“Titi, I Know Somebody Who Knows How to Do a Piece!”

Soon after I started living with my aunt, Titi Olga, it was time for me to attend my first year of junior high school. I was to go to JHS 143 and I was terrified of my first day. My elementary school bus drove past the notorious school every morning and again in the afternoon and it was always chaos, especially in the afternoon. There were always gang members from the Ball Busters and Manhattan Blood Brothers present on every corner of the Audobon entrance. They all looked hard and dangerous and it was easy to imagine that they all had knives and even guns. They were known to rob kids and fuck them up just for making eye contact. On most afternoons there was some kind of a fight which alway escalated into gang fights or some poor kid getting jumped. The police always arrived after the fact. My aunt’s daugther, my cousin Patricia went to 143 for 4 years before me. Patricia was one of the most popular girls in my neighborhood. She was pretty, dressed fly and liked to fight. She always kept a jar of Vaseline in her bag and was ready to smear it on her face in a moment’s notice so she wouldn’t get scratched up during the fight. She didn’t fight like most girls with awkward, flimsy swings. She beat the shit out of girl with correct, solid punches. She was feared by most girls and all the guys respected her. Back then, they used to say that she was down by law.

Me? I was still weird in my own skin. I didn’t have much fighting experience and I was busy trying to figure everything out. I didn’t make friends easily because it never occurred to me that maybe I should say hi and introduce myself. Because of members of my family who were known in the streets, people often introduced themselves to me. Once I befriended somebody, it was usually for the long term. I never spoke much at first because I was too busy studying their every move, word and how they interacted with other people. I knew from my own family that people could be unpredictable and I needed to feel safe enough to expose myself. People seemed to like me and once I saw that, it was then that I opened up and then it was hard to shut me up. I think people were amused at how much I really talked once you got to know me. One of the first things I did was tell them some kind of story, sometimes they were true and sometimes they were not. People found me funny and entertaining and that was good.

During my first days at JHS. 143 I thought it was best not to speak or make eye contact with anyone. I didn’t have a good sense of fashion and dressed weird, which got me unwanted attention. I used to catch some of the cooler kids whispering about me, probably making fun. This made me paranoid.

I always tried my best to sit in the back of the class. I couldn’t bother to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. I found most people boring compared to the stuff that was going on in my head. My mind was active but undisciplined.

One day during the last period of the day, I sat by a boy named Eddie Rivera. I was bored and couldn’t wait for the class to end. I observed Eddie. He was heavy set and I thought he was a funny looking. He had very expressive eyes that revealed a lot. I could tell that he was studying me as well. 15 minutes into the class he spoke to me.

This shit sucks.

I didn’t speak, but I agreed by nodding my head. He started drawing letters in his looseleaf notebook. He drew effortlessly. The letters were in nice shape and had style. He added 3-D to them and some designs. I was immediately hypotized. I knew it was graffiti, but it was by far the best piece I’ve ever seen in my life. He finished it off by adding a b-boy character that had an afro and shades that had a shine. I finally spoke.

Oh shit. That’s nice.

You like it?

I didn’t like the question because at that time you were often told to “get off the dick!” if you paid somebody a compliment. But something about his eyes made it safe.

Hell yeah! That’s cool. Can you do me one?

Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow.

The period ended and I was disappointed. I wanted to see Eddie do more graffiti. I think Eddie appreciated my admiration for his art. We walked out of class together and he invited me to go to his house. On the way there, he asked me if I had any money.

No. Why?

Because I want a Pepsi.

Okay, wait for me here.

I went into the bodega and shoplifted a big bottle of Pepsi.

You stole that shit?

I nodded my head nonchalantly. He laughed.

Oh shit! You’re crazy.

Once at his house, he fried up slices of salami and white cheese. We ate the salami and cheese and drank the Pepsi together. Afterwards we went into his room. It was huge and he had a lot of cool art supplies and showed me other graffiti he had done, including a Lee jacket he painted. I didn’t know much, but I knew that he was amazingly talented at such a young age. I liked being at his house and watching him draw. It inspired me to want to draw again.

I had to go home for dinner. I went home excited. My aunt greeted me at the door.

“Hi hon, how was school today?”

“Great! I know somebody who knows how to do a piece!”

“That’s nice, honey. Are you hungry?”

Posted on October 05, 2007 at 09:27 AM   |   Comment  (2 comments)