Читать книгу Demon Dancer - Alexander Valdez - Страница 21

Chapter 16

Junior High School

There was a bus to catch down at the corner, and all my friends from the neighborhood would ride along with me and rule the old bus. We weren’t bullies, but you kinda had to follow our wishes or suffer. No maliciousness, just pay us some respect, and everything would be cool. Arriving at this new school, which was about five miles from our neighborhood, a new world opened up, and all of a sudden, we didn’t feel like the cocks of the walk anymore. About five different elementary schools filtered into our junior high. The “sugar hill” kids, who were mostly black, were some big ass dudes, and they took no prisoners.

Thinking back as I recall, the blacks hadn’t come to the stage of bravado; they weren’t as angry as they are today. They just knew that they fit in with everybody, and that was that, no challenges or complaints. Now mixing the races was not in vogue yet, so dating a white girl was unheard of. Luckily for me, I was smart, witty, and a class clown who entertained my newfound black brothers. The word spread quickly among the tribe. I had carte blanche at the lunch tables or alongside the basketball court, watching those bloods talk trash and get down playing the sports.

Of course, back in ’59, I don’t recall if it was cool to call them black yet; I just don’t recall. They called themselves chams, and that was what we all called them too. The upper-level chams seemed bigger than the average guys. I guess they were older and unable to advance at some point in their years in school and had just been held back, so naturally, they were monsters. Now the normal-built chams were smarter, friendlier, and funnier. These were the guys that I really got along with. We were competitive in class and at PE, and I actually grew to admire them. We were equals.

Back where I came from, we had two black families who lived in funky old homes out in the woods by the brick pits. My favorite was a boy named Ray Wallace. He was a real piece of shit. If anything was missing or a house had broken into the neighborhood, the first words out of anyone’s mouth was “Ray did it.”

Poor guy could’ve been in the next city, but he still would have been the first person of interest. Ray was a bully and picked on anybody he thought he could put a fright into. I was one of those guys, I don’t know why. Maybe I could’ve whupped him, but I hate to admit being a bit of a pacifist in my youth. I was compassionate and never wanted to hurt another soul. I’d just tell Blackie, and he’d go after them with a vengeance.

Once, in school, I joined the track team and discovered that my survival skills would pay off. I was a fast runner and gained a reputation at the city’s other junior high schools. It was at the first city track meet, where all the junior high schools competed, that I got my first taste of prejudice. All year long I had raced in different school invitationals. I won most meets, but I was normal, so I also lost some.

It was the big city meet, and my race was up. My weight class was the smallest class, and I was a shrimp, so I was good to go. We all lined up to await the starter’s pistol, and boom, we were all off. I won and was being congratulated by everyone, including my school coach.

“Alex, come on up and weigh in for your ribbon,” the track meet director called out.

Making my way up to the scale, smiling and feeling great about the world, I stood upon that scale.

“You are a half pound overweight, son, automatic disqualification.” Number 2 got the blue ribbon. He was a wealthy local doctor’s son from the east side of town.

I was crushed, and I felt a tinge of hate start to build in my mind. My teammates, coach, and other kids from other schools who had come to know me all protested to no avail. I got nothing for being the best at something. I understood what prejudice was about on that day, and that had much to do with the formation of my psyche.