This is the story of a broken girl crumbling. This is the story of a single garment. This is a story about Ronin, I guess, and a driveway. This is a story of the Waynesville High School Mafia.
The Mafia was started by accident, I guess. A slip of the tongue made by an, at that time, enemy. And me and Spike and Nozzle are in a basement.
“He said what?” Nozzle said.
“No, no, no, wait, wait, back up all the way,” Spike said. “Tell us everything that happened.”
“Well, I was in Health class. I sat down at the table. The black guys that have been givin’ us trouble, three of them sat around me. It was a big desk, held four chairs. The loudmouth one—”
“The skinny one?”
“Yeah, him. He’s talking about how he doesn’t like the way I’m dressed and he doesn’t like the way I’m lookin’ at him.”
“What did you say back to him?” Nozzle asked.
“Well I asked him what he meant and he said that I was lookin’ at him like I was the devil. I told him, ‘You haven’t seen the devil yet, but I can show you.’”
Spike and Nozzle exploded. Spike started laughing. He elbowed Nozzle. Nozzle had a huge smile on his face, shaking his head. See, we were just a few kids, crouched in a nearly bare basement, trying to be tough.
Spike said his grandmother had been one of the greatest katana wielders in Japan before the war. He said she had taught him how to fight. And he was fast. And he was good. Thin hands, big knuckles. He had long hair, short bangs. He was attractive and wildly charismatic. And he was cruel. He was cruel to his brother, Nozzle. Nozzle had a different last name but the same father. He had been rejected by the grandmother, and he was the butt of every joke except those that came out of my mouth.
So we’re three weeks into school. I’ve already gotten into two fights. I lost one and won the other. There’s a movie out there. Don’t remember what it’s called. Has Jake Gyllenhaal as a cop. There’s a scene where him and his partner are trying to arrest a gangster. They’re in his house. They have him nailed down. Guns pointed at him. Everybody’s yelling.
“GET DOWN ON THE FUCKIN’ FLOOR!”
And the gangster looks at the cops and says, “You’re only a badass because of that badge and that gun. Without them, you’re nothing.” Jake’s partner takes his badge off and puts his gun down. He points at Jake and says, “No matter what happens, if he beats me, you let him win.” And they fight. Gangster’s bigger, and they work it out. In the end, the cop does win. The gangster goes in, gets arrested without struggle.
Later the gangster is being made fun of by his crew, because word has got out what happened. The gangster said, “I squabbled. Squabblin’ is gangster whether you win or lose.” So the first fight in Waynesville High School was me against another guy, and I lost. It was fast and nobody saw it, but everybody heard about it. The thing they liked was that, even though it was a bigger guy, I hadn’t backed down. Junior or senior, and this two-week-old freshman had fought him fearlessly.
Because squabbling is gangster, whether you win or lose. That night in the basement was when the Waynesville High School Mafia was born. Just the three of us.
They asked a lot of questions, and I explained to them that I was wearing church clothes. Everything else was dirty. White button up shirt. Black dress pants. Black shoes. And a black trench coat. They asked about my clothes. The kids in that Health class didn’t like my clothes, didn’t like the way I was dressed.
“What’s wrong with the way you’re dressed?”
“It’s a little, I don’t know…”
“Shut up, Nozzle, I was asking a question. What’s wrong with the way you’re dressed?”
Nozzle flinched back and I answered him. “I think it’s because I look like a gangster.”
Well, that was a Friday night, and Saturday afternoon I was in the car. I had convinced my mom that I wanted to look better at church, and she had immediately taken me up to Lebanon, where the clothing outlet store was. I got two more white shirts, both button up the front. Another pair of black pants. And I got a black shirt that buttoned up, and a gray. This was my primary wardrobe for the first semester of my freshman year.
I got ahold of a gold plated ring that fit my middle finger, but when I was wearing my black gloves, it fit my pinky. That’s when it was all born.
Spike was dating Less. She was furious that she wasn’t being feared around the school. She went from classroom to classroom insulting as many Black kids and Hispanic kids as she could. And the first two months were hell. Everywhere there was trouble. The only way we could keep people off of us were displays of power. We started taking jobs.
“This kid stole my purse and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Nozzle shoulders him, spins him around. He’s facing me. He takes a punch to the face that knocks him to the ground. My fist in his hair, my forearm shoving his face into the concrete. “Bring her purse back.” And we’re moving on.
It was that fast. All the hits were planned out. Nothing ever went too far. Around this time was when I bought my scarf. It was a very simple black cotton scarf that I wore everywhere. Even in classes when I didn’t have my trench coat, I was wearing my scarf. I became known for it. I was wearing it the very day that the biggest trouble came to us. My sister had been running her mouth. Me and Spike and Less were walking in front of the school. We turn around and there are four big Black kids. Well, two of them are seniors, two of them are juniors. Me and Spike can take them, but we have Less. Spike tells Less to continue around the side of the school, go behind the metal building where the rough kids hang out, and wait for us. Her response is to start screaming, clawing the air, cussing, thrashing. Spike has to hold her back. She’s out of control. The four kids laugh. I turn to Spike, “Get her out of here.”
“Come with us,” Spike said.
“No, you have to go. If I come with you, anywhere we go, they’ll go. I have to distract them.”
“You’re going to get your ass kicked.”
Shadow smiled. “I’m not afraid of an ass kickin’. Now go.”
I kept walking. They were close behind me now. I walked around the side of the building to a small parking lot, and I sat down on a little half wall of concrete and waited. They came around the building laughing.
“That bitch is crazy!” one of them said.
“Nah, man, nah, she’s possessed by the devil.”
“Ain’t that your sister? Maybe you’re possessed by the devil, too,” another one said.
They were forming a half circle around me now, and I was scared. I was very scared. Then he showed up. I’ve referred to him before, but never told very many stories about him. His name is Ronin. He’s an alter and he is, well, I’ll show you.
“The devil. You think I’m possessed by the devil,” Ronin said. “Maybe I am, but only when I fight.”
“You know you about to get your ass kicked, right?”
“I’m not afraid to get my ass kicked,” Ronin said. He looked them all in the eye as he moved across the half circle. “Are you?”
“You crazy, white boy. You are crazy. But it all ends here. When we’re done with you, there ain’t gonna be no fight left in you.”
“I’m not stupid enough to believe that I can drop you all. Maybe one. So it is your job,” and I pointed to three of them, “to keep him,” Ronin stabbed his finger out at the biggest of them, “to keep him alive. So the three of you,” my eyes scanned as I spoke to them. “Just try to keep him alive, because he’s the one I’m goin’ for.”
Then Ronin stood. They all laughed nervously and walked away. But that was the catalyst. That was the interaction that caused it.
Spike meets me at the bus. “The black guys, they’re furious. I don’t know what you said that pissed them off so bad. I really wish I’d been there. Man, if only I’d of been there.” Spike made a fist, all hard knuckle. “We could’ve taken them, I’m sure. You on the big guy, me on the other three. It’s all mopped up.” He slid his hands against each other, slapping them.
“They got my message,” Ronin said.
“No, man, they’re pissed. They want a showdown. They wanna meet somewhere. Us and them.”
“The three of us against the four of them?” Ronin said.
Spike looked at his boots. “Yeah, yeah, something like that,” he stammered.
“What did you say?”
“Well, yeah, you know that big driveway out in front of your house.”
“You told them where I lived?”
“Yeah man, it’s not a problem. It’s not a problem at all. It’s cool.”
“What if they get past us and they get to my house?”
“You lock the door,” Spike said.
“Heavy boot or a strong shoulder will take that door down. Then they’re on Less or Grasp. Maybe they’re on my mom. I don’t believe you did this,” Ronin said.
“Look, it’s not a problem. You’re blowin’ this out of proportion. Just be ready. It’ll be sometime around five.”
Four fifteen, and my phone rings.
It’s Spike.
I don’t like the tremble in his voice.
“Yeah, okay, so there’s been some kinda misunderstanding,” Spike said.
“Where are you? We only have forty-five minutes.”
“Yeah, well, a friend of mine, he said they’re all coming.”
“What do you mean by ‘they’re all coming’?” Ronin said.
“Yeah, all the gangster black kids are coming to your house. I’m sorry! Listen, close all the windows, pull all the curtains, lock all the doors. When they knock on the door, just don’t answer. Or call the cops. Call the cops,” Spike said.
“We’ll deal with it when you get here. Get a ride and get here.”
“Yeah, see, that’s the thing, see, like, Nozzle really hurt his leg, and we can’t get a ride anyway.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Ronin said.
“Just lock up, man, hunker down,” Spike said, and he hung up.
It took Ronin four minutes to figure out what he was gonna do. He called Tony. Few words and Tony was on his way. He didn’t know why, or he wouldn’t have come. The next call was to Uncle Ball.
See, sometime in 2009 I think it was, I was living in Milwaukee with Rayph and Bekah, and she was pregnant with Willow, and I got a call from Uncle Ball. I hadn’t talked to him in years. He said he was gonna be in town. “Everybody’s meeting at…” and he named off an obnoxious bar.
“Who’s everybody?” Guardian said.
“Oh, I just put up on Facebook that I’m coming to Milwaukee and I’ll be at this particular bar at this particular time and… anyway, it’ll be a full house. You should, you should come.”
“It’s not my scene. Let me buy you dinner that night,” Guardian said.
“I have your Aunt Sass with me. Can’t shake her.”
“Bring her,” Guardian said.
“I get to see your wife again. What’s her name? Becky?”
It was a hard voice that originated from Guardian when he said, “You know my wife’s name. Her name is Bekah. And see, that’s not how this works. I don’t bring my family to meetings like this, no matter how harmless they are. We’ve been burned too many times. You have to understand, I’m cautious when it comes to my family.”
And he might not have liked the sentiment, but he recognized the voice. He knew not to brook argument with Guardian. So we met at Olive Garden. I got to see Aunt Sass again. She really was something to see.
We’re minutes into our meal when he sets down his fork. He looks at me over his lasagna, and he says, “Listen, I have to know. You have to tell me. You have to explain what happened that day in the driveway.”
At the time, I have no idea what he’s talking about. So he explains. He’s sitting at home doing nothing and his phone rings, and it’s me. He said, “You sounded mad but not mad. It wasn’t anger, it was…” A look of fear crossed his face. “I don’t know what it was.”
“Come to my house.”
“Why?” Uncle Ball said. “Somethin’ goin’ on?”
“Get here as fast as you can. Try to look mean.”
Well, the last part of that statement struck him as weird, but he looked across his lasagna. “But I figured you’d got in a fight with Less or something. Maybe your mom was being a bitch. I don’t know. I just blew it off ’cause I’m always there for you.” He looked at me that night, almost pleading, in Olive Garden. “I’m always there for you, so I jumped in the car and—”
Guardian interrupted. “Wouldn’t it have been the truck, the blue truck?”
“Yeah, the one we picked up from Milwaukee, from that bastard Uncle Savior. Anyway, I pull up to the house and you’re standing there with another guy, which I can only imagine is a friend of yours, and you had a staff in your hand. I’m askin’ what’s going on, and you’re not answering. That friend of yours,” he reaches for his watered down Coke and takes a long draw from his straw. “Yeah, he looks scared. He looks like the devil crawled in his ass and he’s afraid to fart.” Over the sight of his lasagna I saw him try on a laugh or a giggle.
“Anyway, the driveway starts filling up with cars. They’re on the far side. You know that driveway, it’s like a quarter of an acre of gravel. These black guys start piling out of the car. They all get in a line. So you gotta tell me what was going on that day. It’s haunted me for years.”
“Well that would’ve been in 1990.”
“Yeah, yeah, it was in 1990. It’s been 19 years. You just looked at me that day.” He shoved his lasagna to the middle of the table. Somehow he’d lost his appetite. “And you said, ‘Stay here and try to look mean.’ And then you just walked out to meet them. Jesse you just walked straight out there. I looked over at your friend and I said, ‘He doesn’t expect us to fight all those guys, does he?’ One of them came out to the middle. He was a monster, just an ape of a man, and you talked to him for awhile. Then they all got in their cars and they all drove away. You came back, told me I could go home, and I swear to God I was gonna get a speeding ticket on the way home. I couldn’t keep myself from going 20 over. So what was that about?”
Guardian looked at him and had no answer. He didn’t even try to make one up.
Right around this time, my freshmen year, first hour, I’m hanging out with Kit. By the end of the year, Kit will be my romantic nightmare. But for now, she’s just D’s girlfriend. She introduces me to a girl. The girl is beautiful, blonde, but not too blonde, maybe dirty blonde. Freckles on tan. Brown eyes. Poor clothes.
Kit tells me, “This is my friend Jasmine. She’s a foster kid. Her parents died.”
I turn from Kit, horrified, and turn to Jasmine, who just lowers her head.
“Figured you two could be friends,” Kit said.
Guardian reached out and Jasmine gave him her hand. He kissed her on the back of the hand and murmured, “It’s an honor to meet you.” Then the bell rang.
I dropped into my desk. Kit dropped into the desk behind me. Jasmine dropped into the desk behind Kit. Couple minutes into class, a note is tucked under my elbow. It’s written by Kit.
Do you like Jasmine, the note said.
I flipped it over and wrote on the back. I loved her the moment I saw her.
I didn’t have a lot of classes with Jasmine. In fact, we only shared first hour.
Kit called me one night. “I’m gonna tell you this, but you can’t tell Jasmine. There’s some kids in her third hour class, that Health class she takes…”
And I remember the big desk and the four chairs.
“Well there’s three of them and they sit with her every day. They say terrible things to her, Jesse. She doesn’t want me telling you because she doesn’t want you to fight them. She thinks you’ll get hurt. She says that they were talking about her parents. They say that her parents committed suicide so they could get away from her.”
“They said what?”
“Oh it gets worse,” Kit said. “They say that she killed her own parents because her dad raped her. They make fun of her for being an orphan. They told her it would be best if she killed herself.”
“I want names.”
“I promised her that I wouldn’t tell you any names. She doesn’t want me to bring you into it. You have to promise me you’re not going to say anything.”
Well, the next day in school, first hour, Jasmine runs to me. She walks into the room, runs to me, wraps her arms around me and she cries. I hold her, I beg her to tell me what’s wrong. She won’t. She just won’t say.
The next night and the next, Kit calls me with more horror stories of what these guys are saying to Jasmine. And Jasmine stops coming into first hour and running into me. She stops with the hugs. She stops with the tears. She just walks in and sits in the chair behind where Kit will be sitting. She lowers her head and she cries.
So one day Guardian walks up to her. He offers her a hand and she takes it. He offers her the other and she takes it. And he stands her up. Guardian takes off his scarf, black, cotton, and hangs it from her neck. She looks at him confused and he says, “I just want you to have this. Never take it off. This is all I can be for you. This is all you’ll let me be.”
The phone call is different that night when Kit calls me. “You would not believe what happened today, oh my God!” Kit said excitedly. “Those bullies in third hour. They came and they sat down. She said they just kinda stared at her for awhile, and she braced herself. And they all apologized. They started talking about how pretty she was, how funny she was. They started talking about how they didn’t mean anything they said and they had just been having really bad days. At lunch they found her and they introduced her to their friends. Jasmine has a whole bunch of friends now. She said everybody in the school is really sweet to her. She says it’s her lucky scarf. She said that everything changed the moment she put the scarf on. She’s afraid you’re gonna ask for it back.”
Jasmine was in school for about two more months before, I don’t know what happened. Hopefully family was found from across the nation and they agreed to take her in. Maybe she moved on to another foster home. I don’t know what happened to Jasmine. But I know that after Guardian put that scarf on her, everything changed.
We got the story of the driveway when Ronin came back in 2021. He said that he walked out there to talk to that group and he said he was wearing his trench coat, an immaculate white shirt, dress pants, black shoes, and carrying a staff. And around his neck hung the scarf. The leader walked out to talk to him. This is a practice that dates back thousands of years. Every time an army is about to fight another army, for some reason the leaders come out to speak to one another.
Ronin didn’t have much to say about what was said to him that day. But he said, “When you go back to your men, I want you to ask them which ones of them are prepared to die today.” Ronin looked the guy right in the eye when he said, “Because those are the ones that are gonna survive.”
For more about the series Reality of the Unreal Mind, visit Amazon.
Jesse Teller 
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