It was true, Fire thought, as he laughed with Ian. He had lost his virginity at fourteen, while Ian had slept with thirteen girls at the age of twelve—and by sixteen, thirty-four. In high school Ian developed a brooding disposition that girls used to think was cool, but which was in fact a form of shyness: he didn’t like the way he spoke. In high school, Fire wasn’t cool. No one wanted to sleep with him. They thought he was funny, and nice to talk to, and wicked with words—which they didn’t find sexy till their college years, when these same traits were recognized as the base ingredients of charm.

“I was such a loser,” Fire said jokingly, as they reached the jackfruit tree that marked the entrance to the main road. The muddy tires slipped before they gripped the blacktop. “When I look back now, there were so many girls I coulda clap.”

As Fire went down the list of failures, Ian laughed along while mocking him inside. You was always one big pussy, he thought. Always Mr. Nice … telling gyal you sorry and all that kinda fart. Before I bow to a gyal again ah mash up her bloodclaat first.

From the country lane to Battery they turned off on the narrow path that led to Snapper Bay. From the top of the hill, the beach was a wedge of white between lush green points that stretched into the sea, spreading then hooking like crab claws. Away from the shore, at the foot of a hill, was a cluster of huts within a rusty fence whose flapping sheets resembled strips of mudcloth.

“Yow sah!” Fire shouted as he parked at the edge of the sand.

As Teego looked up from his soccer game, a gaggle of laughing children scrambled over the beached canoes.

“Is Ian dat?” Teego asked, champing on his spliff. He was thin but muscled and his locks had been bleached by the sun and the sea. “Rope een man. Long time nuh see. Come lick a chalice wid me.”

They took off their shoes, boomed fists with the bredren, and took their place in the circle, talking and laughing as they juggled the ball like seals, diving and twisting and jumping to keep it from touching the ground. As he caught the ball in the nape of his neck, Teego asked Ian about the fight: “So you really do dat or is lie?”

“All now ah doan read it,” Ian replied. “Wha dem say? Dat ah fuck up a pussyhole who disrespek me? If is dat dem say then is true.”

“Is wha dem do you?” another man asked.

“De bwai start diss up Fire bout a washing machine dat him done pay for long time,” Ian said. “And you know how Fire stay—is a man wi make people step pon him—so me haffe jump in and defen it.” To Fire he said: “Me and you is like blood, y’understand, so me couldn’t stan up and watch a man pussy you up.” To the others he said: “So me a-try work out this thing fe Fire now and the man come call me ‘coolie,’ star, and me just haffe gi it two small kick and mash it down.”