Free I Kill Monsters: The Revenants (Book 2) by Tony Monchinski

projects, Tams a fantasy character; DeAndre kind of small
and frail for his age, Tams a beast of a man; DeAndre some kid
nobody but his momma and his friends ever heard of, Tams the main
character in this kick ass book no doubt millions of people were
reading or would be reading—DeAndre identified with the
barbarian.
    Tams was alone. He had no one. Even among the
Yurek-Ungaar, his tribe, before they sold him into slavery, Tams
had been a man alone. Now here he was with a bunch of punks talking
trash behind his back, an army of monsters massing for the attack.
Sure there were others who were supposed to stand by him in
whatever battle was coming, but Tams was very much on his own on
that wall.
    Tams all alone at Kar Dap-Salam and keeping
it real. Thinking on his girl, T’lina, back in his village. T’lina
arranged to marry Darburry, the punk responsible for Tams
predicament to begin with. Tams thinking on his girl the way
DeAndre thought about Amy, this girl from school. DeAndre couldn’t
wait for class, sit there and look at Amy without anyone seeing him
looking at her, kind of the same way Tams stood on that wall
thinking on T’lina.
    Not that DeAndre knew what to say to Amy.
    Not that Amy even knew DeAndre existed.
    Tams was staring into the cold Northlands on
top of the wall when Juan in his living room shouted oh shit son and broke the spell. Juan, his brother’s
friend; Tamarak, DeAndre’s friend. And Tamarak didn’t even exist.
DeAndre had dubbed the barbarian Tams ; not something
Jablonsky called his character.
    “Oh shit son!” Juan called out again, amused
by something they were watching.
    Hungry, DeAndre put the book down on his bed,
opened his door, and stepped out into the living room.
    DeAndre’s momma at work, as usual, Terrence
and his friends had commandeered the living room. The stench of
weed heavy in the room, the windows open to air the place out.
Terry on one end of the couch, his boy Caprice on the other. Big
Ronald seated on the floor against the sofa, eating out of a
Chinese food container. Fred over by the stereo and its speakers,
standing in place. Juan lying on his back on the carpet, smoking a
bone. Probably getting ash all over the floor.
    Luke on his momma’s chair, had his legs up
hanging off the side like he shouldn’t. What was Luke doing here
anyway?
    “S’up little man?” Luke greeting him like
they were friends, like he wasn’t witness to Yuri’s assailing
DeAndre a couple days back.
    “What you doin’ in there, shorty?” Ronald
stuffing Lo Mein into his fat head. “Rubbin’ one out?” The Lo Mein
supposed to be DeAndre’s lunch. Who’d Ronald think he was comin’ in
peoples’ houses, eating they food? Sitting there now, eating last
night’s Chinese, laughing at his own attempt at a joke. Now DeAndre
was gonna have to settle for grilled cheese or some garbage,
whatever was left.
    “Yeah, what you doin’ in there, Dre?” Juan
was half-black, half something else, one of the islands but not the
one DeAndre’s mom was from.
    “Readin’.”
    “Reading. Damn. Be careful with that little
man.” Juan took a hit off the bone, held it. “White man’s books,”
exhaling, “poison your mind.” Juan giggling, amused by something
he’d said or thought.
    “Yo niggas, be quiet,” Caprice nodded to the
television, “this is the best part.”
    The young guy behind the counter on the
screen was asking Larry Fishburne if he could help him, Fishburne
saying, “Can you help me ? Yeah, you can start by
giving me fifteen pieces of chicken motherfucker.”
    DeAndre knew the movie well. The King of New York . One of his and
Terry’s favorites.
    “I got yo chicken fo’ ya, Jimmy.” Terry
dropped one of Wesley Snipes’ lines from later in the film.
    “This movie is whack, yo.” Ronald paused with
his fork to say. “Let’s watch Scarface .” DeAndre glanced
over at him. Fatso couldn’t even use no chop sticks.
    “You whack, Ron,” Caprise told him.