Stones Diary: Built for Pressura' 2

Chapter 60.) Plain Sight

13-year-old Lucky

Went into the store just to get a beer. Came out as an accessory to murder and armed robbery. It's funny like that in the hood sometimes. You never knew what was gonna happen, or when. After that, I knew it was gonna be a long summer.

"Ra, I know you ain't watching that movie again!" Zoya yelled from the kitchen as Lucky attempted to watch Menace to Society for the third time.

"What's wrong with it?" he quirked a brow as if she could see him.

"You don't need to be watching it, gon' mess around and give you the wrong idea about life. Turn it off!"

Deciding to ignore her, Lucky continued staring at the screen. Moments later, he felt his skin being pinched followed by the TV screen going black.

"What I say?"

"Come on ma," he groaned, rubbing his arm, "same stuff in tha' movie happening out here. We in tha' ghetto just like dem."

Zoya's eyes bucked briefly, "excuse me?"

Unsure if he should repeat himself, Lucky just stared at her.

"Where in tha' heck did you get dat from?"

"Have you seen tha' neighborhood? Our crib? Tha' junkies? I know you see dem hot boys 'round tha' corner shooting dice and selling."

Shaking her head, Zoya sat beside him and massaged her temples before speaking, "just because we are not rich does not mean we are in or are ghetto. What did I tell you about talking down on yourself?"

"Technically I'm referring to tha' neighborhood... what's wrong wit dat tho?"

"You sitting here watching these hood movies fantasizing, das' tha' problem, Ra," she stated. "that's tha' problem with our damn community now, always wanna mimic something we ain't just 'cause it looks fun. It is not fun being forced to do what you need just to survive when you got these rich folks talking down and looking down at us like we're tha' problem. What is ghetto about you? Not a damn thing."

"I'm watching some'n dat sums up our life, ma," he stressed. "where we stay is tha' hood, it is not dat complicated to understand."

"You ain't nun but thirteen," she plucked his forehead, "I don't see you riding with tha' top down, slangin', or drinking a forty every chance you get. I don't care what you see on TV or around tha' corner, none of those movies are in relation to you, do you hear me?"

Lucky remained quiet.

"Rams-"

"We are living in poverty," he cut her off, "people die almost every day here. People rob each other in broad daylight. Crackheads roam dis block and tha' next ones daily. Cops killing dudes dat look like me. People dat look like me killing each other. Teachers look at me funny if I come in saying stuff tha' way they 'ont like. Dat movie just like tha' others, sums up a black man living without tha' luxuries others get to enjoy in life. Like it or not, it's truth."

"It's not your truth," taking the remote, Zoya stood and made her way into the kitchen.

"But it is," he argued, "just 'cause you don't want to believe it ma, it's how I feel. You can't fault me for dat when you raised me to speak up and if I feel like dis is our ghetto, so be it."

Backtracking, Zoya stood in the hallway and placed her hands on her hips, "Excuse you?"

"I'm not trying to disrespect you."