Read Online Knockout Games by G. Neri - Free Book Online Page B

he wanted to be like Kalvin.
    He stopped playing, his eyes darting back and forth. “Nobody can be like K. He the One, like the dude in The Matrix. ”
    So if they can’t be like Kalvin, then what? Did they have dreams of becoming something when they grew up? None of them said go to college, get a job, or anything like that. They all laughed like the thought was stupid that they might grow up and become something else.
    C-Jay made a face. “What’chu wanna know my dream for? What’s yours?”
    I couldn’t answer. It had been so long since I had one, I didn’t even want to think about it.
    They went back to their games and I filmed Kalvin working out through the window instead. He was all muscle, lean and tough. The way he attacked that punching bag was pretty amazing. I could see he had some kind of demons he was working out—that bag was gonna come off its chain from how hard he was hitting it. I could see him becoming a boxer or one of those mixed martial arts guys.
    â€œSo when does he ever play Knockout?” I asked Destiny.
    â€œK? He doesn’t play anymore. He’s more of a. . . coach, like Teacher Man, I guess. It just got old, having people trying to dethrone you all the time. I think he even got a ulcer or something ‘cause for a while, all he drank was milk.”
    â€œI don’t see him getting worried about things.”
    She scoffed. “Yeah, on the outside. But between you and me, he’s sensitive. Last KO he ever did, the target pulled a gun on him. K just snatched it from him and threatened to shoot him. But he couldn’t. He was no gangbanger. He just walked away and said, ‘That’s it.’”
    â€œSo what, he retired? Why have a club, then?”
    She watched him pummel the punching bag. “Rival clubs started coming up, copycats. Even some group of white kids in the burbs slumming like they something. K got pride. So he had the idea of creating his own club where he’d train these Tokers and that’s when he got his mojo back. More satisfying, I guess.”
    About thirty minutes later, Kalvin emerged, drenched in sweat. He smelled like some kind of wet cat, his eyes burning as he watched the Tokers playing their game. Pissed, he marched over and yanked the plug from the TV. They protested but shut up real quick when they saw he meant business. “Video games are for pussies. You need to be in the fight for real. Breathe it in. Feel your fist as it cracks somebody’s skull. Then you’ll know you’re alive. This”—he knocked the controls out of C-Jay’s hands—“is not what we do. Now let’s go out and have some real fun.”

13
    There was something in the air that afternoon. It smelled like fire. We descended into an old neighborhood park like a pack of lions heading out for a feeding frenzy. I found myself moving deeper into the pack, closer to Kalvin, as we kicked up leaves in our wake. They were hunting for new targets. Me, I was hunting for the right image, trying to make each video fresh and different. I wanted the viewer to feel they were right in the action—the sweat, the taste of blood, the shock of the punch, the thrill of it all.
    Kalvin and Prince stopped the group at the swing set. That was a great contrast—them strategizing on the playground. It was all a game. There were only a couple of toddlers there, but when their moms saw us coming, they cleared out. As they did, Destiny’s phone went off. When she saw the caller ID, she stopped in her tracks. She went kind of pale, then answered—taking off in the other direction.
    â€œWhere you going?” I asked. But she ignored me and kept moving, listening to the caller on the phone. I let her go and refocused on the group.
    Kalvin eased himself into one of the swings and watched Prince.
    Prince asked, “So what’s the plan, jefe ?”
    Kalvin nodded to himself, deep in thought.