Don't Run pt 2

So yesterday I told you about Nate punching me and how I ran. Today we're gonna talk about how I got up the courage to not be a punk.

A week or so after I got punched, Nate and I were friends as if nothing happened. See, this new kid named Dupree moved in and Nate needed all the friends he could get. I was seven and Nate was nine, but Dupree was thirteen. Dupree had just moved back to DC after being in juvenile hall for a year. That made him the Deebo of the block. Nate and I were best friends at that point.

I've always been able to get along with people, so me and Dupree were cool. That made me and Nate cool. Anyway, me and Dupree were buddy buddy for about a month, then one night we stayed out til about ten or eleven (this was the hood and it wasn't uncommon for seven year olds to be out that late) playing football, ninja turtles and trying to skateboard. Anyway, his mother told him to come in the house so I was like, "Aight man I'll see you later." He was like, "Yeah man, you got me with that skateboard today."

Trying to be cool and use what was "new" slang in '89-'90 I said..."That's right, word to your mother." He said, "What did you say?" I repeated it and laughed thinking I was cool and then went in the house. The next day my mother sends me to take the trash to the dumpster waaaaay up the hill in the center of the complex. I run into Nate and say what's up. He takes off running to the back of another building and yells, "Yo Dupree, he right here!"

Dupree comes running up and behind him is like fifteen of the neighborhood kids. He says, "What's that shit you said about my mother last night?" I'm confused like hell. He pushes me down to the ground is towering over me like, "What did you say about my mother bitch!?" So I get up and two things are going through my head
#1 What the hell is he talking about?
#2 Don't be no punk.

I tried to explain to him what "Word to your mother" meant but he thought I'd made the shit up. Apparently his family didn't have tv or radio so the phrase was lost on him. So I gave up trying to explain and moved on to #2, Don't be a punk.

"Man I aint say nothing about your mother, leave me alone."
I put the trash in the dumpster and tried to walk away without anyone seeing how fast my heart was beating through my shirt. Now, remind you...Dupree was 13, I was 7. That's when Benedict Arnold--Nate chimes in with "Fuck him up. He trying to say your mother's a bitch."
"WHAT!?"

That's when the big 13 year old fist comes flying. I dodged that one and was trying to look tough. "Stop playing Dupree." I didn't run. I'm thinking to myself..."Good job. You're not a punk." That's when fist number two, three and four made contact with my face. Dupree had been in Juvie Hall and apparently this nigga was the golden gloves of thirteen year olds. I was dazed and then I saw three or four other boys coming in to take shots and that's when "nigga run!" popped in my head.

"Fuck this!"
I hauled ass. I turn the corner around one of the buildings and this nigga had a fucking enclave where some more dudes were blocking my path. It's almost like he KNEW I was gonna run that way. So these other dudes grab me and start punching me and try to back me into a wall. I hit some Jet Li/ Jackie Chan escape shit and climbed over this brick wall and up onto this platform thing and then jumped down over them and ran full speed back to my house which by now was like a block or two away. No lie, it looked like the beginning of the Bombs Over Baghdad video where Andre 3000 is running from all those kids.

I ran for my damn life back to my building, locked the door and ran up the steps to my apartment. My mother was luckily in her bedroom watching TV and didn't know what happened. The next day, however, she saw my swollen face and...you guessed it...sent me right back outside to defend my honor.

As terrified as I was, I held my ground when Dupree came running across the street. In his exact words (or as best as I can remember)

"Don't worry man, I'm not gonna hit you. I'm sorry about that shit from yesterday. Nate is a bitch. That nigga told me you were talking about my mother and I believed him. After you went in the house, I was thinking that you never said anything bad about me before. Me and you is friends. We cool, but imma fuck Nate up the next time I see him. I didn't hurt you did I?"

From behind a swollen jaw, eye, chest and gut I said, "Naw, it aint hurt at all, but it was so many of yall that I was like, let me run in the house."

He believed that shit...then again, if a 13 year old is playing with a seven year old...he may not be "all there" in the first place.