111th Street

When the bus pulled up in front of me, the door opened like a gaping maw and all the mixed scents of those inside rushed out at me full force. I inhaled a great breath and stepped inside. Flashing my pass at the driver, I headed straight to the back and took a seat under the air vent, right next to the window. I pushed the window open to let in some air.

A girl with an arm full of college textbooks got on the bus on Washington and sat next to me on the bench seat. I looked at her and she looked at me, the wariness of travelers that have to sit so close to other strangers showing on our faces. I silently declared myself the winner of the staring contest when she opened up one of her textbooks and stuck her nose in it. I leaned back and rested my head against the wall of the bus. I had a long ride ahead of me.

Intersections passed like landmarks and I counted the number of bus stops until I would reach 111th street. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Exposition and King all passed in rapid succession. At Vernon a rowdy group of teenage boys got on, but they got right back off on Slauson. At Florence a mother and her two children got on the bus. The little girl had snot running from her nose. Her mother was reading a magazine. Every now and then she would absently reach out and wipe the snot with her hand and then wipe her hand on her jeans. They got off the bus on Century and started walking into Jesse Owens Park. When the bus passed 108th, I rang the buzzer to signal the driver and stood by the back door. I got off when the bus stopped and took the first real breath of air I had had in over 40 minutes.

I was standing on the corner trying to get my bearings when I heard footsteps behind me. The boy with the green eyes had gotten off the bus too. He walked over to the pole and began pushing the button to change the signal. When the light turned green, we both stepped off the curb and walked up 111th towards Denker.

As we stepped onto the curb where the telephone company is, he stopped. He put his foot on the short wall that ran alongside the building and retied his sneaker. I had slowed my steps so that I could try and sneak another look at him. As I walked past him I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was looking back at me. I quickened my steps then and tried to go on about my business.

I could hear the steady beat of his sneakers against the sidewalk. I turned to look at him again. He was into his world of music. I turned back around and continued on my way. He caught up to me as I started to cross over Hobart and passed me up. I trailed behind him down the block.

At Harvard, group of girls had joined us on 111th. From the jackets they were wearing, I could tell they were students at Washington High School. I paid them no mind and kept on towards my grandmother's house. They obstructed my view of the boy with the green eyes. I started walking faster again in an attempt to pass them up and see where Green Eyes was going.

As I moved to pass them, I muttered a brief "'scuse me" and tried to break through. I felt myself get shoved from behind and I fell face forward to the sidewalk.

"Watch where you goin' bitch," one of the girls snarled.

I tried to get up but I was shoved back down.

"Get her purse," I heard someone say.

"This bitch don't even live over here," another one said.

I couldn't find my glasses. They must have come off when I fell, but I couldn't find them on the ground. I struggled to my feet. There were four girls, all of them facing me. One of them had my purse in her hand, digging through it. I reached for it.

"Give that back."

Her friend slapped me across the face. I felt myself get hot. Four of them and one of me meant I was seriously outnumbered. We were halfway between Harvard and LaSalle. If I tried to run to my cousins' house they would probably catch me and beat my ass anyway. I had no choice but to stand there and fight.