Tagger

Chapter 21 -- Tightening Up

33

Friday morning

7:00 a.m. was jarring. Kimo groped for the alarm clock, knocking over the nightstand lamp in the process. Rob remained deep in Nodland on the couch, unaware of the jiggling clock. Kimo rolled over, eyes still shut, and mumbled, "Ahh bed, you feel so good." His cell phone rang. No winning this battle today.

A familiar voice on the other end got to the point. "Kimo. Kimo! Pick up, pick up. Pick up the damn phone." Rob pulled a pillow over his head.

Kimo slipped into the bathroom. "What do you want, Liz?"

I want you to get your butt out of bed before I come over and kick it out. Don't make me hurt you."

"Yeah, you and whose army?"

"Oooh, little hermano's waking up. I remind you today's a school day. You owe Mom and me to be there and finish the year strong. Just because Rob's suspended doesn't mean you get a free pass because he's staying with you." 

Kimo mumbled and stumbled for the bathroom as Liz kept after him, "And because it's Friday doesn't mean you get a day off. Growing up is doing what you don't always want to do. You said that to me once. Don't let us down. See you at school!" Bam. She was gone.

After a quick shower and shave, Kimo dressed and made coffee. Rob had work at 11:00, so it was okay for him to sleep in. Mom liked Roberto, treated him like a son, so his sleeping over was never a problem.

Kimo brought in The Los Angeles Times and dove into the sports pages. Ten minutes later, he snatched his backpack and bolted out the door, ready for the week's last school day.

He finished off a hardboiled egg for protein as he pulled into the quiet student lot at ten to eight. Kimo locked his car and headed for the front of school where buses would arrive. Fernie and a uniformed officer from Montebello's P.D. chatted curbside when the first bus pulled up. The only time a uniformed cop came on campus was if there'd been a major fight the day before. This marked the third time in the past six months at Chavez High.

Friday's bus was only one-third full; most days it's packed. Yesterday's fight at school was reason enough for most kids to stay home. Parents, worried for their kid's safety, feared a potentially dangerous aftermath, an area of mutual concern shared by many students.

An old '51 Chevy, often referred to affectionately in the Latino community as a cucaracha, neared campus, packed with cholos and blaring loud music. Fernie and the patrolman stepped into the street when they noticed the suspicious vehicle. The police officer unsnapped his holster with one hand and drew a walkie-talkie to his mouth with the other. The gangsters' ride, catching the cop's moves, wasted no time and churned a quick U-turn, leaving Chavez High in the dust.

Fernie and the officer returned to the curb to await the next school bus. A police car raced by, hot on the heels of the old Chevy. The officer behind the wheel tooted at his colleague and Fernie. Both security men waved back.

Hanging around and waiting for the Bell Gardens bus to arrive, Kimo overheard Fernie tell the cop he'd recruited three male teachers to follow Chavez's three school buses on their routes home. Each teacher would be accompanied by Fernie or a school district security officer to ensure there'd be no retaliations on student riders.

None of Kimo's crew was aboard the B.G. bus. Markie, a party crew member, hopped off. "Hey, Jaime, what's shakin'?" Markie went into his spiel. "Hey, dog. You coming to our party tomorrow night? Here's a flyer. Hope we see you there. Lots of curvy women and great dance music. Could be brewskis will find their way into our party. Know what I mean? We're where you want to be tomorrow. Bring your friends. Cover's only ten bucks a head."