The apology

Brooklyn, NY

2 p.m.

It is a beautiful sunny day in The Big Apple. Thousands of people from all over the world are walking up and down the streets, eating, chatting, shopping.

In a ball court in the middle of the city, some teenagers are playing their favorite sport: calcio, which means football in English, or soccer in American English.

Teenagers are wearing jerseys of Juventus, Milan, Palmeiras, Real Madrid, Barcelona. They all have grown up rooting for these teams. Every time they make a move, they shout the name of players such as Ronaldo, Messi, Buffon, Zidane, Pogba, Kaka, Pirlo, Maldini, Edmundo, Marcos, Evair, Djalminha, among others.

There are about 10 teenage boys playing and 10 teenage girls who are not only watching but also waiting for their turn in the game. Different from other countries, America incentives their girls to play soccer and the result is the 4^th Female World Cup title won in France last July.

Everybody is having a good time. The boys are playing, the girls are looking at the boys they will invite to go out. Everything seems to be in place when all a sudden…

- AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

- What happened?

- MY ANKLE. AAAHHHHH IT HURTS. IT REALLY HURTS.

- Oh… My… God!!!

- WHAT? WHAT?

- It is… it is… broken.

- Shiiiit. Santa merda.

- Your ankle is broken, man.

Luca can stop screaming. He tries to look down at his ankle, but he can’t. He keeps rolling on the floor in pain. All he wants is the pain to go away, but everybody knows that’s not gonna happen. His ankle is broken. While he rolls the players of both teams start an argument.

- ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND????

- What?

- You broke Luca’s knee!!!!

- So what?

- SO WHAT????

- Yeah, so what? This is a game for maschio, not signorina.

- Oh, you speak Italian now? Are you mocking me?

- Listen, I ain’t mocking nobody, alright?

- You broke his ankle, figlio di puttana.

- Watdyousay?

- You heard me.  

- Yeah, I did. Say that again. I dare you!

- FIGLIO DI PUTTANA.

Sam punches Rafaello in the face, and while he is on the floor, he keeps kicking his stomach. Rafaello’s friends attempt to approach Sam and kick his ass but he pulls up a gun.

- Naaaahhhh… you guys don’t wanna do that.

Rafaello stands up. He holds his left arm. It hurts.

- What the hell, man? A gun? Are you serious?

- Yeah. You damn right I am serious.

- Put this gun away.

- And if I don’t?

Luca keeps rolling on the floor, and this time the pain is worse. Rafaello returns his attention to Sam and says:

- We gotta take him to the hospital.

- Yeah. You do that cause I ain’t doing shit.

- COME ON, MAN. YOU’RE THE ONE WITH THE CAR HERE.

- Yes, I am, and my car is taking no little fag to the hospital. Maricon.

- MARICON IS SPANISH YOU ASSHOLE.

- Well, I couldn’t care less. Spanish, Italian… F*** you all. This is America, so speak American.

Rafaello wants to kill Sam. Actually, they have never been good friends. They just happen to live in the same neighborhood. When he approaches Luca, he realizes the silence. Luca is not screaming anymore. Not even breathing.

- Oh Dio Mio. He’s not breathing.

- You sure about that? – asks one of the girls.

- YEAH, I AM SURE. I think… I think… I think… he’s dead.

- Well, lemme see… No, he’s not dead. He just passed out. The body does that so we do not feel so much pain.

- Are you a doctor?

- No, but I know a few things.

- Ok, we gotta take him out of here.

Rafaello starts talking to Sam again.

- Sam, please. Help me. Let’s take him to the hospital.

- No way. I told you already, this faggot is not getting in my car.

- WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?

- You guys. You are my problem.

- We gotta help him, man.

- I ain’t helping nobody.

- You F***ing niggaaaaaa.

Silence in the ball court. Rafaello never uses this word. He knows how offensive it is. However, he is too nervous and desperate to think before speaking. All he can think is about his friend who passed out.

- Wadiyoucallme?

- What?

- WADIYOUCALLME?

- He said: you f***ing nigga.

That is Luca. He is awake now. Rafaello embraces him and checks if he is ok. He is not. He got a fever and needs a hospital. His ankle is getting more swollen as they speak.

- Oh, the maricon is awake. Good!!!

- Maricon is Spanish, you asshole.

- I know. Your stupid friend told me.

- Look what you did to my ankle.

- So? It’s part of the game. Some people get injured. If you can’t handle it, don’t get down to the playground.

- What? What’s that supposed to mean?

- I don’t know. I heard that from a Brazilian guy.

- Well, it don’t matter who said that crap. I want you to apologize.

Sam looks at Luca’s eyes and asks.

- You want me to do what?

- Apologize for what you did.

- I will apologize shit. Who the hell you think you are, huh?

- You sure about it?

- Yeah. I am damn sure about it.

- You’re gonna pay for it.

- Oh, yeah. Wadiyagonnado?

- I am going ti farti soffire. Te lo giuro.

- Oh, don’t give me all this Cosa Nostra mafia bullshit. Again, this is America. Speak American.  

- Yeah, this is America and I hate this place. It looks like a zoo. Too many scimmie.

- Scimmie? What the hell is that?

- You don’t know? Hmmm… so lemme enlighten you. Scimmie means……… You… monkeys… negros… niggers.

Yes. Luca is racist. And yes, he hates black people.

- WATDIYOUSAY TO ME?

- You heard me well.

Rafaello tries to calm things down.

- Nooooo… no no no no no no… My friend Luca is kidding. He doesn’t mean that. In Italy we say that black people… 

- SHUT UP!!! SHUT THE F*** UP!!!

- Ok.

- Say that again, you son of b*****? Please, say that again.

- Simmie… monkeys… Negros… Niggers.

Sam takes a deep breath. He looks around. Everyone is looking at him. The boys and the girls. It is possible to hear the breathing of some people. The rhythm is frenetic. They are apprehensive and do not know what’s gonna happen next, but they have an idea.

Sam approaches Luca and takes Rafaello off the way. He points the gun at Luca’s chest. Rafaello tries to stop Sam but it is too late. Sam fires… and fires again… and again.

- NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Luca can’t breathe anymore. There’s too much blood. He is a fighter, so he tries. He fights for his life, but the attempt lasts less than 30 seconds.

Rafaello kneels, trying to save his friend, but he just can’t. Luca is dead.

- WHAT DID YOU DO???

Sam does not know the answer for this question. It is the first time that he uses a gun, his brother’s gun. He will have a lot to explain when he gets home. Now, his instincts speak louder, and he starts running. His friends follow him. They do not want to be there when the cops show up.

Rafaello has blood all over his t-shirt and it is not his. It is his best friend’s. He cries. He remembers inviting Luca for the game. At first Luca refused, but Rafaello managed to convince him. He said they should blend in with the other guys. What a stupid idea.

Now they are alone at the ball court. Everyone has fled. No boys. No girls. Just them. He has a lot in his mind. One of his thoughts is: How am I gonna tell Mr. Bianchi that his only son is dead?

To be continued…