Page 11 of Fruit
CHAPTER THREE
Dante should have included the subway in summer in one of his circles of hell. The air is unnaturally humid, smelling like sweat and feet. There’s literally a guy without any shoes on a few seats down from me, legs stretched out in front of him. Another one is messily eating a massive pastrami sandwich.Urgh.Why?
I stare ahead sightlessly, which is the only way to ride the subway. Even staring at your phone gets tedious as the internet connection blinks in and out. I’ve managed to block out the obnoxious noise of the pack of teenagers in the middle of the carriage until their voices rise suddenly.
“Whatchu gonna do about it,Josephine?” one of them is saying. I glance over and see it’s a tall, pale, freckled kid with a smirk on his face. He’s flanked by three other boys and a girl, all of them staring at a skinny black boy of about fourteen with a cold glare on his face. His back is pressed against the shut subway doors, a snapback pressed low over his forehead.
“Fuck. Off,” Snapback says.
“Or what, Josephine?” Freckles takes a step forwards, crowding Snapback in further. Snapback looks like a caged animal, his jaw tight. Without thinking about it, I get up, moving slowly towards them.
“Or I’m going to beat your ass,” Snapback grits out.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you—” And then, fully formed, the f-word snarls out of Freckles’s mouth. My steps stutter because the way that kid said that word—Jesus. What is going around the kid’s life that he’s already learnt to say it like that?
“Call me that again,” Snapback dares. Freckles opens his mouth, but Snapback is already lunging himself at the other boy.
They crash into the opposite side of the carriage from the momentum. People around me start standing up, the other teenagers having hopped out of the way. I can barely see what’s happening between Snapback and Freckles, a tangle of moving fists and kicking legs.
“Whoa,” I shout, catching Snapback by his backpack and pulling him off Freckles. In his surprise, Snapback goes easily. Freckles gets up, a blooming bruise on his cheek.
“What thefuck?” Snapback screams at me as I get between the two boys. His eyes are wide and wild as he looks at me, the whites around the iris standing out against the large, angry pupils. One of them is already bruising, a cut dripping from his eyebrow.
I raise my hands between us, trying to calm him down, but the other idiot has started laughing behind me.
“Mommy gonna rescue you?” Freckles says, and I have to stop Snapback again as he tries to go around me.
“Whoa. Whoa, whoa, hey, look at me,” I say.
“Fucking let me go,” Snapback shouts, shoving at me. I stumble back a little but hold fast.
“Oi. Hey. Look at me. Kid! Look at me,” I tell him. Snapback turns his feral glare to me. “Kid, listen to me. That one over there?” I point my thumb over my shoulder. “Is a hundred percent not worth it. Do you hear me? He’s not worth what you’re giving him right now.”
“Let me—”
“Kid,listen. Right now? You’re giving in. You’re letting that snotty-nosed child dictate what you do right now, and where your life is going. He. Is. Not. Worth. It.” I stare into Snapback’s eyes, holding his shoulders loosely. He looks mad as hell, panting from the adrenaline. After a moment, he shoves my hands away but takes a step back.
Freckles snorts behind me. “Yeah, listen to your mommy, Josephine,” he says.
I see Snapback start to coil again and I raise my hands. “Dude. Look at him. Like, really look at him. Is this worth a second more of your time? You get to choose what sort of person you wanna be right now. Not him. He can choose to be the nasty one. You get to be better.”
We stare at each other as the subway slows to a stop. Snapback glances at the name of the stop on the grimy chart lighting up above one of the windows.
“Whatever,” Snapback says through clenched teeth before turning and striding towards the exit on the other end of the carriage.
“Bye, Josephine!” Freckles calls out behind me. I turn around for a second, pointing my finger at him.
“You could be better, too,” I tell him before running after Snapback.
“Hey, kid! Wait,” I say, reaching him on the platform stairs.
“You fucking stalking me now? Fuck off,” he growls.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Fuck off,” he repeats. I don’t listen, following him out of the subway exit and up the stairs until we’re blinded by the sunlight of the open air.
When it becomes obvious I’m not going anywhere, Snapback turns sharply to glare at me.
