Small Mercies

Brenda looked into George’s eyes and immediately sensed a major shift in mood on that sidewalk. “Just get the fuck outta here,” she said to the colored guy.

He tried to take her advice, but George blocked his path. “You trying to get money from my girl?”

“No,” the guy said quietly with a tiny smile that he might not have been aware of. “I was asking if her friend was okay.”

“Why do you care about her friend?” George’s voice was so quiet you could barely hear him. And they all knew what that meant.

“I don’t anymore.” The black guy held up his hands and tried to edge past George.

“Just fucking let him go,” Jules said.

“You’re right,” George agreed. “You’ll probably see him in school next week.”

Jules snapped her head up, and something unreasonable found her eyes. “I told you to fucking go.”

The black kid said, “I’m trying.”

He sounded so afraid. Terrified. Of them. It surprised Rum. And offended him at the same time. Maybe they all felt the same way, because the next thing that happened was—

“You happy?” Jules screamed. No one knew at first who she was screaming at. “You got your buses, you got our fucking school, you’re gonna move on to our neighborhood next?”

The black kid started walking a lot faster.

George got a big smile on his face and drained his beer. Practically in the same motion, he threw it at the black guy. It made a loud pop when it shattered.

Brenda laughed. So did Jules. Rum had never seen a person laugh and look so hopeless at the same time. The look stuck with him for days.

“Hey, wait up,” George said just as the black guy reached for one of the doors to the station. “Wait up.”

Now the black guy started to really move.

“We just want to talk to you,” George said.

And they all fell in behind George as he kind of half skipped toward the station doors. Whatever was going to happen, it was now in motion. No turning back.

And who would want to? Rum hadn’t felt this alive in years. Maybe ever.

Inside the station, the spook had already jumped the turnstiles. They all jumped them right after him.

Brenda called, “You run slow for a nigger.”

Jules said, “Yeah, I thought you were all track stars and shit.”

“Hey,” George called to the guy again, “we just want to talk to you.”

On the platform, as they all heard the train barrel down the track toward the station, George threw another beer bottle. It exploded at the black guy’s feet, and the black guy turned with his hands up and said, “Let’s just forget all about this.”

“About what?” George said.