Pass

10:17PM

Pass. I shake my head no as I meet the gaze of the sunset colored eye boy sitting beside me. I turn my attention back to the city lights and tall buildings in front of me. The busyness of New York City sounds like a whisper all the way up on our apartment building’s rooftop. Dreams seem further away than they do in my head. I gulp. The boy beside me, rubs his finger through his dusty brown curly hair. His other hand has his joint to his mouth and he inhales so smoothly. I notice red stains around his finger tips. I push my glasses up on my face. I look down at my black bandeau top with a yellow butterfly in the middle. I pull up my top to make sure my 50 bucks don’t fall out of my boob pocket. I don’t smoke, but my emotions are getting the best of me. Maybe I should’ve stayed in Staten Island with Pops and Auntie Arielle. It's too late for that. Police sirens sound like they’re approaching. Cops are trying to bust through the roof top door. I pull up my black bomber jacket over my top to cover the red stain on my shirt.

7:00PM

Pass. I pass by Mrs. Alvarez’s door and there’s an Amazon package sitting in front of her scratched up burgundy door. I pound on her door because she’s hard of hearing. “Ayo Mrs. Alvarez! You have a package outside ya door. I don’t want nobody to try and take ya stuff again.” My fist slowly unfolds as it rests on the cold door. I press my ear against the door and can hear rap music blasting. I start to laugh because I know damn well Mrs. Alvarez’s old behind ain’t getting turnt up in here by herself. I breathe in deeply and can smell fried chicken being cooked up. My stomach gurgles. I pick up the brown box and try to turn the knob. It’s locked. I take a bobby pin out of my sloppy curly bun and pick the door. I walk in and am met with a foggy atmosphere like it’s 6am on a monday morning in the Burbs. I cough and take my inhaler out of my bookbag. Russie, Mrs. Alvarez’s yellow cat comes running up to me. I smile and bend down and hug it. “Mrs. Alvarez, I’ma set your package right here on your vanity table!” I shake my head at how thick my New York City accent has gotten since I moved here at 7 from Rhode Island. As I’m petting Russie, a boy around my age comes around the corner with a stern look on his face. He has thick eyebrows matched with thick curls like mine. I almost stumble over. He looks good. Who is he?

9:00PM

Pass. “Just pass this to the dude in front of the bodega with the Timbs on?” Mrs. Alvarez’s grandson tells me. I met this man all of 2 hours ago and he’s already getting me to make my first deal at 18. My moms will kill me if she finds out. But, I have to do what I have to do to keep food on the plate for me and my little brother while my moms is in the hospital with her MS flare up again. I tell Victor that this is just a one time thing. He doesn’t believe that I can do it even though he doesn’t know me from a can of paint. But he said he’s heard a lot about me from his grandmother. Well I guess she didn’t tell him everything because I hate when someone tells me I can’t do something. I prove them wrong every single time. I am Camina Brown-Diaz. This almost high school dropout has the highest GPA in her senior class and scored high on her SATs. Victor dares me to make a deal and he’ll pay me 50 bucks if I don’t chicken out. A smirk forms on my lips as the neon ‘OPEN’ Sign illuminates my face. Victor runs over to me and hugs me. I don’t want the hug to end. “C’mon,” Victor whispers as these two kids sheepishly leave their skateboards outside the Bodega. We skate off to an unknown destination.

9:30PM

“Pass me my bag,” Victor tells me. We’re standing in the alleyway on the side of the last house on the block. There’s a sign that reads ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’. I hand Victor his bag and he pulls out a red can of spray paint. I stare up at the moral. It’s a painting of Mrs.Alvarez. She looks about 20 years younger in his portrait. “Victor, it's gorgeous. I’m speechless.” He winks at me and I make sure the butterflies in my stomach aren’t making imprints like a baby kicking inside it’s mother’s belly. Victor tells me to back up so that I don’t get the paint on my dope fit. His words, not mine. But they were my thoughts this morning when I took a selfie in my cracked mirror. I step back some. I watch as he glides the spray paint across Mrs. Alvarez’s dress. I hear sirens in the distance and I start to get nervous. “We’re not gonna get in trouble are we? Isn’t this illegal, especially because this is private property? This is someone’s home.” Victor shoots a mean glare at me, his white shirt looking more tight than it did moments ago. He slams down the paint so hard, he accidentally makes some spray out. “Trouble? I’m not sweating that. You see this woman?” He demands more than he questions, “This was her home for 30 years before they pushed all us minorities out. Now she is sitting up in a mice infested- pee smelling apartment. This is her crib.” Victor walks up on me. Part of me wants to step back out of fear, but the other half wants me to see just how close he’ll get. There’s police lights up on us. We skate and skate.

10:18PM

Pass. Victor tries to pass me the joint one last time before the cops bust us. As I hear the cops getting closer, my phone rings. It’s my 14-year old brother calling me on facetime. I can see he’s in the kitchen with all the food cabinets open in the background. “Yo Mina! I just got the mail and your letter from NYU came in! Hurry up and come home. I just know you got accepted!” A teardrop forms and falls down my cheek. “Open it.” I whisper. He rips it open without hesitation. “You got accepted! Mommy’s gonna be so proud of you!” Nico exclaims at the same time the police yell, “Hands up. You have the right to remain silent...” I should’ve kept on walking passed Mrs. Alvarez’s door.