RED PARALLEL

Chapter 59: The Roots I Own

Song: Whatever It Takes, by Imagine Dragons.

Aaron slumped on the couch next to him. Traviz was staring at the meds, feeling as if he had just been sentenced to a painful ritual.

"Baby Tiger, this ain't poison!" Aaron exclaimed, laughing at his brother's drama. "C'mon, you were already taking those pills, you told me, why the bug?"

"Dunno. I just hate meds."

"But you need them. Otherwise..."

"I'm gonna die. I know..."

Aaron had been impressively attentive about Traviz's health diagnosis. The news had cautiously passed from G.Klo', to Nate, then to Aaron. Traviz was about to forget about his 'thank God I don't have AIDS, just a Herpes thing' issue when Aaron had cornered him in the corridor and made him sit down and talk. He had never seen that nigga talking so serious. That seemed so wrong.

"Death passed right next to ya, a bunch of times," he had said. "She took pity on you 'cause you're young and cool and stuff. So she thought 'Imma give him a chance'."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Death didn't take you, this time. But she will pass again." Aaron's voice went dark, and Traviz had almost shivered, shocked at the reggae nigga tetric wave. "So you gotta be damn strong, dude. Listen to the music and don't let her take ya."

Different from Nate, Aaron was not a guy talking about pragmatism. He had, not rarely, a smoky transcendent aura, that according to the guy himself, was thanks to his 'vibe' pillows. Loko. Aaron had inherited some of G.Klo's preaching thoughts and distorted them in a weird limbic way. Well, it could be eccentric and nonsense sometimes, but the guy had some deep stuff. Most of the time Traviz would find himself looking above, feeling the vibe circling him and trying to convince him that what he had just heard was worth a million mindfucks.

"Death's a bitch. Life's a gift." Aaron stood up, pointing at a frozen trembling Traviz. "That's all on you, bro."

After the pep-talk, Aaron became a little more practical, probably because Nate was afraid Traviz would not decipher the scrambling fog.

"Take those pills, Tiger," Aaron said. "Lucky you only got yourself Herpes. I had all the fucking combo STD. Except for the AIDS crack. I'm a blessed dude, too. Life's great... Oh, and use condoms. I know it sucks, but you'll get used to..."

After the early morning's chat in G.Klo's room, Traviz's consciousness cracked open, and it almost hurt, because it was all at once. Now he knew the story behind his black father, that his black father had been rich, that his family had tried to succeed but ended up more fucked up than before because the world had gone nuts - and now he understood why - and that his parents died. Now he knew why Gretta was such a pineapple bitch, and despite all that, G.Klo' was a fucking nice brother, and he still loved that bitch. Crazy. Not only he loved her, but he thought it was his fault he hadn't saved her. Now he knew about the drug dark world, a world that had almost grasped him, that had almost killed him or made him a real assassin. He shot his dad. He had been so close to cross the dark line, to hold hands with death and play some bloody game. And Traviz would shiver and burst into tears, thinking of the dirt he had stepped on and eaten.

But the consciousness made him see that there were people holding him tight, that there were brothers telling him they had been through similar shits. And it was true. Nate and Aaron had fucked up childhoods, too, but they were both there, cool, being awesome supportive bros. The message was clear and simple: "We're good, now. So will you.". Everything would be okay, he would not get kicked out, he wouldn't have to hold a gun, there would be no starving, no fearing the shadows, no running with cold sweat.

He was inside The Crib, the most awesome place in the fucking world. Why? Because everything had begun right there, at that funny yellowish hot building. The first brothers, the first sparks of light, the first steps, the first stereos, the first reunion, the first mess, the first family. The Crib was the foundation of everything he loved. And what the hell, it was the place where dance had popped out, the pre-existence of Levion. It was too much to take at a single shot. After gulping down for weeks, the new message was clear.

Fuck the firsts. Who's gonna be the next?

He wanted it back. He wanted to retake the first step. He wanted to come back. He wasn't a thirteen-year-old baby anymore, it was not shelter he needed only. He needed proof that that place was meant for him and that he was meant for that place. A certificate. A stamp. A mark. A trophy. He wanted to feel the undeniable shit that yes, he belonged to that beautiful mess.

I belong to The Crib. I belong to those motherfuckers. This goddamn family belongs to me.

G.Klo' had tossed the words once:

"Keep it real, show your feelings, and they will, too. Earn their respect. That's how things work 'round here. And in the rest of the world."

And he had vowed, he had made a promise, that there would be a trophy he'd get, that there would be a spot he'd reach. He had spoken the strong words, he had firmly stated that he'd get there, that he'd go for it.

"I CAN."

And the words were hanging in the air, waiting for him to catch them back. Because there was no turning back. Nothing at his back was worth turning, so he'd go forward, forever. If death poked him with a smirk, he'd throw a 'fuck you', kick her ass out of his face and keep running and jumping and doing all those things he knew so well.

I just go.

I want it, I'm getting it, I'm going for it.

Smiling with himself in the pitch dark of his room, Traviz reached for his epic survival mp3 and put his earphones on.

"WDA... schools around the world..."

So there were battles beyond the street battles. There were world battles. With people who lived in another damn country, with a funny face and a weird language. And they'd battle with you, and not only East St.Vicent would know you, but the whole world... That was mad. That was frightening. That was damn awesome.

"Levion, Elluen and Appa."

"Until last year, Levion had won three consecutive times."

Why not win always?

"Yes, boy. Oh, yes."

The curtains blew at the sweet night breeze, and Traviz pressed play.

"Who's the best dancer, Uncle G?"

Me, maybe? How about that?

He tripped so hard on the ground that Nate, who lived downstairs, heard the thud and appeared at the door.

"You alright?"

"Hm, yeah... Argh..."