The Kid: A Novel by Sapphire

Author:Sapphire [Sapphire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Coming of Age, Literary, United States, African American, Literary Fiction
ISBN: 1594203040
Amazon: B004RKXN5I
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 2011-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

BOOK THREE

ASCENSION

. . . making me dance

Inside

Your love is king

—SADE ADU

ONE

Whenever I see anyone hauling one of those oversize cheap suitcases on the subway, I think about that day, me holding on to my shit for dear life, everything else gone. Slavery Days went off at 805 and never really came back. I had come from Roman’s class that night with his card in my pocket, “téléphone-moi” on one side, “CALL ME” on the other. She was still sitting in roaches talking to herself, and I’m rapping to myself: My mother died in a car accident, my father died in the war. I’ll work out the details later. I canNOT be related to somebody ate dirt—Slavery Days, Nigger Boy—No. Maybe in the movies or a book or some shit. Big Black? Albino midget? He climb on Beymour. NO.

The first night I went home with him was maybe the end of the second or beginning of the third week of classes. I don’t remember. What I remember now is it was the end of his class at the Y, and I was leaning against the barre, and he walked over and said, “I have another class on the Upper West Side at Stride. If you serious about dance, you should be dancing every day. What other classes you is taking?” I told him about Imena on Thursday nights and Saturday afternoons. “That sounds good. If she’s who I think she is, she’s good. But whatever kind of dance you do, you need a strong foundation. Ballet is good for that. I like you, youze a hard worker.” I was looking down on his shiny pink scalp and his hair that looked like it had been planted in neat little rows.

“What happened to the side of your face? You has such a pretty face.”

My hand flew up like a girl’s to the side of my face. “It don’t mess you up, you know,” he says. “Roman just ask. After all, you is his pupil, isn’t you?”

I didn’t answer. My shoulder still hurt when I did port de bras, and the stitches on the top of my head ITCHED! When the cold hit my cheek, the whole side of my face throbbed. Pain. I was still trying to figure out what was going on with his hair. I had never seen implants before. Stride, yeah right, I thought, how was I gonna pay them double digits for classes at Stride? Stan had said Bureau of Child Welfare was paying for me at the Y through the City Arts for Kids Project.

“You was fighting with those boys uptown? Roman don’t want that. You become a dancer, you got to let them things go. You know what I mean?”

I knew what he meant.

“You could be my guest at Stride. Just use another name so City Kids don’t know. How old are you? Seventeen. Wait for me in front of Gourmet Fare.”

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