Part One:
It wasn't like he could just scale walls. It had taken a year to unearth that momentum: starting with a running start. He began it all by Krump Dancing in Watts with a group of guys. This urban style of dancing kept many blacks out of gangs; started them on something positive. In Watts, if you're not busy, you will be harassed, attacked, even killed. There's an underlying morality to Krumping. It's a positive outlet for the black community, but anyone who does it knows it's about self-gratification. That's why when CJ moved to Long Beach, he continued to practice, alone at 5 a.m. He wanted to be a superhero. He wanted to be Spiderman.There was an industrial building behind the Long Beach Convention Center. There he could spring between parallel staircases. That morning, he managed a backflip--after a 360 degree spin from one side to the other--and landed feet first on his red sweatshirt. The adrenaline made him attempt again. But as he ran, his spirit told him he wouldn't make it, so he stopped.
He wanted to ride the high of his accomplishment so he picked up the sweatshirt and made his way through the foggy air to the Convention's fountain. He couldn't stop smiling because he was happy. He concentrated on his visible breath and sweat dripping onto the sidewalk. The smile went away.
Spiderman took him a year. To save his palms, he wore fingerless leather gloves, but he still got hurt. He scraped himself a lot. He broke his ankle once and he was always harassed by police.
They saw him, a black man, springing back and forth from buildings in downtown Long Beach. Enough said, right? He knew the burden of his skin color. He'd give it up if it didn't mean something.
And he didn't know what else to do. He was 22 now and other than sex, Krumping gave him unmeasurable pleasure. Kept him in shape, attracted the ladies. He didn't even drink! He'd have a one to save face, but he didn't need alcohol anymore.
He was hung up on this. It gave him the power to climb walls... with a running start.
Tupac's "Untouchable" began playing on the ipod shuffle in his boxer shorts. He came up to the huge fountain, located at the top of concrete steps, just like the stairs from "Rocky." The water sprayed in arched rainbows and vertical gun shots. The cold mist was nice.
Taking a deep breath, he stood on the side of the fountain. Bobbed his head to the bass, bit his lip; he waited for the moves. A violent dance emerged, channelling the rage of his minimum wage existence: McDonalds for two years. He was Krumping, but it was all him. Black dancers are born with a spirit telling them how. White people don't have it. It's not their gift.
He moved up and down like a slinky, extending his arms for leverage. With each bounce, his stomach folded with crisp precision. Cold water drops splashed on his dark arms. The touch of the water was inviting, like the touch of a girl. As an extension of this mating call, he did a handstand, then sprung himself right into the water, landing on his feet.
Like the crash of a huge bong, the splash stopped his dance. Game over. He sloshed his way to the side. Before exiting, he checked to see how badly soaked his sneakers were. Aside from his ipod, shoes were prized possessions. He didn't want to wreck them entirely.
With his leg up, he looked towards the street. He could see a white brunette girl watching him from by the bus stop. She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt the dark green color of a Christmas Tree. It showed her figure. Nice curves. She was also wearing silver roller blades, a walkman on her waist, and those bulky, old-fashioned type of headphones on her head. CJ wore wireless earbuds from Touch, Inc.
His first thought was what the hell was she doing out here so early. Exercising? His second was why did she look like a dork. Especially with that walkman! It was like something from the eighties. She didn't belong here and was fresh off the bus.
He'd seen Asian tourists making their way through downtown Long Beach. This girl looked like one of them: out of place, looking for something that wasn't there. Long Beach didn't have a lot of beauty. Tourists were dumb.
They made eye contact and she started climbing the stairs. She moved fast for wearing roller blades. He was impressed, but embarrassed. He turned away, pretending to tie his shoe. She reached the top and skated over.
"Hi!" she said, sounding just like a stupid white girl. Bubbly, instantly nice.
He gave her a quick look, then turned back.
"I got these skates," she said, pointing. "I got 'em at the mall from my boss and well... they make me it so I can dance like you just did... I think."
CJ looked at the girl's face, confused. What the hell was she talking about? Shit, now he was mad. He'd taken the bus enough to see crazy people mumbling to themselves. This girl was just an extension of that. A little cleaner, but just as nuts. He had to be at work soon.
"A'ight," CJ said casually. He stepped out of the fountain, stomping his feet to shake out excess water. "I ain't got time to talk to you. K?" Throwing his sweatshirt over his shoulder, he began walking.
"Can I prove it to you?" she yelled. CJ turned around. He quickly did a scan to make sure no one was watching.
"A'ight," he said, an evil smile. He was always up for someone making a fool of themselves. No one could touch ghetto moves.
The girl pressed the clunky play button on her walkman. Then like a hot wheel being backed up by a kid, she effortlessly moved backward on her skates. It was weird. There was no help from her legs or nothin'. She skated forward like a sling shot, right along the fountain, weaving in figure eights. She jumped the edge too, holding her arms out to touch the water. The sun glistened off her skates, which were the same color as the guy from Terminator 2. They looked expensive. With her white skin and colorful clothes, CJ thought of the Trix cereal bunny.
She was moving, but not with passion. He didn't know if white people could hear spirits. He didn't think so. That dance was about listening inside.
When she finished, she asked him: "Am I dancing?"
He wanted to ask how she moved, but he didn't. He just nodded, as if to tell her good job. There wasn't time. He sighed, because his wet shoes would weigh him down. No more Spiderman today. It was then he realized how difficult moving in those skates really was. They were made of heavy material and she moved without gravity.
Not letting on, he said: "You're just using your legs. You need to feel it from inside. Use your hands and your stomach." As he said this, he watched her face. The girl had approached him out of awe, just like he approached his mentor, Blue Eyez, when he started Krumping. It took five attempts before he could ask for advice. This girl did it right away. Did she want guidance?
He sat down on the fountain and took off one of his gloves. He started to give her The Speech, which made him happy since he had never been able to say it before.
"You got the music in your ears right?" he said, pointing to her headphones. She nodded. "But you also got the music in here." He patted his chest, his heart. "You need to listen to the beat. It tells you what to do. It's gonna take time, because the hardest moves are the ones that help you touch the sky. When you do those, you're gonna get hurt, but it's better than gettin' sh--" CJ stopped. The speech ended with "gettin' shot;" Krumping was an alternative to gang life, but this ending didn't apply to her. She wasn't marked.
The girl blinked. Wide eyes. "Do you mean getting caught?" she asked.
He regretted talking to her. She may very well be crazy. Didn't crazy people on the bus think somebody was after them? It ain't like she committed a crime or anything. Did she? Maybe she stole them skates.
"Um, yeah," he said, then handed her his glove. His spirit told him to do it as a ritual gesture. Karma. He did it quickly before regret set in. "Protect your hand," he said, then got up to leave.
Helping her was a good deed, he knew, but there was something off about her moves. And it wasn't 'cause she was white. She had passion, though. No one asks if they're dancing unless they want to be moved. CJ gave her credit for that. She could improve if she relaxed a little.
To be continued...
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