. At first there was no answer, but I could hear people inside. I rang again.
Finally, I heard somebody coming to the door. I had the feeling I was being looked at through the peephole.
The door opened a crack—the latch was on.
Scrap peered out, face sweaty, eyes glassy.
“What up, Innocent?”
“Um, I just wanted to see what you’re all doing. Is Black Chuck here?”
“He ain’t home.”
“Eric?”
“Nah. We’re kinda busy here. Catch you later?”
“Okay.”
The door closed.
Maybe I really was a disease.
I walked down the front steps, nearly tripping over a beer bottle left on the shitty excuse for a lawn.
On the corner, I ran into Black Chuck.
“Ju! You been partying with the crew?”
“I just got sent away.”
“Oh. Guess they wanted to keep you . . . innocent.”
“Is Eric in there getting high?”