Product Of The Environment

By Shawn Hicks

Within the concrete jungle of New York City, four seniors in high school try to persevere through an urban atmosphere made up of crime, abuse, and neglect, as they attempt to figure out life and succeed in the process.

Yvonne struggles with her family’s domestic violence, as well as with her ties to a female gang, as she figures out what to do after graduation. Marlon, who aggressively suffers from Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, tries to straighten up and avoid going back to prison in spite of when his behavior leads him out of control. Treyshawn moves to start a music career while dealing with a family broken from incarceration and addiction, as he follows down the same path through his own illicit activities. And Tonya, a young parent, struggles to graduate and pursue her dreams in spite of having no support and dealing with circumstances that could bring catastrophe for both her and her child.

Gripping, provocative, and even funny, Product Of The Environment will make you contemplate the lives of young adults as they come of age within the unforgiving inner cities of America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawn Hicks
• Release date: Jan 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301147274

Shawn Hicks

Shawn Hicks is the C.E.O. and President of Brok'n English Publications, with the goal of providing a medium for telling his literary works. He received his A.A.S in Video Arts from Borough of Manhattan Community College, and he's currently recieving is B.A. from Brooklyn College for Television & Radio, and Film Studies. He currently lives in Brooklyn, New York. Along with publishing, BEP has created a subsidiary company called Brok'n TV, with the intention to develop and produce television and internet content.

Book preview

PART ONE: JANUARY

CHAPTER 1

Why the hell aren’t you making me breakfast?

Who are you yelling at like that?

I’m yelling at you. I just came in from work and you in here cooking me nothing?

Maybe if you had told me when you would be in there be something out for you.

Woman, you know what time I come home. And you know I want to eat when I get here. You’re not fine to be sitting on your ass. Cook me some food.

Now I ain’t making you nothing. I ain’t no slave so you go cook your own food.

Yvonne Martinez opens her eyes to their noise, and reactively sucks her teeth to the way she’s forced to wake up. As the yelling continues, Yvonne tucks her head in her quilt to drown them out. She then buries her head under her pillow. Then, after she practically wraps herself in her bedding like a cocoon to no avail, she gives up trying to go back to sleep, and with a mouthful of crankiness says loudly for them to hear, WHY DON’T Y’ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Silence. Hmm, it worked. Nope, it was only a pause.

See, Yvonne hears her say to him. You woke her up.

The hell with that lying thief, he responds. I’m ready to kick her out anyway.

You ain’t kicking no one out. You can leave if you don’t like her being here.

He scoffs. I should leave so I can watch you fall flat on your ass. ‘Cause you can’t take care of yourself. Sloppy idiot!

Oh, I’m an idiot? I’m smart enough to call your job last night. And your boss said you weren’t there. You had the whole night off.

Silence again. Yvonne smirks. Yeah, she got you now.

Who you talk to? he says. You ain’t talked to my supervisor.

You didn’t work last night. You were probably back with that whore you like being with!

Shut your mouth.

You probably was all up in that nasty ass of hers, letting out that stupid growl you do like you’re a lion. You’re lyin’, alright. At least that hoe gets money for wasting her time.

You better shut up before I beat the taste out of your mouth, he says to her with meaning.

Whatever, Yvonne concludes, as she decides to get up. With that Yvonne goes to her dresser; positioned in front of her door to guard access in her bedroom as she sleeps, and pushes it away to begin her daily grind.

Yuck, Yvonne goes, once catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. The weekend had done little in helping her recoup. She looks ugly as hell. Yvonne then turns on the faucets to begin repairing the damage, when a loud and violent smack resounds, followed by pots clanging onto the floor. Yvonne perks up. Past the bathroom, silence. Then whimpering.

Good for you, Yvonne hears him say. Loudmouth bitch.

I told you to stop hitting me, whimpers the woman with tears. You good for nothing bastard.

Then the yelling starts again. Yvonne just shrugs and returns her focus back on her.

Once cleaning herself Yvonne goes back into her room and gets dressed for the day. Before leaving, and with the notion of having some fun at their expense, Yvonne then searches through her jacket for something. Once finding it she pulls one from its pack, and as she walks to the kitchen, she lights it up without care, daring them to respond.

From there Yvonne sees them; the woman feverishly working around the stove as smells and sounds of cooking hits the senses. And the man, at the table, slopping up his meal. He then looks up when feeling tension towards him, and once noticing Yvonne’s scowl, straightens and throws one back at her.

Who you looking at like that? he goes.

"Nothing much, madicore," she replies.

Yvonne’s mother, hearing the raw words turns and shows her right eye, swelling and blackening from the recent beating.

Leave your father alone, Yvonne’s mother says. And put out that cigarette. I told you before there’s no smoking in my house.

Yvonne throws another scowl, before dropping the lit cigarette on the floor and walking out the front door. Yvonne then scoffs. He’s not her father and it’s been years since she made her breakfast.

7:28 AM, goes Yvonne’s watch, as she checks for the time while walking to the subway station. Hmm. She’s early. No need to rush then. With that Yvonne searches for another one of her vices. Not the cigarettes. The other one. After checking her knapsack she finds it, and from there Yvonne crack open the $3 flask of vodka, and downs it in her mouth in a few gulps. She lets out a cringe before tossing the empty bottle away. Now she can handle the world, until she needs another one. Yvonne resumes her course slowly into the subway station, making the four block walk there last nearly twenty minutes, and once inside goes all the way to the end so she can enter the last car of the train. Not many people venture into the last car. They’re afraid that someone like her would rob them there. They’re probably right.

Several stops later, Yvonne strolls with the abundance of teenagers that get off the train, as they all head to the same destination. She checks her watch again. 7:28. Huh? That’s the same time as before. She then frowns, catching the second hand of the timepiece stuck in position. Dammit! She better not be late and incur any snide remarks from that first period Math teacher of hers, Ms. Gionne, a.k.a. Dragon Breath. Yvonne continues with the herd as they enter A.G. Gaston High School. With its row of police cars in front and its lobby packed with students waiting to get past the checkpoint of metal detectors and security officers. There she rechecks the time, from the overhead clock on the wall. She frowns. She’s ten minutes late. Piece of shit watch!

Well, Miss Martinez, spits out Ms. Gionne, when Yvonne enters the classroom in progress. I see you’re running on your schedule as usual.

Yvonne answers by throwing a sneer at her teacher before taking a seat with the other students.

I shouldn’t bother asking, says Ms. Gionne, since you’re dead set on failing this class again, but do you have your homework?

Yvonne smiles. Maybe it’s because she’s insolent. Or maybe it’s the liquor. She has to say it.

My dog masturbated on it, Yvonne fangs. Spread cheese all over it. Y’ wanna’ lick?

The class responds with laughter and hollers, as Ms. Gionne goes to her desk and marks a note into her evaluation book, shooting disgust at Yvonne in the process.

OK class, settle down, Ms. Gionne then says once rising from her desk. Let’s get back to work. We’re not going to let those that don’t care about themselves stop us from receiving an education. Some of us are just born to lose.

Ooohh, goes a few in the classroom. Ms. Gionne trying to dis back.

Dis her mama, someone says. Dis her mama.

Yvonne just stares at Ms. Gionne as the lecture soon brings the students back to their schoolwork. Yvonne folds her arms across her chest. Fuck you too. Don’t be outside when there’s no cops around. You’ll get robbed with the quickness. Dragon breath bitch! Yvonne then lets out an ironic and alcoholic smirk.

Oh yeah, Yvonne concludes. This is gonna’ be a good day.

CHAPTER 2

Tonya Wittaker walks down the street with a feeling of letdown weighting on her along the heavy knapsack over her shoulders. She squints from the sunshine beaming down and moves to the more shady ground of the city streets, where its bleakness matches her mood. She don’t want any sunshine and its bright reminder to appreciate another day. She rather keep her woe. For she wasted her entire morning for nothing, she’s exhausted from being up for half of the night, and this pants suit is making her sweat and her feet are barking from these high heels. So leave her alone, sunny cheer. And all these guys that are out here too, leave her alone. At least the ones that keep trying to talk to her.

Hey mama, says one that tries to get her attention. That ass is nice and fat.

Sexy, can I holla’ at you for a minute? goes another.

Damn girl, why you look mean? You need someone like me to bring joy to your life.

Tonya just rolls her eyes to their disrespect, and to tune them out she focuses on her gender, as some also pass by. Some wear business attire and carry shopping bags. Some talk into their cell phones. All strut to make others avoid them like hurricanes. Haughty, self-righteous heifers. And how much she wants to be one of them. Too bad the first steps are so hard for her, how day after day her job hunting rises to disappointment. Even minimum wage rejects her. Like today.

How old are you? She recalls being asked an hour ago.

Nineteen.

And you’re still in high school?

Yes, but I will graduate this June. So I can work part time right now and then in the summer I can go in full time with the experience learned.

Tonya remembers the man at his desk, being a judgmental prick as he frowns his face while looking over her application. Do you speak Spanish?

I’ve taken it in school. So I’m sure I’ll be fine with it.

We need bilingual candidates with computer experience. And it’s a position that would need you to be flexible for different shifts.

I can get a babysitter to accommodate for the time. And it would only be for a few months and then I can put in what you need. So there’s nothing stopping you from hiring me.

The man once more expressed dissatisfaction. Well, we don’t have anything now. But I’ll keep your application on file, and if something comes up you’ll be called.

Judgmental prick! How hard is it to be in customer service? Just answer the phone and take orders. Tonya then shakes her head. Most of the jobs she applied for wanted college degrees and experience. Some offer seasonal work or commission. They all pay nothing. Well, perhaps these are signs for her to give up and stay in her lane. Maybe she shouldn’t even bother going to school. She don’t need a high school diploma. She has pretty looks and a big booty. There’s always street corners for a potential hoe like her.

Tonya then smiles. OK, enough. Her mother always said thinking negative never got anyone anywhere. Tonya then stops to looks into a store window to check her reflection. Blah! Tonya rummages through her knapsack, and with a small roller and a comb, and with her semi professional hands, retouches her sleek ponytail and the curly strands from her temples. Then with a little lipstick and eye shadow reapplied, she takes another look. Much better. She may have a life full of drama, but she can at least carry herself with some sense of worth. Tonya crosses to the sunny side of the street and continues.

Tonya approaches Gaston High. Without any of the police cars stationed out front. They usually leave their post around noon and come back around two. Great. Now she has to go through the bunch of misfits that are loitering at the front. They notice her as she heads toward the school entrance. They stare as she passes. She can feel their greedy eyes on her.

How you doing, baby? she hears behind her. Can I talk to you for a minute?

Yo’ ma. Just give me a moment. You ain’t never heard no better shit.

She continues without saying a word. She’s about twenty feet from the front doors. Twenty feet to safety. Tonya then hears footsteps behind her, and turns to see one of the misfits dart to her.

What’s up shorty? the young man says as he reaches her. You looking tight today. What’s your name?

As Tonya walks she shoots a mean look at the sun. You can’t give her a break, can you?

I hear you, the guy says as he walks with her. You’re on that don’t wanna’ be bothered shit right now. Girls are like that sometimes. I’m saying I like what I’m seeing from you. You got on the million dollar suit, looking all high society. How about we get to know each other?

I don’t talk to strangers.

You don’t talk to strangers? I’m not gonna’ kidnap you. We just gonna’ pop a little with each other.

Yeah, well, I’m in a rush. I have to go now.

Tonya reaches the doors of the school, but as she grabs the handle, the guy pivots in front of her to block her path, making her stop suddenly.

Hold up, now. I’m tryin’ to be all nice and you coming at me acting light skin. Pull back with that ‘cause I didn’t do nothing to you.

This guy is about as delightful as the chicken pox, and he reeks of marijuana. And what’s with the light skin comment? She’s more of a caramel complexion, but it’s still offensive. Good thing Tonya learned that in these situations one needs the tact of the bomb squad. Because no one wants these to blow up on them.

Yeah, you’re right, Tonya says to him. My bad. I’m just having a bad day.

So I’m saying, I just came over to introduce myself. My name’s Bane. What’s your name?

Tammy, Tonya lies.

Tammy? Alright. I’m just saying you look like a girl that needs someone strong by your side. Someone to get things popping for you. That’s me right here. So how about I share your world and you share mine?

Sorry, but I have a man already.

Still. You and me can do our thing. You can’t have enough friends in this world.

I don’t stray with what I got. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a class to get to. Please have a good day.

Tonya then opens the door with a gentle swing so she doesn’t bump into him, and steps inside the school lobby. She don’t see the security officers. Oh, there they are, past the checkpoint and at a desk posted nearby. Tonya takes one stride to the checkpoint, when she feels a strong tug on her arm, making her stop again. She turns to see Bane, clutching onto her arm. Tonya pulls back sharply.

Don’t mean to be aggressive, Bane replies, but I’m a persistent motherfucker. What I want is what I get. And I got no problem taking care of mine. Bane then goes into his pocket and with lavishness pulls out a considerable amount of money. Come feel me and we can go shopping right now. Those new pair of Deréon Jeans are just calling for your ass, baby.

Tonya’s eyes admit her need when seeing the roll. She could use a pair of jeans. Plus she can get a manicure and definitely clothes for Stephon… Then Tonya looks into Bane’s acne ridden face. His teeth are jagged and the irises of his eyes are crackled with yellow. She can’t see herself with this guy. Not the normal kind, at least. Tonya eyes then falls into the insides of his jacket that’s partially zipped, and to the metal object hiding within it.

You got a gun on you? she responds alarmingly.

Keep that down ma, Bane glows manically as he gaze toward the security officers. They’re still at their desk, away from earshot. Don’t yell that for them to hear. The fuck wrong with you?

Oh hell no. It’s time to evacuate before this bomb explodes.

Hold up, Bane says, Where are you going? Give me your number.

Tonya stops at the checkpoint, which immediately catches the attention of one of the officers. She promptly shows her school ID.

Don’t ignore me. I hate it when y’all do that. Ain’t like you’re that cute. Stuck up bitch!

Yo’, bellows the security officer once reaching the lobby. You got a problem?

What? Bane responds with more compliance in his tone. Naw man. This chick just acting like she’s made of gold bars or sumtin’.

Well, she’s ain’t feeling you, so head back outside before I throw you out.

Bane glares at Tonya and the security officer before he retreats, slamming the front door of the school behind him.

Was that guy bothering you? the officer asks Tonya.

Everyone bothers me, responds Tonya. The security officer waves the hand held detector around her and scans her knapsack before suggesting her inside. Tonya goes on, and although indoors, shoots another mean look at the sun.

CHAPTER 3

Hold up. When did all of this happen?

Last period. About half an hour ago.

Where were the cops?

There were none outside, says Tonya. The security officer at the lobby chased him away.

He had a gun though. All these cops around and peoples here can still stroll in strapped?

The officer didn’t know that. And I wasn’t telling. No idea how this guy would reacted. Tonya then takes a french fry from her tray as she sits at a lunchroom table, with her friend Symone.

I would’ve cursed his monkey ass out, sterns Symone. These niggers don’t know how to act no more. I would’ve came at him, his mother, his fat sister, and his unknown sperm donor daddy.

Tonya lets out a light chuckle from the slander. I just couldn’t say anything. This guy was crazed. I wanted to get away from him.

That’s ‘cause you’re from the South, and y’all into that hospitality crap. Right here though this is New York. The crazy ones are the ones who aren’t insane. With that big Montgomery bus boycott ass you got you gonna’ have them swarming if you don’t do something.

Don’t joke on my ass, heifer.

That ain’t ass. That’s farmland. You can grow tomatoes on that.

You just jealous, chides Tonya, because your behind so small you need to hold your breath to push out a fart.

Symone laughs. I don’t need a big ass. As long as I don’t fall into the toilet when I’m on it, I’m OK.

Tonya sips some chocolate milk, hearing the sound of the straw pull in the last of it from the container. Seriously, Symone continues, you gotta’ show you ain’t taking mess from nobody. Otherwise they’ll come at you again. The next time these guys get out of hand you do this.

Then, with pure impulsivity, Symone stands up and throws away her knapsack, having it spin in the air before it thuds onto the nearest wall.

WHO ATE MY DAMN MEATBALL?! rages Symone abruptly for all to here. I HAD FOUR MEATBALLS IN MY HERO AND NOW THERE’S THREE! SOMEONE HERE ATE MY MEATBALL!

Tonya slides away to the far end of the table in shock and embarrassment, as practically everyone within earshot turns to Symone.

I PAID $3.50 FOR THIS NASTY FOOD AND I CAN’T EVEN EAT IT BECAUSE YOU FREE LUNCH NIGGERS ARE GREEDY! Symone immediately points to a nearby onlooker. You! You took my meatball?

The young man looks at her like she is deranged. Ain’t no one took your meatball. You don’t even have a tray by you. The hell you sniffing?

Symone then points to another guy. You! You took my meatball?

No one here took your food.

Are you sure? Because you look famish like a motherfucker. Symone then responds with a smile and a kiss towards the guy, before looking under the table. Meatball? Where are you meatball? I’m not mad. You can come out. Please, meatball. Where are you my tasty meatball? Symone then gets up and skips around the table. I want my meeeetball, she goes. I want my meeeetball.

Many of the other students laugh and ridicule Symone as she continues her act. Tonya, however, feels overwhelmed from the attention around her and decides to pull away. She heads back to the cafeteria for another chocolate milk. Symone won’t miss her. She loves the fanfare.

On the other end of the lunchroom, Marlon Dupree looks through his Science book, trying to grab some of its information for his test next period. His mind and body however are too strung on hyperactivity for him to focus. He wonders what the noise down the lunchroom is about. Did his mother told him to do something today? And where’s this kid with his food? Then three young ladies past his table. One of them turns slyly to look at him, showing admiration for his athletic frame. Marlon winks and waves to her. Now what was he thinking about? Then a ring tone grabs Marlon’s attention, completely pulling him away from all this thoughts altogether.

M for murder, he says in answering his cell phone. What’s popping?

What’s up, son? It’s his friend Jabar. Where you at?

In the lunchroom. Where you?

Me and Keith are in the third floor bathroom. He’s been talking about whipping my ass in Spades, so I need a partner to shut him up. Where Trey at?

Marlon looks at the guy across the lunch table from him, who with headphones on bobs his head while silently mouthing rhymes as he scribbles into his notebook.

He’s right here trying to be the next big thing. He sounds more like shit hitting a bed pan though.

Treyshawn Kendal, without pausing from his tasks, throws a middle finger at Marlon. Marlon smiles in response.

We’ll be there in a few, says Jabar How’s the security down there?

Asleep. You can slip through them. Call me when you’re at the back doors so I can let you in.

Alright, Jabar says before hanging up.

Marlon hangs up his cell phone, and goes into his knapsack to rip out a piece of paper from his notebook. He then balls it up and throws it at Treyshawn for his attention.

Man, says Treyshawn with disgust as he halts his I Pod. What you want?

Jabar and Keith are coming down, Marlon says. So stop with all of that static you’re spitting.

Static? You don’t know good lyrics when you hear it. That’s why God gave some of us talent and the rest of you hands to clean up after us.

That ain’t talent. That’s just noise you’re rattling off. I’ve heard better noise from the dentist.

I’m not listening to you. I know I’m primed to snatch up a deal, and when I do I’m gonna’ have all the rides and all the shorties breaking me off backstage. You gonna’ want to knock on the door then, but nooooo, you can’t come in.

Platinum? scoffs Marlon. You couldn’t get silverware for all that. Why don’t you do something more suited for you? How about a janitor? Or scrape up road kill? I can see you doing that for the rest of your life.

Treyshawn wears a smile. Your mother scrapes road kill. That’s how she feeds your ass.

What? You trying to dis? Don’t go there.

Why not? Your mother went there. She’s such a hoe she wears fishnets to catch her crabs.

Marlon’s mind gleefully plays along. Your mother so fat when it’s hot she smell like swine meat.

Your mother so old she got souvenirs from Jesus.

Your mother so dirty she pees mud.

Treyshawn laughs before throwing his middle finger again at Marlon. Just then a lanky looking kid walks over to Marlon with a tray of food. He places it on the table. Here you go, Marlon, goes the kid.

Ah, good looking shorty, responds Marlon, scanning the food. I thought you forgotten about me. You were up in the cafeteria for a minute.

Well, begins the kid, standing awkwardly. Some guys skipped the line and forced their way up.

Man, don’t let niggers punk you like that. You should’ve told them to back up. You hear me?

Yeah, I hear you. Uh, can I get that now?

Marlon with scrutiny looks over the kid, who clothes are from last year and who haircut needs reshaping. He even has the nerve to wear garish looking glasses. Nerds. Gotta’ love them.

Yeah. I got it, Marlon says before going back into his knapsack and retrieving a prescription bottle with his name on it. Then with the outstretched hand of the kid, pour two pills to him. Take one of these an hour before a test and the other right before. It’ll make you so focused you’ll see microwaves.

Yeah, I heard you gave one to a kid who took the S.A.T’s a few months ago. He’s going to U Conn.

I love giving a hand to higher education. Now where’s my money?

Yeah, says the kid solemnly before pulling out a thin fold of bills. He hands it to Marlon, who scan the dollars before putting them in his pocket.

But seriously, reworks Marlon, you can’t let nobody blast by you like that. You can save being tender for where it fits, but dudes here will slit your throat if they think you can’t guard yours.

Yeah. I hear you. I gotta’ go. See ya’. With that the kid scoots away.

As Marlon watches his buyer go he feels sympathy for him. Shame the kid’s a sucker. But then again such roles are needed for the social order of things. There’s tricks and there’s pimps, and there’s all there is. Good thing for him he’s not worried about being on the wrong side of