by Angie Thomas
I hear him, and I almost get it, but I shake my head. “That song isn’t me. This ain’t cool.”
He slaps the back of one hand into the palm of the other. “Neither is being broke! Or food drives! What? You scared you won’t look ‘real’ rapping this shit? I can get you some goons to roll with, baby girl. Make this shit look as real as possible. I did it for your daddy.”
“What?”
“Law wasn’t no damn gangster when I met him,” Supreme says. “He was barely out of the church choir. Working some ol’ raggedy-ass jobs to support your momma and your brother. I’m the one who told him he had to start rapping that street shit. I’m the one who told him to roll with them GDs to look authentic. But his ass took the shit seriously.
“You though”—he holds my cheeks between his hands—“you can be smarter than that. You just gotta remember to play the role, not become it. We can do everything Law and I didn’t get a chance to do.”
Granddaddy calls the eyes the windows to the soul, and I suddenly get that. Now that Supreme doesn’t have his shades on, I can finally see what I am to him: a do-over of my dad.
I move away from him.
“I’m trying to help you, Li’l Law,” he claims. “I’m your Moses, leading you to the promised land! Get out of your goddamn feelings and let’s get this money.”
Let’s. We. Us. I’m the one going into that booth. I’m the one who people will see and talk about. Not him.
Yet I follow him back into the studio like the desperate idiot that I am.
Soundboard guy plays the beat, and Dee-Nice goes over the song with me so I can get the flow right. James watches and listens eagerly over on the sofa, elbowing Supreme at every other line I recite.
I go into the recording booth and slip the headphones over my ears.
Everyone watches me from the other side of the glass. There’s excitement in their eyes. Supreme wears an eager grin. They’re ready for me to perform.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window.
When I was around eight, Grandma and Granddaddy took me and Trey to the zoo. There was this one family who ended up at every exhibit at the same time we did. The two kids would try to get the animals to do whatever they wanted. They’d tell them to make sounds or come closer to the glass, anything in hopes of getting a laugh. The animals wouldn’t obey, of course, but I remember feeling so bad for them. It must’ve been awful to have people gawk at you and demand you entertain them how they see fit.
I’m suddenly in an exhibit, and there’s a room full of people waiting for me to entertain them. I have to say what they want me to say. Be what they want me to be.
The worst part? I do it.
Thirty-One
“You okay, Bookie?”
I look away from the window and over at my mom. “Why you ask?”
It’s Tuesday, and she just picked me up from ACT prep to go see Aunt Pooh.
“Because that’s my third time asking if you’re okay, and this is only the first time you’ve heard me. You’ve been so quiet.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. Something on your mind?”
More than I’d like. I recorded that song for Supreme and them. They loved it. I hated it. James still wasn’t fully “sold” though. Said he wants to see me perform it and see how people react to it.
I really am just something to entertain them.
Supreme’s all in though. Said he’s gonna set it up so I can premiere the song in a live performance at the Ring. He’s booking it for next Thursday. James claims that if I knock it out of the park, a big contract is as good as mine.
It doesn’t feel like it’ll be mine though. Not when I’m saying somebody else’s words and fitting somebody else’s image just to get it.
I don’t know how to tell Jay about it. It could go two ways—she’ll either A, be pissed that I’ve kept all this from her, or B, be ready to handle Supreme. Of course, because I’m still a minor, I can’t sign anything without her permission. But I got myself into this, and I gotta figure it out.
I sit up some more. “It’s nothing. Just school stuff.”
“Well, whatever it is, you can tell me. You know I always got you.”
“I know,” I say. “I got you too.”
We pull into the parking lot of this tall brick building that seems like it’s been around since before my grandparents were born. It would look like a regular building, honestly, but there’s a barbed-wire fence around the back.
We leave our phones, watches, and anything else that could set off the metal detector in the car. Jay only takes her keys and ID. This is the routine we’ve always followed whenever we’ve visited Aunt Pooh in jail. It helps us see her quicker.
There’s a guy sitting on the curb near the entrance. His head rests between his knees, making it hard to see his face. But his hair is half braided, half Afro. If I didn’t know any better . . . “Scrap?” I say.
He looks up. It’s Scrap, all right.
“Boy.” Jay outstretches her arms. Scrap walks into them. “I thought they got you, too.”
“Nah. I wasn’t there when it happened. But everybody else . . .”
Is locked up. Word is, most of the Maple Grove Garden Disciples got busted.
Jay frames his face with her hands like he’s a little boy. I guess when you’ve known someone their entire life, you can still see them that way. Pooh and Scrap have been running together since diaper days. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. You’re here to see P, huh?”
“Yeah. She asked me to come when y’all came. Hope that’s all right.”
“Of course it is. You’re family.” Jay takes his hand. “C’mon.”
Scrap follows her inside. Something’s off about him. I can’t put my finger on it. He doesn’t walk, he marches. His jaw ticks; his face is tight. It’s like he’s a bubble—one wrong move and he’ll burst at any second.
Pink and red streamers and a little Valentine’s Day banner decorate the sign-in desk, but if you’re coming in here to visit somebody, it’s hard to celebrate any holiday.
Curtis brought me a little bouquet of candy bars to school today. I gotta admit, it did make the day a little better. Boy’s got more game than I thought.
Jay gives the lady at the sign-in desk Aunt Pooh’s real name—Katricia Bordeaux. It’s always weird hearing it. She’s been Pooh my whole life. We fill out paperwork and go through security before we’re led to this small gray room. There are no windows, so no sunlight. Just stark bright lights that you see long after closing your eyes. A guard tells us to sit at the table and wait.
Scrap drums the table the whole time. After about twenty minutes, one of the guards brings Aunt Pooh in.
Jay hugs her the moment she can. Aunt Pooh and Scrap do their little handshake. Then Aunt Pooh looks at me.
I didn’t know that I’d wanna cry when I’d see her, but I swear I almost do. She holds her arms out, and I let her wrap me up in the biggest, tightest hug I didn’t know I needed.
She kisses the side of my head. “Missed you, Li’l Bit.”
“I missed you, too,” I murmur into her shoulder.
The four of us sit at the table. Aunt Pooh has to sit across from us though. Jail rules. It’s supposed to be so we won’t slip her any contraband, but it always feels like they’re saying she’s diseased or something. Jail seems isolating as hell, even when people visit you.
“I talked to your attorney this morning,” says Jay. “It’s one of those court-appointed ones. He thinks they’ll have you arraigned early next week.”
“Good,” says Aunt Pooh. “Sooner I can get outta here, sooner me and Bri can get our come up.” She holds her palm out to me across the table with a grin. I slap it. “I heard about your interview. I promise, I can handle that fool for you once I’m out. No question.”
Jay glances back and forth between us. “What interview? What fool?”
This definitely isn’t how I wanted her to find out. My leg sud
denly won’t stay still.
“The DJ Hype interview, you know?” Pooh says.
Jay turns all the way toward me. “No. I don’t know.”
I stare straight ahead. If you look an angry black momma in her eyes, there’s a chance you will turn into a pillar of salt on the spot, like ol’ girl in the Bible.
“Yeah, Bri went on his show,” Aunt Pooh snitches. “He riled her up apparently. Accused her of not writing her shit, all kinds of nonsense. I heard you went straight off, Bri.” Aunt Pooh laughs into her fist. “Got folks in here even talking.”
I can feel Jay’s glare. It’s bad. Oh, it’s bad. I stare at the wall. Somebody carved “D wuz here” into the cinder block, and I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that they were bragging about being here or that they can’t spell “was.”
“Didn’t I tell you to lay low, Bri?” Jay says.
“It’s all good, Jayda,” Aunt Pooh says. “Don’t blame her. This on Hype.” She looks at Scrap. “How that other thing going?”
“They eating this shit up,” he bites out. “We gotta handle them.”
“Handle who?” I ask.
“That’s what I wanna know,” Jay adds.
“It’s them Crown bitches,” Scrap hisses. “They think it’s funny that most of the Maple Grove GDs got taken down. Now they moving in our territory and shit. Even bragging about how they took Law’s chain from Bri. Flaunting it around.”
“Aww, hell nah,” Aunt Pooh says.
The same words go through my head, but for an entirely different reason. Once again, this is not how I wanted my mom to find out.
She turns to me. “How in the world did they get your dad’s chain?”
It’s a question, not an accusation, but honestly, it should be an accusation. I should’ve done more to keep that safety net for us. I swallow. “They robbed me. I swear, I didn’t wanna give it up, but—”
“Robbed?” she shrieks. “Oh my God, Brianna! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I already sent a message to bitch-ass that did it. Just didn’t get the chain back,” Aunt Pooh says. “We working on that though.” She eyes Scrap, and he nods.
Jay looks from him to her. “What?”
“I got some new li’l homies running with me now,” says Scrap. “They down for whatever. Bri just gotta give the word.”
“Facts,” says Aunt Pooh, slapping his palm.
It feels like a boulder just dropped into my stomach. “It’s on me to give the word?”
“They took it from you,” Aunt Pooh says. “I mean, hell yeah, we down for whatever to get one over on them fools, but this your call ultimately.”
How the hell do I suddenly have an entire gang at my disposal?
Jay closes her eyes and puts her hands up. “Wait. Are y’all saying what I think y’all are saying?”
“It’s war,” Aunt Pooh says, as if it’s nothing. “Word is some of them snitched on us in the first place. That’s why the cops was watching. Now they trying to move in on our shit, clowning us, and got the nerve to brag about robbing my niece? Nah. It’s whatever now.”
We’ve started a gang war. People may lose their lives because of us. Shit, what if it comes back at me?
I don’t know how long it’s quiet, but it is for a while. Jay stares at Aunt Pooh with her mouth slightly open.
“Wow,” she says. “Wow, wow, wow.”
“Jay, you gotta understand,” says Aunt Pooh. “This ’bout respect! We can’t let them fools think they won.”
My mom’s eyes glisten. “They haven’t won. But you’re so lost that you’ve lost.”
“What?”
“You’re in jail, Katricia,” Jay says. “Jail! Yet you’re sitting here plotting some of that same street mess that landed you here in the first place. You don’t care that this has been hell for your family. You aren’t showing any remorse. You’re plotting!”
“Jayda, they took Law’s chain,” Aunt Pooh says. “They bragging about pointing a gun in your baby’s face! They laughing about me being in here. I’m supposed to let that go?”
“Yes!” Jay says. “I don’t give a damn about that chain! Bri is okay, and that’s all that matters to me.”
“This bigger than that though,” Scrap says. “We can’t let them get away with this shit.”
“Actually, you can.” Jay looks at Aunt Pooh again. “You know what? I’m starting to realize that maybe you need to stay in here.”
“What? You not gon’ bail me out?”
“With what?” Jay bellows. “What, you got some money stashed somewhere? Huh? Please tell me if you do. Maybe I can use it to pay some of my goddamn bills!”
“Look, I got it all figured out, a’ight? You can get a loan. Use that to pay my bail and pay for a better attorney who will clear me of these charges. I’ll pay you back—”
“By doing the same stuff that put you in here in the first place!” Jay yells. She puts her hands together and holds them at her mouth. “I’ve cried over you,” she says thickly. “But I don’t think you’ve cried over yourself, and that’s the problem.”
“Jay, c’mon, please?” Her voice cracks. “If they get me for this, I’m going to prison! I can’t go to prison!”
“I don’t want you to go,” Jay says. “I don’t want you in the system, Katricia. Hell, I’ve been telling you for years that it’s built to keep you in it. But you gotta get the streets out of you somehow. Maybe this is it.” She stands and holds her hand out to me. “C’mon, Brianna.”
“Bri,” Aunt Pooh pleads. “Bri, c’mon. Tell her I’m gon’ change.”
I can’t say what I don’t know.
“Brianna, let’s go,” Jay repeats.
“Bri, tell her!”
“Stop using my child as your cover! It’s not on her to fix you, Katricia! It’s on you!”
Aunt Pooh’s jaw hardens. She straightens up, lifts her chin, and narrows her eyes. “So it’s like that? You left me to fend for myself when you got hooked on that shit, and now you leaving me to fend for myself again, huh?”
It’s a punch in my gut, and she’s not even talking about me. “How can you say that? This isn’t on—”
Jay puts her hand up to cut me off. She looks solely at Pooh. “You know what? I’m so sorry for abandoning you. It’s one of the biggest mistakes of my life. But there’s only so long you can blame what you’ve been through for what you do. At some point, you gotta blame yourself.”
She grabs my hand and takes me with her. I look back at Aunt Pooh. Her face is hard, but her lips tremble. I’ve got a feeling it’s the last time I’ll see her for a long time.
The clouds seem darker than they were when we first got here. Or I’m just imagining it. There’s no way the sky is mourning my aunt, too.
In the driver’s seat, Jay wipes her eyes. Her tears started the moment we walked out of the building.
I bite my lip. “You’re really not gonna try to bail her out?”
“I’m not getting a loan to pay her bail when we have bills, Bri, and I’m especially not doing that for somebody who’s just gonna be up to the same ol’ mess in no time.”
“She can change though,” I damn near plead. “I know she can.”
“I know it, too, Bri, but she’s gotta know it. She has to decide that enough is enough. We can’t do it for her.”
“What if she never gets there?”
Jay holds her hand out. I put mine in it. “You have to prepare yourself for that possibility, baby.”
I don’t like it, I don’t like it, I don’t like it. “I don’t wanna lose her,” I croak.
“I don’t either,” she says roughly. “God knows, I don’t. We can love her with everything in us, but it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love herself. She’s sitting in there more worried about a chain than about her own well-being.”
I stare down at my chest where the pendant used to be. “I’m sorry they took it.”
“You don’t need to apologize for that, baby,”
Jay says. “But girl, what in the world is going on with you? First it was the song, and I found out about that from a TV report. Now this chain and the Hype interview? What else are you hiding, Brianna? Huh?”
There is a superpower that black mommas possess—they can somehow go from being gentle to firm in a matter of seconds. Hell, sometimes in the same sentence.
My mouth is dry all of a sudden. “I . . .”
“What. Else?”
I stare at my Timbs. “Supreme.”
“What about Supreme? And those shoes didn’t give birth to you. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I make my eyes meet hers. “He’s got a big record deal in the works for me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why would he have a record deal for you? He’s not your manager.”
“But he is. I hired him.”
“Oh, you hired him,” she says with this fake lightness that scares me. “My bad, I must’ve missed the memo that you grown. Last time I checked, you were sixteen years old, Brianna. Six. Teen!”
“I was gonna tell you, I swear! I was just trying to get everything into place first. This was my way of saving us.”
“It’s not on you to save us!” She closes her eyes. “God, I’m not doing my job.”
Oh, crap. I never meant for her to blame herself. “It’s not like that.”
“It must be. For you to be out here, pulling stunts like this to help us, that means I’m not doing enough.”
“But you are.” My voice cracks. “You and Trey try so hard. I just wanted to make things easier. But I’m making it worse for myself. People are saying all kinds of stuff about me after that interview.”
Jay takes a deep breath. “Hype got you, huh?” She’s gentle again.
“Unfortunately. I acted a fool. Supreme’s eating it up though. The record exec, too. They think it’s great that people think I’m a ‘ratchet hood rat.’ Supreme calls it a ‘role.’”
“I’m not surprised. Supreme’s always been money hungry. That’s where he and your daddy clashed. Let me guess, he baited you, didn’t he? Threw something expensive at you so you’d wanna hire him.”