South Central Noir

She figured he’d exhausted himself and had no energy left to cry; that he had been crying for a long time in the dark, filthy house that her mother somehow still owned. It wasn’t the first time Hope had found him there, though Rika said she’d never put him in the oven again for safekeeping, but Hope knew she was lying, and she returned daily to check on him. It was about dark outside, and almost black inside the house; Hope didn’t want them to be there a minute longer than they had to be. She skipped over trash, avoiding all the madness and filth that had accumulated in what used to be her home.

“I found him,” Hope said, just loud enough for Maria to hear.

“He’s okay?”

“She put him in the oven again, but he’s okay.”

“We gotta go,” Maria said, her voice edging on panic.

Hope nodded. Chauncey might wake screaming his head off and Rika could appear like she would do, straight out of nowhere, like a horror movie monster, and snatch him from her arms. Not this time, she’d never give him up.

“You think she has any formula?” Maria asked.

“Under the bed. She hides it there.”

They burst into the bedroom, holding their breath because Rika never would take the time to throw away soiled diapers; instead, she just tossed them into what had become a mountain of shitty diapers; but the bedroom reeked of something worse than that.

“I don’t want to put my hand under the bed,” Maria said, shaking her head.

Hope understood. Anything could be under there, but when Rika had some extra money and sense enough to pay a basehead to gank formula for her, that’s where she’d hide it from that same basehead who might steal it back. She’d get enough cans of formula for a month so the baby wouldn’t go hungry even if she spent all the rest of her cash on rock. All she needed was water; she could find that from a neighbor’s hose even if the water was off in her house like it was now.

“Hold him,” Hope said, gently handing Chauncey over to Maria. Because Chauncey was blond with blue-green eyes and pale skin that contrasted against her dark skin and even Maria’s light-brown skin, Hope knew that some people said she stole herself a white baby because there was no way that baby could be her brother.

She squatted down, gripped the bedframe, and lifted the bed high off the floor. “I see it. And I see all kinds of shit.”

“Can you get it? I don’t want to put him down,” Maria said.

Hope could tell Maria was even more scared of what kind of nastiness she might touch than she was. Hope pulled up, flipping the bed over. The cans were there like they were supposed to be, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach for them. They saw Booty, the pit bull that Rika was supposed to love, lying there dead and so close to the formula that his rear paw rested on a can. She had no idea of why it had gone under the bed to die, but it made as much sense as anything else that had happened to them.

“Can we go? Just leave the cans. It’s no good now.”

Hope nodded; she needed to breathe, seemed as though the entire time they were inside of the house she hadn’t taken a breath. Outside, the sun was just setting at the western end of the palm-lined, nearly deserted avenue, and Hope began to feel Maria’s panic run through her, making it hard to think clearly.

Hope wanted to catch the bus to the Snooty Fox, but Maria never went along with that idea. It was a waste of time, but she still had to try to get Maria to go along.

“Come on. It’s a short bus ride.”

“No, it’s too crazy.”

Maria would hardly take the bus in the day, but night, hell no, she just wouldn’t consider it. She’d developed a way of walking so fast that nobody could catch her unless they sprinted, and then she’d just run. If she ran, no one could stay with her. She ran the 400 and the 800 at Locke for that pervert track coach — before things really fell apart. Hope hated trying to hang with Maria, and carrying heavy-bottomed Chauncey made it twice as hard.

“Do you want me to hold him?” Maria asked, but Hope shook her head. She’d keep up while holding Chauncey; she had no choice.

Hope glanced at the house she was raised in, praying that it would be the last time she’d ever see it; words couldn’t explain how much she hated it. Maria had gapped her; doing that run/walk thing. Hope wrapped Chauncey a little tighter in his favorite Dora baby blanket and worked hard to catch Maria. Maria did have a point about it being safer to run everywhere you go; by the time the Kitchen Crips kicking it by the liquor store noticed them, they had already blown past. If they tried to catch them, they’d realize it was hopeless, and even if the knuckleheads burned out in a car, Hope and Maria would just cross against traffic and go in the opposite direction. It worked, but it was so hard; Hope was already winded. The relief she felt when she saw the motel in the distance made the burning in her lungs go away.