Just Don't Be Weird

Dante didn’t sleep much last night, for good reason. He was too busy texting Imani. They stayed up until 3 in the morning talking and sending memes. His fear of fumbling her slowly faded as they reached the first inklings of friendship. He still wanted more, but he didn’t know how to. His only option was to ask his parents since asking his friends was a bad idea, it was a one-way ticket to get flamed. Dante lived in a townhouse with his mom and dad. Dad usually had the third shift and often only slept in the afternoons, so he caught him when he was finishing up his breakfast.

Dad was a big man, standing at a whopping 6’6”. He was a former basketball star, which he often references when he talks to his family. Now he worked as a security officer. He always kept his hair short and neat, allowing his hair to form waves, he kept his full beard clipped and tidy, and while having a natural frown, he was pleasant enough to talk to. He saw Dante walk into the kitchen as he drank his water. “Funny to see you up this early.”

Dante raised his eyebrow. “It’s only 11.”

“And it’s the summer.” He chuckled.

“I value my sleep, Dad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dad,” Dante said, changing the subject. “I need your advice on something.”

“What you need, son?”

“Well, there’s this girl…”

“You got her pregnant?” Dad asked suddenly.

Dante whipped his head back. “What?! No!”

“Good. Just making sure.”

“Uh, ok, anyways, I just met her yesterday, while we were at open mic night. And I saw this girl, and her name is Imani. And I wanna get with her, but it’s weird to just ask somebody, ya know?”

Dad scratched his chin, humming as he racked the information in his brain. “Well, I say don’t think about it too much. You just wanna take your time. Just don’t be weird. When I was your age, I took my time. I got to know your mom. I was her friend first before I was a boyfriend.”

Dante nodded, soaking in the advice. “I think I got it, thanks, Dad!”

“Anytime. And DON’T get her pregnant!”

“Dad!” He said with disgust as he walked away.

“I’m 34 for a reason, son!”

Dante walked back upstairs and opened his phone. He went to text Imani.

D: u up?

Three minutes go by, then Dante’s phone buzzed.

I: Yea

Wasting no time, he got to work on texting her.

D: what u got goin on today?

I: Umm nun. Why?

D: we could hang at the clock tower

I: Ain’t that closed?

D: me n my crew found a way in, we made a whole hang out there

I: That sounds cool. Will ur friends be there?

D: prob, that an issue?

I: Nah, I wanted to meet them anyway

D: would 4 be ok?

I: yea

D: dope

Dante got up and looked for what to wear that day. He chose some basketball shorts, an old team shirt from his time on the JV basketball team, and some nice enough kicks. He walked to his mom, who just got off her shift at the beauty salon. She was around the same age as her husband, but a lot lighter. Her hair was straight in a ponytail, with a few strands poking out due to the work day. She was in the living room watching TV. “I’m gonna go to hang out with my friends, Mom.”

She hummed. “Yo Daddy says you’re liking a girl.”

He groaned. “I-I mean we’re just friends.”

“What’s her name?”

“Imani.”

“Hmm. Well, just don’t get her–”

“Bye, mom!” He laughed.

“And don’t be home too late, boy! I need to retwist your hair tomorrow!”

Dante took the bus over to the Allen-Bradley Clock Tower, a landmark for the city since the 60s. Recently, the place has undergone maintenance and is slow to open. Just under the inside of the clock face, sits an empty space for the Yungblood HQ. Dante walked over there, seeing Imani waiting there. “Wassup!”

Imani smiled and put her phone in her pocket. “Hey. The door is locked, how can we get in?”

“A little ghetto ingenuity.” Dante walked along until he saw the trash can. He hopped up it, crawling up to the short part of the roof. He offered a hand to his friend.

“This is crazy,” She said with a laugh. She grabbed the hand, got pulled up, and followed Dante to a door to the clock tower.

Dante pointed at the red door. “Shits have been unlocked for months. Nobody cares.”

The stairs leading up were old and wooden, with each step the stairs creaked and whined, putting some worry in Imani. Eventually, they reached the top, walking in to see the Yungblood HQ.

The stone walls were littered with art and music supplies, with the crew sitting there and hearing Yin make some beats, casually freestyling as they heard him mix some samples.

Flu looked up. “Wassup, money. And…”

Miro pointed to her. “This is Imani. The girl from mic night.”

The group recognized her. Hendrixx went up to shake her hand. “Yo. Make yourself at home. We just chilling at the moment.”

Yin nodded. “But Miro, I need you to record your verse for track 8.”

Miro looked to Imani. “Yeah. You mind?”

Imani shrugged. “I liked your rapping anyways.”

With a smirk on his face, he grabbed his headphones and listened to the beat that Yin cooked up. “Shit is hot Y2.”

Once the beat looped for a bit, he looked at Imani for a bit, then he spat.

Yo, 
I got the flow to impress
You too slow to address
Too much dough to access
You in distress when you see my check.

I cut ya like a shitty barber
Point gaurd on the track, in control like Tony Parker
Real rats, we Yungblood always sniffing for cheese
Don’t be messing with us, we’ll have ya on ya knees
Begging “Please! Spare Me!”
We a disease
Too sick to appease, you know what that means?

Yung Miro should be locked up! He’s insane!
He always killing beats, setting verses aflame!
Put this manic behind bars!
With the dudes with big scars
Don’t let him spar with the greatest
He’ll leave them bloodied and jaded
Too hated but I’m so faded
You too late we invaded
Your home is ours for the taking.

Yo.
They don’t want me to blow up. I’m a young poet.
Every verse that rhyme, it’s off the dome and I show it.
I don’t need no paper, my minds a canvas.
This shit is my life. I don’t need you to understand this.

Yung Miro.

The crew stepped up as Miro put his headphones off, letting him get praised again. Imani stood back, but she looked at him impressed.

That’s all he wanted to see.