Bronx Masquerade Read Online Free Page B

year. Man, did she get big! She shrunk right back down, though. She’s fine, so I can see why a guy would want to give her a child. Not like any other guy will get the chance, the way she steers clear and keeps to herself.
    Fine as she is, the girl ain’t no dummy. Not writing poetry like that.
    She should put it up on the wall. If you ask me, it belongs there.

Janelle Battle
    “Janelle Hope. Mrs. Janelle Hope. Mrs. Devon Hope.” Dream on, fool. You can stand here in the girls’ room and practice saying that name ’til your tongue falls out, or the change bell rings, whichever comes first, and it still won’t ever be true. Face it. Devon is Denzel Washington, and you are Thighs “R” Us.
    I can hear Lupe now. “Stop putting yourself down. You have a very pretty face. Besides, you have a lot more going for you.” Yeah, well, I guess that’s true. I mean, I am smart and funny, and I know I’m a good person. But this is high school, and nobody seems to care about that. Why couldn’t I be tall and elegant like Diondra, or have Judianne’s perfect complexion, all smooth, super-rich fudge? Better yet, why couldn’t I look like Tanisha, or Gloria? Then I might have a chance with somebody like Devon. But I don’t, so forget it.
    Devon is different from the other jocks, though. How many guys you know read Claude McKay for fun? Seems like every time I go to the library, I catch him squeezed into a corner like he’s got something to hide. He smiled at me last time I saw him there. That’s something, isn’t it? He didn’t have to smile, even if I did smile and wave first. And he seemed to like the poem I read at the last Open Mike Friday.
    I can’t believe I’m getting up in front of people and talking about personal stuff, and liking it. I’m saying things that I would never tell anybody, usually. But, I don’t know. There’s something about reading poetry. It’s almost like acting. The room is kind of set up like a stage, anyway. Mr. Ward turns most of the lights out, and we stand in a spot in front of the video camera. Once he switches it on, it’s like you become somebody else, and you can say anything, as long as it’s in a poem. Then, when you’re finished, you just disappear into the dark and sit down, and you’re back to being your own self. Gloria says it’s the same for her.
    “Hey, Janelle.”
    Oh, no. It’s Miss Big Mouth Fifth Avenue in another one of her original getups. Where’d she come from?
    “Hey, Judianne.” I thought the bathroom was empty. How long was she there? I hope she didn’t hear me talking to the mirror. That’s all I need, to have the whole school laughing about me having a crush on Devon. Lord, please don’t let that happen. It’s bad enough they call me Battle of the Bulge behind my back.
    I wish, I wish, I wish. God, I wish people could see me on the inside. I know I’m beautiful there.

OPEN MIKE
    inside
    BY JANELLE BATTLE
     
     
    Daily
I notice you frown
at my thick casing,
feel you poke me
with the sharp tip
of your booted words.
You laugh,
rap my woody shell
with wicked whispers shaped
like knuckles,
then toss me aside.
Lucky for me,
I don’t bruise easily.
Besides,
your loss
is someone else’s gain
for I am coconut,
and the heart of me
is sweeter
than you know.

Tyrone
    You never think other folks got feelings. Like Janelle. I must’ve cracked wise a hundred times about her weight. Never even thought about it. It was just something I did for a laugh. Listening to her now, it don’t seem all that funny.

Leslie Lucas
    I’m starting to feel like I know Janelle, at least a little. And Lupe. And Gloria. And Raynard. Before Open Mike Fridays, I hardly knew anybody in this school at all. Big surprise.
    What could I possibly have in common with these kids? I must’ve asked myself that question a million times a day when I moved here. I’m white, they’re Black and Hispanic. I grew up in Westchester County. They grew up in New York City.