Rodriguez,” like Mrs. Colfax taught me in her professional development course.
Snipes takes one look at me, then says to Nestor, “Take off.”Nestor hesitates, then tells me he’ll wait for me outside. As soon as the door closes, Snipes motions for me to take a seat and turns off the television. He rises from his chair and takes a sip of his rum, never pulling his gaze from me. Finally, he scoffs, “Get the fuck out of here. This ain’t for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Scout. I told you to get the fuck on up out of here! You ain’t trying to work for me.”
I know this is a test. I ace tests. I have to. “Yes, I am.”
“What for?”
“Because I need the money.”
“Who the hell doesn’t?”
“But I’m the one who’s here.”
Snipes squints as if he wants to like my answer. “You in some kind of trouble?”
“No, sir.”
“You owe anybody any money?”
“No.” Then I come clean. “Not yet. Not if I can help it.”
“Oh, I get it. You got some nasty habits. Gambling, drugs, or some shit.”
“Not at all.” Chingy pops into my mind. “I stay shy.”
Snipes laughs. “You stay shy? Okay, Scout. Here you go.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. He peels off one hundred-dollar bill after the other, tossing them into a stack on the table. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. “Is that enough for you?”
I should take the money, say peace out, and never show my face around these parts again, but there’s more at stake now than money. “Hardly.” This man doesn’t know me to rate my needs so damned cheaply.
Snipes bends down and hollers in my face, “How much is enough, then?”
“Thirty!” I yell back.
“For what?”
“College!”
“College?” He laughs like my name is Ernie and I want to buy a truckload of rubber ducks. “College?”
“I didn’t stutter.” I’m not two feet from Cerebus, and I unleash this pent-up bravado. Who is this guy, and why is he trying to get me killed?
“What freakin’ college costs thirty grand?”
“The best.”
“Oh, is that right?” Snipes laughs again. “What do they teach for thirty G’s that you can’t learn at the College of Mount Okey-doke?”
“How to run the world.” It may sound like a slick response, but that’s real talk. “And that’s thirty G’s
per year
and
not
including room and board.”
Snipes finally straightens up. He finishes off his rum and sits back down beside me. “You really out there slinging so you can afford to go to some rich White boys’ college? Da Man’s University.” He laughs at his own joke. I neither laugh nor answer. “You think a nickel bag here, a white top there is enough to take you where you trying to go?”
“With all due respect, why does it matter why I want to do this?” I ask. “So long as my incentives fuel my hustle and move your product, we’re both good.”
He leans over and scoops the money off the table. “You want Da Man’s U that bad?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see you there,” he says. “Not on no sellout shit either. I see you keeping it real. Representing. You gonna become one of my good friends in high places, aren’t you, E.?”
I swallow. “Damn straight.”
Conciliatory (adj.)
friendly, agreeable
On Monday, when I rush out of physics to speak to Mr. Sweren before everyone else arrives, who’s there with him but Mrs. Colfax. On another day, I would have held back and waited for her to bounce, but today I’m on a mission. “Excuse me, Mr. Sweren, but I need to speak to you about something important.”
Mrs. Colfax puts her hand on my arm. “So, how are your college applications going, Efrain?” she asks.
Like you really care
. I step out of her reach. “Fine.”
She says to Mr. Sweren, “Efrain’s intent on going Ivy League.”
“Good for you,” he says, not sounding the least concerned about my being overwhelmed.
Mrs. Colfax fidgets. “But don’t you think Efrain
Snipes takes one look at me, then says to Nestor, “Take off.”Nestor hesitates, then tells me he’ll wait for me outside. As soon as the door closes, Snipes motions for me to take a seat and turns off the television. He rises from his chair and takes a sip of his rum, never pulling his gaze from me. Finally, he scoffs, “Get the fuck out of here. This ain’t for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Scout. I told you to get the fuck on up out of here! You ain’t trying to work for me.”
I know this is a test. I ace tests. I have to. “Yes, I am.”
“What for?”
“Because I need the money.”
“Who the hell doesn’t?”
“But I’m the one who’s here.”
Snipes squints as if he wants to like my answer. “You in some kind of trouble?”
“No, sir.”
“You owe anybody any money?”
“No.” Then I come clean. “Not yet. Not if I can help it.”
“Oh, I get it. You got some nasty habits. Gambling, drugs, or some shit.”
“Not at all.” Chingy pops into my mind. “I stay shy.”
Snipes laughs. “You stay shy? Okay, Scout. Here you go.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. He peels off one hundred-dollar bill after the other, tossing them into a stack on the table. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. “Is that enough for you?”
I should take the money, say peace out, and never show my face around these parts again, but there’s more at stake now than money. “Hardly.” This man doesn’t know me to rate my needs so damned cheaply.
Snipes bends down and hollers in my face, “How much is enough, then?”
“Thirty!” I yell back.
“For what?”
“College!”
“College?” He laughs like my name is Ernie and I want to buy a truckload of rubber ducks. “College?”
“I didn’t stutter.” I’m not two feet from Cerebus, and I unleash this pent-up bravado. Who is this guy, and why is he trying to get me killed?
“What freakin’ college costs thirty grand?”
“The best.”
“Oh, is that right?” Snipes laughs again. “What do they teach for thirty G’s that you can’t learn at the College of Mount Okey-doke?”
“How to run the world.” It may sound like a slick response, but that’s real talk. “And that’s thirty G’s
per year
and
not
including room and board.”
Snipes finally straightens up. He finishes off his rum and sits back down beside me. “You really out there slinging so you can afford to go to some rich White boys’ college? Da Man’s University.” He laughs at his own joke. I neither laugh nor answer. “You think a nickel bag here, a white top there is enough to take you where you trying to go?”
“With all due respect, why does it matter why I want to do this?” I ask. “So long as my incentives fuel my hustle and move your product, we’re both good.”
He leans over and scoops the money off the table. “You want Da Man’s U that bad?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see you there,” he says. “Not on no sellout shit either. I see you keeping it real. Representing. You gonna become one of my good friends in high places, aren’t you, E.?”
I swallow. “Damn straight.”
Conciliatory (adj.)
friendly, agreeable
On Monday, when I rush out of physics to speak to Mr. Sweren before everyone else arrives, who’s there with him but Mrs. Colfax. On another day, I would have held back and waited for her to bounce, but today I’m on a mission. “Excuse me, Mr. Sweren, but I need to speak to you about something important.”
Mrs. Colfax puts her hand on my arm. “So, how are your college applications going, Efrain?” she asks.
Like you really care
. I step out of her reach. “Fine.”
She says to Mr. Sweren, “Efrain’s intent on going Ivy League.”
“Good for you,” he says, not sounding the least concerned about my being overwhelmed.
Mrs. Colfax fidgets. “But don’t you think Efrain
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