Chapter 6

“Oh god!  Oh god!   I can’t go to jail for killing no white boy,” Kesean states.

“You were supposed to be fucking watching him Sean!”  Taz growls at him.

“I was!  I was! Oh my god!  We are fucked.  Oh my fuckin god man!”

Kesean keeps circling around Taz with this wide-eyed look on his face that seems like he is really going through something.   You would think by the expression on his face that we all just got the death sentence or something.   He’s freaking out and it becomes clear who the weak link in this group is.  

“Shut him up,” I say.

Pompey at this point is hovering over the trunk.   It’s Taz who gets the most annoyed at Kesean. He grabs Kesean by the collar and his hand is balled.   I think he’s going to knock some fucking sense straight into him but I grab Taz so he doesn’t take it too far.  

“We are fucked…” Kesean mutters again,  this time lower possibly in fear that Taz might try to swing on him if he’s too loud.

Taz has this look in his eyes that makes me think he is completely removed from this situation altogether.   He looks at me and says, “Fuck him.   He was fuckin with you.   He was a racist…”

“He didn’t deserve to die,” I tell Taz.

“No…my nigga Coin didn’t deserve to die.”

“Taz this is serious.  Someone is dead because of you…”

“Because of US.  Or are cutting us loose…” he asks, “Gonna run back to your white friend Wren and forget you came to us for help when shit hit the fan.”

“It’s not like that…”

Even if I did come to them for help I didn’t tell them to go this far.   I didn’t tell my band to attack Andrew.   This has gone too far.

“Yo...” Pompey says out of nowhere.

He’s been quiet this entire time that Kesean has been freaking out and during the argument after.   I look over him noticing that he’s still hovering over Andrew.   His eyes keep looking down at the trunk.  

“Not now Pompey,” Taz cuts him off before turning to me, “Dijon...I thought we were in this together…”

He was offended by me saying that Andrew didn’t deserve to die.   Ever since I’d said the words it just felt like I drew a line with him.   One that is making Taz look at me completely different.

Taz looks like he straight up doesn’t even recognize the guy I am at this moment.

“Taz,  please it’s not like that…”

I try to grab him but he pushes away hissing a harsh,  “Get the fuck off me…”

I feel like shit when he says it.   Taz has never spoken to me like this.   I knew he had a lot of anger in him but a lot of that seemed targeted at other people.  Seeing him act cold to me for the first time was something that I wasn’t really used to.

It was something that I didn’t like.  

All of a sudden I feel as though maybe he took what I said wrong.  He felt like I was sticking up for Andrew when really I was just trying to stand for human life.

I open my mouth to explain this but I’m cut off by Pompey who seems persistent to get what he wants to say out.

“Yo…” Pompey says again turning towards us with this look in his eyes of relief,  “He’s not dead.”

We immediately all circle around the back of the truck.  Kesean has been tough as hell trying to hang with Taz until now.  Now he’s crying and showing all this emotion I hadn’t even known he had.   It proves no matter how menacing and tough some black men acted they were still human in the end.   We all were.   And right now there is a human sense of relief guiding all between us.

Andrew was breathing.

“Did he see you attack him?”  I ask.

I don’t get an answer in response.  Kesean is too emotional and Taz is pissed at me.  That leaves Pompey who gives this uncomfortable shrug.

“Man who knows.   If he gets up he can snitch…”

That was a real possibility.  One that triggered Taz possibly to say what he says next.

“Let’s just leave him,” Taz suggests.

Kesean agrees desperately,  “Yeah just drag him out the car.  Leave his ass on the street…”

Clouds were forming over us.   It felt like God himself was telling us that the idea was fucked up.  Kesean seemed to have found his balls now that he knows Andrew isn’t dead.   He’s putting on this real gangster face as though he hadn’t just been crying.  Outside of Kesean, I would say that I was the next one nervous.  My hands are shaking.   These boys were from the hood, Born and raised.   They were tougher than me.   I wasn’t used to this.   I didn’t fit into this scene.  And right now it was becoming clear.

“No,” I interrupt, “We can take him to the Resident Assistant’s room.  Knock on the door and leave.”

“Why the fuck would we do that?” Taz asks.

At this point, Taz is over me.   I can hear it in the venom of his tone.   I wonder if it’s personal or if the situation has just got him on edge.   It’s impossible to tell.  All I know is the warm and fuzzies that I’ve been getting from him with the consistent flirting seemed to fade away almost immediately.   He was over me and I had no idea what to do.

Luckily Pompey jumps in with some common sense and says,  “Dijon got a point.  He wasn’t breathing a few minutes ago.  He might need some medical attention.  We leave him here to die and we might as well turn ourselves in.”

Maybe hearing it from someone else brings Taz to his senses.  He reluctantly agrees nodding his head a little bit and going to the driver's seat of the car.

~

The night is quiet, especially for campus.  Usually, this place was sprawling with white kids coming back from some drunk fiasco or hanging out but it was drizzling a little bit, and rain was coming so the streets were pretty much empty at this point.   It was lucky for us though as we drive up to the RA.

Pompey reaches for the door.  “Me and Kesean will get rid of it…”

“Hold up,” Taz states.

He gets out of the car and heads over to the trunk.  I’m unsure what he’s doing but when he gets back to the car I know he’s done something.   But what?  He nods over at Pompey and Taz who take Andrew out of the car.  

I stare at him as they walk past with Andrew's head in Pompey’s arms and his feet being towed by Kesean.

That’s when I see what it was that Taz was actually doing when he got out of the car.

“You wrote BLM on his forehead?”  I ask.

Taz’s facial expression doesn’t seem to change at all, “Yup.  Black lives matter.  What’s your point?”

“You trying to start a race war?”

Taz looks over at me, seeming a bit irritated,  “This war BEEN started.  We just weren’t fighting it…”

I wondered sitting back in the car at that moment if this was the truth.   I’d been attacked.  Maybe not physically but I’d been attacked at this school.  I’d gone around feeling as though I was a target.  But somehow deep in my mind, I knew Taz writing those words on Andrew’s forehead was going to spark something.  Something I wasn’t sure anyone was ready for.

~

It’s the next day and for the most part, I don’t hear about Andrew.  I go about school with my head down trying not to cause a scene.   It isn’t until I am in the class that I share with Andrew that I start hearing whispers.  They aren’t talking directly to me in any way but people were talking.  And by the end of that class, everyone was talking about it.    It’s becoming kind of clear that me that people knew what happened to Andrew and honestly my stomach felt was turning from straight up nerves in this situation.  

I’m so nervous that I end up frantically texting Pompey while I’m eating lunch after class.

“Mind if I join you?”

I look up to see Wren.   He has a tray of food with him from the long cafeteria line.   When I look up at him his blonde hair looks like rays of the sun shining down on me.   Then there was that beaming smile.   Wren has a way of giving you a look that made you feel like everything was right in the world even while you were walking through hell.

I didn’t want to feel comforted at a time like this.   I needed my guard up.  But then again I knew Wren would know any updates on Andrew.  And I needed to know what was going on.

So I nod.

“Sure.”

He sits across from me with his dish.  At first, he doesn’t say anything.  He just sort of sits there but then he leans over.

“You got something on your lip…” he awkwardly says out of nowhere.

“Where?”  I’m desperately wiping at my face.

“I got you.”

It’s intimate in a weird way when he reaches over and scoops some sauce off of my lip that came from the burger I was eating.   I’m thinking he’s going to wipe it off on a napkin but he doesn’t.  He puts it in his mouth.

“Ew,” I laugh.

“What?  Food is food.   You know I’m a fat kid at heart.”

We end up laughing together.   I feel guilty for laughing.   I feel guilty that for some reason Wren can always bring that silly side out of me.   And even when I should be alert I let my guard down.  

I clear my throat realizing I’m getting a little too comfortable.  There’s a reason I wanted him to sit down and join me and now was definitely the time to get to it.

“So how’s everything goin? Seems like everyone on campus is talking about some...attack….”

I feign ignorance but Wren just shakes his head in his explanation.

“You didn’t hear?” He asks.

“No one in this school talks to me except you,” I state.  

“Andrew was attacked,” he says.

“Do they know by who?”

Just in that moment, Vance walks up to the table.   Vance isn’t alone either.   He has a gang of jock white boys that join him.   They get to the table  and don’t even ask to join us.

“There he is ….” one of the boys state.

They are already sitting and almost immediately I feel uncomfortable.   The way they embrace Wren as they are sitting down all while completely ignoring me feels weird.   The circle all around me.   I count 8 white boys in total randomly joining my private lunch with Wren.   All of them were  muscular athletes just like Wren.   I feel the nerves all over my body when they sit.

Only after sitting does Vance seem to address my presence in the least.

“You guys don’t mind,  do you?”  Vance asks.

That wasn’t even directed at me.  He’s looking at Wren when he asks the question.   Wren looks over to me,  “That’s up to my boy.”

“I’m fine,” I lie,  “I was just leaving…actually.”

Vance shakes his head,  “Why leave man?  I never get to talk to you.”

“An Oreo is two blacks and one white Vance.   You’re the third wheel,” one of the boy's states.

I don’t know why they find this funny but they all laugh.  All of them.  Even Wren seems to sneer a little bit thinking that the little joke is funny.   I’m a little offended at first until I see how Wren doesn’t seem to be laughing at all.  It almost seems instead as some nervous irritation.  I’m wondering just what he was irritated by.  Could he have found offensive for me?

He stares at Vance who is laughing extra hard.  But when he realizes Wren’s not laughing Vance turns to me and says, “Scott just meant that as a joke…Dijon.  Scott is Andrew’s cousin.  Hope that wasn’t offensive.”

Andrew’s cousin.   They looked alike.   Both of them were really tall with thin lips,  blonde hair, and square faces.   Scott even had that jock smile that Andrew always seemed to have.

“Nah.  I’m good…”

The truth was I didn’t know if I should be offended or not.  

“I told you guys…” Vance states out of nowhere,  “Dijon is cool.”

I’m not sure in that moment why me being cool was up for debate but I realize now as they were settling in that these guys were all paying attention to me in a way.   They might have seemed to come over here for Wren but now that they were at the table they weren’t even looking at Wren.

Scott asks out of nowhere, “Then why don’t you ask him what you wanted to ask him, Vance…”

“Ask me?” I ask.

Scott gives me this look.  It’s real intense.  The only way I could describe it is when you walk up to a lion’s cage at the zoo and stare one of those ferocious beasts in face knowing no matter how composed he seemed in the end he was still a predator.    It frightened me.  It makes me kind of lean back in my seat a little bit.  I could just tell whatever he wanted to ask me was full of all this mal-content.

“Yeah, we got something we want to ask you…”  Scott points right at me.

Before he responds someone jumps in. Surprisingly it’s Wren.  He stands up and faces right at Scott.   What I don’t expect is Scott to buck right back at Wren.   Scott has this mad dog look in his eyes.  It’s this intensity I hadn’t seen before.  It usually comes from the quiet ones.  Before this, I’d seen Scott around with Andrew.   He was close to Andrew.   Really close.  And for some reason, I had the feeling that Andrew’s injury hurt him.    They were cousins after all.  And I guess from this intensity they were very close cousins.

“What are you, Wren? His bodyguard?”  

I am shocked when Wren stares him down.  It’s intense between them at that moment.   Two muscular tall men ripping each other apart with their eyes.  Any moment I knew some shit could go down.  I had Wren’s back staring the guys down.  But at this moment it was clear that we were dangerously outnumbered.

“You fucking protecting him bro?” another boy asks Wren, seeming just as irritated as Scott.  

“Yeah because you fucking people are racists,” Wren surprisingly calls them out shocking everyone including me at this point, “I hear what the fuck you say behind his back.  The racist fucking things you fucking say Scott with Andrew.   Calling him an ape.  Talking about how you guys wanted to teach him a lesson about how black boys like him should stay in their place.”

I’m shocked Wren is coming at Scott with all this heat.   I’m even more surprised that Scott isn’t backing down in those moments.  

“Whoa?  Vance states, “Everyone calm down.   Scott, you didn’t say that did you?”

Scott looks at me, “Of course not.”

“It’s cool,” I stand up and say, “You guys want to ask me a question, then ask me a question.”

Wren isn’t letting it go though.   He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a hard grip, before sitting down hard.

“Watch what you say, boy?”  Wren warns them.

The stare’s are so intense until one of the boys,  this redhead boy with freckles on his face turns to Wren and says out of nowhere,  “You never know who to trust nowadays.  Wren’s turning on us...”

“Just ask your fucking question,”  I interrupt, realizing that these guys were getting aggressive back with Wren at this point.

It wasn’t just Scott at this point.  All of them were looking at Wren like he was an enemy.  The folded eyebrows and they were all starting to stand up was starting to get me nervous.  Wren doesn’t seem to back down though.  He’s facing all these guys in a way that is shocking me to the maximum.  

He was doing this for me.   And honestly, it was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.

Finally, Vance interrupts and seems like the mediating voice in this, “Guys.  Let’s all calm down.  Andrew is in the hospital and it has us all one edge.  Please.  Guys.”

Scott is the first surprisingly to sit down.   The others do the same at that moment.   Wren is the only one standing up and he doesn’t budge or get put off his guard.

“How’s he doing?” Wren asks, somewhat giving an olive branch to Vance.

“Still in ICU,” Vance responds, “And so we just wanted to ask Dijon a question.  So c`mon Wren.   It’s not a big deal.   We’re boys.”

“Clearly we ain’t,” Wren says, “You’re cool Vance but I hate the disrespect I’ve been hearing around here.”

“I can handle it, Wren,” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Watch what you say,” Wren warns Vance this time.

Vance sighs, “Did you have something to do with Andrew’s injury Dijon?”

“Why the fuck are you assuming it’s him?” Wren asks.

“I know it’s not him.  He’s one of the good ones,” Vance states out of no where, “It’s those fuckin’ black lives matter people…”

Wren looks at me.  He looks at Vance.  I can see how uncomfortable he gets when Vance spits the words out that he does.  It’s not what Vance says.  It’s how he says it.  The contempt in his voice.  The utter hate in his voice.  

I raise my hand, “I’m black.”

“Of course you are, but you’re a cool black person,” Vance states out of no where, “Not like those fucking thugs out there protesting.”

Wren gives Vance a hard look, “Fuck Vance.  We’ve had this conversation just this morning about this shit!  I told you when you talk like that it’s offensive…”

“I mean we just want to know where Dijon was last night,” Vance states.

“Because he’s the only black boy on campus?”

“Don’t make it about race,” Vance states, “Scott made some jokes about Dijon  So what?  I laughed at them.  We all laughed about them.”

“I didn’t laugh.  Not then.  Not now,” Wren states.

“The point is they were just jokes,”  Vance states, “Right Scott.”

“Nigger jokes,”  Scott says out of no where.

For some at that moment they all start cracking up.   Vance awkwardly stands there as though he didn’t hear what Scott just stated.  

“You people are fuckin racists,”  Wren states, “You think it’s funny.  The real world is going to hit you like a ton of fucking bricks.”

“Scott was joking,” Vance states.

Vance face gets a little red.  A part of me thinks he really is trying to bridge the gap here in this weird way but in another way, he was just as offensive.  

“I’m just trying to tell you people to be cool,”  Wren states.

“To Dijon?  Damn man.  All you seem to talk about is Dijon this.  Dijon that.  We’ve argued for hours about how offensive I am to Dijon.  Dijon do you find me offensive?”  Vance asks me.

I have to admit my dick hardens knowing that Wren was not only defending me now in person but had been already defending me when I wasn’t there as well.    I find my heart beating faster and faster knowing how real Wren is being right now.  

I realize at that moment that I’m not going to sit around and let Wren just be my white savior with these people.  I was going to speak out myself.

“Yeah I do,” I admit.

“See man,”  Wren states, “Vance you don’t tell the jokes but you laugh at them.   Now stop the act.   You heard Scott just say the N-word and you’re OK with it Vance.   That is why I can’t be friends with even you anymore.  All of you are a bunch of fucking racists.  Even you Vance.”

“Whoa, you going to call me a racist?”  Vance states, “It’s the N-Word.   People say it all the time in rap songs.  What’s the big deal.”

“Right.  Nigga this.  Nigga that,”  Scott says out of no where, “You keep protecting him.  It’s like you two are faggots together.”

Wham!

That’s when it happens.  Wren goes over the limit and punches Scott in the face.   The way Scott’s jaw readjusts lets me know that he isn’t going to be standing after that one.  He falls flat to the ground and his boys are so pissed that they jump in.  They try to jump Wren, grabbing him over the table as Wren tries to push them back.

I find myself jumping to Wren’s defense tackling the red-haired boy to the ground.    From there on it’s just a blur of fighting.  I’m focusing on punching this guy below me when I feel someone kick at my back.  I fall face forward and someone is over me swinging at my arms, numbing them with each punch trying to get to my face.   The only thing that gets them off of me is a tray to the head done by Wren who realizes I was in danger.

Two boys jump on Wren but at that point, security seems to be aware of what’s going on.

Everything else isn’t unclear. Fists swinging,  blurry moments where my body takes over and my mind goes somewhere else.   That’s when everything goes crazy.  

~

30 minutes later we collapse into the room bloodied and bruised.   We were jumped and were beaten pretty bad but for every wound that we wore our enemies wore one too.   None of those eight boys would be having a comfortable morning the next morning.  But the problem is neither would we.

“Fuck.  There goes every single friend I’d had since the 1st grade,” Wren states.

It hadn’t occurred to me really how long Wren knew these guys.   Why shouldn’t they have?  This was a small suburban neighborhood in red America.   Family values were everything.  These boys grew up together.  They all knew each other.  That’s why they were all so mad about me testifying against Officer McHenry.  That’s why they were all so upset Wren had my back.  

“I’m sorry.”

I meant it.  I felt horrible.  I’d just ruined this boy’s life in a way.  There were some scuffles men had when they were drunk or when they were in their feelings.   What just happened with Wren and those guys back then was something I don’t know if anyone could get back from.

“I...I just got to clean up.”

It’s later that night after we both shower that I look over at Wren.  He hasn’t spoken since we’d gotten in the room.   It’s been hours.   A part of me is wondering if he regrets having to fight his friends because he was standing up for me.   It bothers me not knowing how to just come out and say it.   What he did meant everything.  Seeing someone who cared that much to take on a whole group of boys when he didn’t have to.

I find myself just staring at him.  He hasn’t taken his towel off from his shower.  I’ve notice he does this thing where he sleeps with his towel on and gets under the comforter.   He thinks I don’t notice but I do.   He sleeps naked.  He wakes up before me and gets out from under his comforters butt ass naked.    I catch him a few times but pretend like I’m asleep so I can catch that hard muscular body naked.

It’s perverted.  But then again I find myself perverted a lot around Wren.  Even now I’m noticing too much how he keeps messing with his shoulder.

“Can I at least massage your shoulder?” I ask him.

He is quiet for a long minute as though thinking about it.  Then not even looking at me, still facing away from me he grunts, “Sure, why not.”

I come over to him and slowly start massaging his muscles.   I’m surprised when he reaches over and turns off the light as I’m doing it.

“Hey Wren?”

“Wassup Dijon?”

“I wanted to tell you that I appreciate you being there for me today.  I appreciate you having my back.  It meant more to me than I think you could know.”

He turns to me.  Damn this boy was beautiful.  The way his golden hair just shined in the light.  The way his bright eyes would stare into mine.  It felt like nothing and no one else in this world even existed when he looked at me the way he looked at me.  

“I’m your friend.   That meant something to me when I told you that.  I got your back always.  Through everything.”

I don’t know why I’m crying.  Maybe it’s because I had up my wall for so long around this guy when I didn’t have to.  When he was being honest with me this entire time.  He reaches over and he hugs me.  Our chests press against one another.

And that’s when I can’t help it.

I lean forward and I kiss him.  My lips press against his soft lips and it’s just as I imagined they would feel.  They were soft but firm.  So when I kissed up against them it felt like they guided mine even though he wasn’t moving.  He doesn’t kiss me back.  He doesn’t even have to for me to feel sparks all through my body.  I’d had full out make-out sessions that didn’t have the same level of intimacy as a small peck did with Wren.

“Whoa…” he states pulling back.

I hate how he pulls back.  It embarrasses me.  I jump off the bed.  My face gets red and I just feel like I want to bury myself under my own pillows for doing something so stupid.  I can’t believe I was so dumb.

“Wait...where you going?” he asks, “The massage…”

He’s calling me back to his bed.  I’m surprised by it and nervous all at the same time when he does it.   The way he looks at me when he calls me back to his bed is a way that I’d never seen him look at me before.   It was strange but enticing all the same.  It was as though he was some spider leading me into his web.

And I got entrapped in a matter of seconds, returning back to his bed.

“How’s it feel…”  I ask.

“You touching me.  It feels like I imagined it would,” he states, “Turn around.  Let me show you…”

Did he just say what I thought he said?  I find myself getting red a little bit.

“Wait back up,” I interrupt him, as he begins his massage, “You imagined me touching you?”

He doesn’t respond for a second.  He’s begun his massage.   I am on my stomach and he is pressed on top of me.  His body massaging all the pain from overworking our muscles during the right off.  He glides down from the top of my back wringing his hands deep into my flesh.  He glides slowly down my vertebrae causing me to start panting.  I watch how he leans down at that moment.  I might be imagining it but it is almost as though he smells me.  

That’s when I feel it.  I feel something pressed up against my asscheek.

Something hard.

“Only once I imagined you,” he states, “You came out of the shower.  You thought I was asleep and I saw you put on that jockstrap…”

I notice my pants coming down at that moment.   Wren is yanking them lower and I’m letting him.  I’m allowing him to slowly drop them down further and further.  I’m breathing hard as I realize he is out of his drawers too.   His dick is pressed up against my ass cheeks.  He’s grinding slowly back and forth allowing me to feel the entire girth slide around my asscheeks.  I’m so nervous that my ass begins to sweat.

And somehow that sweat allows his dick to slide right between my ass cheeks.  

“What?”

Suddenly reaches under his pillow, “I’d watch you change out of those jockstraps that night.  And when you wore them all day they smelled like you.   I peaked as you took them off.  And I jacked off so hard that I came four times imagining this moment.”

He pulls something from under the pillow.  It’s the old jock strap.  He puts it into my face and lets me smell.   His hands are behind me pulling me close to him.   His fingers enter my mouth.  I drool over them allow my saliva to coat his fingers.  Wren uses that same saliva to double by sucking his own fingers.   Then he waxes his dick slowly with the coating allowing it to get nice and wet.

Slowly he enters me.  He gets deep inside of me.  

“What’s it feel like?” I ask him.

“It feels like it’s worth giving up your old ideas.  It feels like it’s worth giving up your friends.  It feels like with all our differences...tonight...I’m going to make love to you so long you’re going to think we are the same person.”

And everything changes between me and Wren forever.  

To read the next chapter in advance go to www.crushedcrown.com