The Homeboy and The Virgin

01-Junior

1—Junior

 

Everybody wanted to be associated with the Homeboys.

    It was good to just be seen getting a smile or wave from them. It boosted your popularity and was even said to help you get into certain colleges. They were sexy. Popular. Cool. Amazing. To be in their presence, I was told, was the equivalent of seeing your favorite sight in the world. It was eating your favorite food as much as you wanted. It was dessert without the calories. It was to fall instantly and irrevocably in love.

   The Homeboys didn’t just talk to anybody. For players, they were extremely picky. They were charming only to a certain few girls. They only broke a few hearts with those dazzling smiles. Which was why if you were a sleeping with them, a hook-up, or even getting your heart broken by them, you bragged about it. Here at Avian High, you just wanted your name to be in the same paragraph as them. And, hopefully, it would spread through the school like wildflowers, and you would be popular.

   I was not the kind of girl they associated with. I wasn’t loud, nor really talented in anything but my brains. I was still a virgin and had kissed only a few boys. I wasn’t quiet nor shy, but I spoke my mind, and they wanted ‘yes sir’ girls. I didn’t have a chance in Heaven of getting with them, and it didn’t really bother me. My brother used to be a Homebody before he graduated. And the constant parade of girls, friends, and women that came through the house my freshmen year was ridiculous. And my brother had only passed down what he knew to the current Homeboys—Duke, Kyle, Dante, and Chris. They varied from year to year, even though the name remained the same—whether they were “hood” boys or “rich” boys, they still remained Homeboys. And this year we had a good mix.

   Dante and Chris both hailed from the same, dangerous hood. They had been rumored to be in gangs, but that had never been proven. Dante was a black boy, chocolate skinned and medium height, about 5’9, with pretty brown eyes and long eyelashes. He had a few tattoos, none of them in plain sight except for the one on his bicep, which was a cross that said, “RIP Danielle”, which was his little sister who had been killed in a car accident. Chris, on the other hand, was a white boy with no known parents. He had been adopted, and he ran the streets like Dante. They were the closest of the Homeboys. So close, in fact, many of us were sure they didn’t actually know they were blood related. Chris was the same height with green eyes and brown hair. His body was clear of all tattoos, but he had a nasty drinking habit he hadn’t kicked yet. Parties were all the rage for him—get drunk, fuck around, tear shit up, bring home some girl he didn’t know and kick her out the next morning. They both were what and what with personality—nice enough, just as charming, but serious.

   Then you had Duke and Kyle. Kyle was a boy of Spanish descent. Black hair, brown eyes, a Spanish (from Spain) accent that sometimes snuck itself into his voice from living with his parents. He was the shortest, 5’7, and had a nice, lithe build of muscles. He was sweet, too, but funny, the kind of guy girls fell for without even knowing it. Of all the Homeboys, he was the only one that spoke to me. And it was nothing more than answers for homework, but he always managed to ask about my life beforehand. And, finally, there was Duke. The tallest Homebody at 6’3, he was a mixed boy. His mother was white, his father black. His father had been a member of the Baltimore Ravens in his heyday, and was a future hall of famer. He was retired now, coaching a college team as a defensive coordinator. Duke was a rich boy, but he wasn’t snobby. He was a goofball, always cracking jokes and messing around. His flirting couldn’t be taken seriously. He laughed a lot, smiled even more. He was happy-go-lucky, but still possessed that sexy charm. His olive skin had some tattoos across his chest and upper arms. He had brown hair that he usually kept in a messy, sexy fashion, and his green eyes and full lips made you want to throw him against a locker and make out with him. He wasn’t the sexiest, by far, but he just… was. Duke had a personality that made you wonder why you liked it, but you knew that you did.