'Peanut Butter'

We call him Peanut Butter.

From Little Indio to Fat Ritchie, from Nene to Mayo, almost everyone in East L.A.'s Ramona Gardens housing project has a nickname. After a while, we forget each other's birth names. As for me, they call me Smiley.

I like how Peanut Butter got his nickname the most. From her kitchen, Peanut Butter's mother sells Popsicles for a nickel and peanut butter sandwiches on Weber's bread for a dime. For an extra nickel, she adds jelly.

I guess he's lucky, because we could've named him Popsicle, Weber or even Grape Jelly.

Peanut Butter is a skinny little kid with no older brothers, so he is always picked on in our tough neighborhood. He is an easy target for bullies like Tomás. "Hey, Peanut Butter," Tomás shouts. "I want you to jump down the five stairs with your skateboard."

"OK," he responds. Famous for wearing an old Spider-Man T-shirt, Peanut Butter appears unfazed. His five-stair jump represents a spectacle for the local kids, just like watching the skateboarder Tony Hawk perform his stunts on YouTube.

I close my eyes as Peanut Butter nears the small ramp before jumping. Before I can open them, the crowd yells in unison, "Go, Peanut Butter, go!"

He makes it! The kids go crazy yelling his name and pounding him on the back. Tomás is angry, because Peanut Butter gets all the glory.

To get back at him, Tomás says, "OK, go climb that pine tree!"

I plead with him, "Don't do it. It's easier to climb Mount Everest."

"Are you chicken or what?" Tomás taunts Peanut Butter.

"It's OK, Smiley," Peanut Butter responds. He looks up to the sky-high branches. Reaching for the first branch in sight, he hoists himself up into the tree.

He climbs higher and higher. "Come down," I beg him.

"Hey, punk," Tomás barks at me. "Keep your mouth shut or I'll make you climb the tree."

Then Tomás starts yelling orders like a Marine sergeant. "Higher, Peanut Butter! Higher!"

Halfway to the top, Peanut Butter pauses. He looks down at the crowd. I watch as panic slowly overtakes him.

My legs begin to tremble and a lump of fear forms in my throat. While Peanut Butter continues to climb, anger overtakes my fear. This isn't right. I need to do something before it's too late.

Out of the blue, I think of Peanut Butter not just as a friend but as a little brother. I grit my teeth and clench my fists, like the Incredible Hulk.

Suddenly, in a load voice I scream, "Stop, Peanut Butter!"

"Didn't I tell you to stay out of this?" Tomás yells at me.

"Why don't you climb the tree?" I say.

Furious, Tomás rushes toward me like a raging bull. Seeing that I don't back down, Tomás stops and backs away.

"Hey, Tomás," Joaquin, a kid from the crowd, yells out. "Smiley's right. If you're so tough, why don't you climb the tree?"

One by one, the kids from the crowd show support for Peanut Butter.

"Yeah," Fat Ritchie chimes in.

"You're not alone," Antonia says.

"We have your back, Peanut Butter," Rosa joins the others.

As the crowd turns against him, Tomás angrily leaves the scene while shaking his fists in the air. "I'll be back," he mutters to himself.

Feeling safe to come down, Peanut Butter slowly makes his way to the ground and gives me a high five.

"Let's go have a peanut butter sandwich at my mom's store. Don't worry, this one is on me." Then he says with a wicked grin, "Oh, and by the way, just so you know -- I've been climbing that old pine tree, right up to the top, for years."

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