Larry's response was to shove me. My response was to slug him. To the amazement of everybody --- especially me --- my roundhouse swing sent big Larry Deal sprawling onto the pavement of the fenced-in schoolyard, flat on his back!

Now listen: if this was movie, instead of real life, that would be the happy ending. Larry the Bully would have new respect for Raheem the shrimp, Raheem and Alida would hook up and live happily ever after. WRONG!

In my real life, Larry Deal beat the livin' shit out of me! He gave me a busted lip and a black eye, then he started tryin' to leave impressions of my mug in the concrete. With his knee in my back, my arm twisted up over my shoulder blade, Larry hissed into my ear: "Okay, fool, say it! Say the words, niggah!"

I cried out in agony as he raised my arm higher, felt like he was about to break it, humiliated, snot runnin' out of my nose and tears running down my scraped face.

"Say the words!" Larry Deal insisted.

"Uncle! Uncle!" I croaked.

The other kids turned away from my shame. Larry took his knee out of my back and walked away laughing. I was so ashamed, I couldn't look Alida Johnson in the eye for three weeks.

No, fool! That ain't where my childhood ended... I just think of it in connection with the time I think I first felt like a man, because it is all around saying the words...

Say the Words, Raheem.

As you might imagine, I was kindah wild when I was young. I was. I was outtah school, I had a damned job, a killer ride, some decent vines, and I was buff. A horn-dog from the word "GO!" As far as I was concerned, mackin' was the thing to do. Not a Friday night went by when I wasn't in the clubs trying to shoplift that pooty.

I ran up on this Superfine sistah, name of Clarisse, with a profile that fit that classy name, and I was all over it. I gave it to her straight, though. I said: "This is just about us havin' some fun. You understand what I'm sayin'? No headgames or none of that shit.

"I think we can do some real nice things for each other. No strings attached. And that's it. We can just be F**k Buddies."

She gave me one of them wicked smiles that said she knew where I was coming from.

I thought everything was okay until about four weeks later when --- out of the blue --- right after we had bumped some serious uglies in her folks basement --- she whimpers, "Oh, Raheem, I love you!"

I got mad. "Don't say that! I thought we had a deal!"

Her only response was to kind of whimper.

Until four weeks later. I come out of my work, and she parked outside waiting for me. What was I supposed to do? I walked over to her car and said, "Clarisse, hey! Wassup?"

"I need to talk to you, Raheem," she said. "Get in the car. We need to go to the beach."

This was wrong. Every fiber in my body said to me, this was wrong. The beach? That could only mean we was going to Baker's Beach, in The City, or out toward the coast. At least 30 minutes, across the Bay Bridge from Oakland, if we went to The City. Maybe longer if we took the Richmond Bridge to Marin County... This was wrong.

I walked around and got into the passenger seat of Clarisse's car.

"Wassup, Baby?" I asked her. "Why can't we talk right here? You wannah get something to eat?"

Clarisse started the car up and pulled out into the traffic. "I don't want to talk about it here," she said. "Let's go to the beach."

When we had been driving for a while, long enough for me to see she was heading for Marin, she started talking about her parents. She told me how she had always been their favorite, and especially after her younger sister got knocked-up by some dude, and had that baby "out of wedlock." She told me how all her parents hopes was set on her, Clarisse, being the Good Girl she had always been, their star.

I was getting real nervous, but I didn't say anything.

Clarisse drove us out to Bodega Bay, a long drive where she had plenty of time to watch me squirm as she told me her family history. When we got to the beach, out of the car and down onto the sand, waves rolling in, Clarisse started crying. "I think I'm gonnah have to kill myself, Raheem," she told me. "I can't hurt my parents like this."

I lost it again: "Dammit girl! What's all this Big Mystery about? What's all this Drama? What are you talking about?"

"I missed my period," Clarisse told me. "I think I'm pregnant. I know you just in it for the fun. You don't care about me. You don't love me like I love you!

"I can't put my parents through all this. I think I'm gonnah kill myself."

There it was. I had to turn the corner, shit or get off the pot. I wasn't sure what to do.

Say the Words, Raheem.

I was holding her in my arms, letting her cry onto my coat like I thought I should. I was trying to comfort her with the contact. But I knew that wasn't enough.

Say the Words, Raheem.

I knew she was waiting for what was next, what I would say.

"A baby? A baby of our own? Girl, you know I'm more of a man than that! Hush up your crying. We can deal with this..."

Say the Words, Raheem. "

I love you, Clarisse.."

"No!" she cut me off. "Don't lie."

"Naw, Baby, I do. I love you! You just gave me the most beautiful gift any woman can give a man. I love you. We gonnah get married."

Well, it turns out this was a false alarm. Clarisse's period kicked in about a week later. But now I knew that she knew she could play me. Childhood was over. I was now a man.