Free Show and Prove by Sofia Quintero

it!” I shove him back into place and check my dogs for smudges. This kid don’t know how lucky he is he missed me. I stick my finger in his face and say, “Keep it up, and see if you go on the bus trip to Rockland on Friday.”
    Shorty Rock sucks his teeth but finally stays in line. I elbow Smiles. “Check, buddy. You saw that?” He’s not the only one who has a way with kids.
    “Yeah, let’s see how long that works for you.”
    We get to the train station, and after Big Lou clears the way with the token clerk, I hold open the exit door so the kids can file onto the platform. Of course, Shorty Rock has to be a clown and leap over the turnstile like he’s Mitch Gaylord. Now a whole bunch of other kids want to do it, too. Someone is bound to crack their head open, and then we gonna have some crazy mother in here tomorrow threatening to sue the city, the church, and maybe even me.
    Smiles jumps onto the first turnstile to block the rest of the boys from playing monkey see, monkey do. “Y’all know better. Turn ya butts right around and go through the door.”
    Always quick to copycat, Cookie leaps over the second turnstile and blocks it, too. “Y’all heard Smiley.”
    Shorty Rock yells, “That’s what y’all get for being biters.” He sidles up to Cookie like he’s her boyfriend.
    But she grabs his arm and whips him back through the turnstile like Wonder Woman cracking her golden lasso. “You too. Go back out and come in through the gate, the way you were supposed to in the first place.”
    Shorty Rock mumbles under his breath but does as he’s told. When he comes through the gate, I yell, “Yo, why you did that? Do that again. When you fall and crack your skull, see if I don’t laugh.”
    “You better not laugh if you don’t want me to fly that head,” says Shorty.
    I lift my arm like I’m about to backhand him, and Shorty throws his hands up over his head. “You better learn some respect.”
    “Why?” Shorty scowls at me over his raised forearm. “You ain’t my father!”
    “Thank God for that.” Man, if everybody weren’t looking…“If you was my kid, B, you’d be lying across that third rail, and I’d be going to jail!”
    Shorty blows a raspberry at me, then runs off down the platform. Only reason I don’t chase him and give him an oops upside his head is because Sara walks through the door, holding the hands of the twins.
    “Thank you,” Sara says.
    “Anytime, beautiful,” I say. Sara was the only one who thanked me for holding open the gate. All these other pooh-butts walked right by me like my name is Benson.
    Now Big Lou barges through the gate. “Focus less on the girls and pay more attention to your kid, Nike.” With the 6 train pulling into the station, I’m hoping Sara didn’t hear him put me in check. In that booming voice of his, Big Lou announces, “Counselors, we’re getting off at 110th Street. Four stops.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” says Smiles. Homeboy’s a walking transit map. Mr. King is a motorman for the MTA, so Smiles practically grew up on the subway. He be knowing off the top of his head which trains go to parts of the city he’s never even been to.
    “Yo, Smiles,” I whisper as I nod toward Sara.
    “That’s Sara,” Cookie barks in my ear, “and she’s too good for a dog like you.”
    “Damn, blow out my eardrum, why don’t you?” Who asked her, anyway? “I know Sara. She lives down the street from me.”
    “We’ve been like this since she moved here a few weeks ago,” Cookie says, crossing her fingers, “and she’s never mentioned the likes of you.”
    “Mind your business, Cookie,” says Smiles. I’d give him five for being my backup like he used to, but it ain’t about me really. His beef with Cookie’s over that dumb promotion I done told him not to get hyped over.
    We pile into a car that only has a handful of other passengers on it. The rush of kids annoys a few, but most smile at us. One of the twins climbs onto Sara’s