by Angie Thomas
“Ain’t no man coming in my house fixing nothing,” Granddaddy says. “I got it.”
Grandma goes, “Mm-hmm. That’s why it’s been flickering forever. Trey, you found a smart girl here. She got a high GPA. Studying marketing and even pursuing a music career on the side.”
“Look at that,” Mom says. “It’s possible to go college and rap.”
I don’t even justify that with a glance.
“It’s hard juggling it all,” Kayla admits. “I work to not only pay my bills but to fund my music projects. I’m independent.”
“An independent woman!” Granddaddy grins as he opens his can of soda. “Go ’head, then!”
“Granddaddy, she means independent music-wise,” says Trey. “Not that she’s not independent overall, but she doesn’t have a record label behind her.”
“Like Junior before he passed—Brianna, put some more greens on your plate!” Grandma snips.
“Oh my God,” I say under my breath. I swear, I’ll never eat enough vegetables to meet this woman’s quota. Besides, as many ham hocks as she’s got in these greens, it’s hard to say they’re vegetables anymore.
“Aww, leave my Li’l Bit alone,” Granddaddy says. He presses his greasy lips against my cheek. “She a carnivore like her granddaddy.”
“No, she stubborn like her granddaddy, that’s all that is,” Grandma says.
“He’s not the only stubborn one,” I mumble.
“Heh-heh-heh!” Granddaddy chuckles and puts his fist out to me. I bump it. “My girl!”
I laugh as he kisses my cheek again. Not long ago, my mom asked me who I am. I’m starting to think I know.
You see, I’m headstrong (and petty) like Grandma.
I’m creative like Granddaddy. If that’s what you can call what he is, but yeah, I’m that.
I speak my mind like Mom. I might be as strong as her, too.
I care so much that it hurts. Like Trey.
I’m like my dad in a lot of ways, even if I’m not him.
And although Kayla isn’t family (yet), maybe she’s a glimpse at who I could be.
If I’m nothing else, I’m them, and they’re me.
That’s more than enough.
Thirty-Four
On Thursday night, Trey chaperones me to the Ring.
Mom asked him to go. She refused to come along herself. She said she might hurt Supreme, and that wouldn’t help me at all. Plus, according to her, “We only need one family member in jail.”
Yeah, I’m going for it. Things may be looking up, but who’s to say they won’t fall apart again? What I look like, giving up this chance?
Trey lets all the windows in his Honda down and blasts “On the Come Up” on high as we roll through the Garden. There’s a chill in the air just like there was when Aunt Pooh took me weeks ago. The combination of the cold and the warmth from Trey’s heater is just as A-1 tonight as it was then.
“‘You can’t stop me, dun-dun-dun-dun,’” Trey tries to rap along. “‘You can’t stop me, nope, nope. Dun-dun-dun-dun, get done up.’”
The rap gene clearly skipped him. Clearly.
Sonny and Malik snicker in the backseat. “Yas, kill it, boo,” Sonny eggs him on. “Kill it!”
“Get it, Trey!” says Malik.
I glare back at them. I swear to God, if they don’t stop encouraging this, I will murder them.
“I got bars, son!” Trey says. “Bars! Deadass.”
Oh my God, since when did he become a New Yorker? I tug my hoodie over my eyes. He’s trying to amp me up, I get that, but this? This is the hottest of hot messes.
It’s totally something Aunt Pooh would do though. Except she’d get the lyrics right.
It’s weird going to the Ring without her. Actually, it’s weird that she’s not around, period. This isn’t like when she’d disappear and I’d worry about where she was. Somehow knowing where she is feels worse. If she were here, she’d tell me to shake it off and keep it moving. That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s what I gotta do if I wanna kill this performance and get this record deal.
Trey stops his poor attempt at rapping when we pull into the Ring. Tonight, the marquee sign lets everyone know that there will be “a special performance by the Garden’s own Bri!”
“Damn. We’re hanging with a celebrity, huh?” Malik teases from the backseat.
“Ha! I’m only hood famous. I’m glad y’all came.”
“We couldn’t miss this,” Sonny says. “You know we’ve always got your back.”
“Yeah, I know.” I know that even if I don’t know anything else about our friendship.
The “let out” in the parking lot is already happening. Music blasts around us, folks show off their cars. I get shouts and nods along the way. One guy tells me, “Keep reppin’ the Garden, Bri!”
“All day!” I call back. “East side!”
That gets me even more love.
Another thing I am? The Garden. And the Garden is me. I’m forever good with that.
“Hey, Bri!” a squeaky voice calls.
I turn around. Jojo pedals over on that dirt bike of his. The beads on his braids clink against each other.
What in the world? “What you doing out here?” I ask him.
He skids to a stop just in front of me. This child loves to give me heart attacks. “I came to see you perform.”
“By yourself?” Trey asks.
Jojo stares at the ground as he rolls his front wheel back and forth a bit. “I ain’t by myself. I’m with y’all.”
“Jojo, you don’t need to be out alone at night.”
“I wanted to see you do your new song. I bet that sh—thing—is dope!”
I sigh. “Jojo.”
He puts his hands together. “Pleeeease.”
This child. But the truth is, it’s better if he’s with us than if he’s by himself. “Okay, fine,” I say, and he pumps his fist. “But we’re taking you straight home afterward, Jojo. I’m not even playing.”
“And you’re gonna give me your momma’s number so I can call her,” Trey adds. “Somebody needs to know where you at.”
Jojo climbs off his bike. “Man, y’all worried for nothing! I go where I wanna go.”
Trey hooks an arm around his neck. “Then we need to find out why that’s so.”
Jojo puffs up his chest. “I’m almost grown.”
The four of us bust out laughing.
“Sweetie, your voice still squeaks,” Sonny says. “Stop playing yourself.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket as we head for the building.
It’s Curtis. I’ve officially gone off the deep end. After our date on Monday, I put the heart-eyes emoji next to his name in my contacts. I mean, the boy brought me flowers and a Storm comic, and since we didn’t have time to stay for dessert at the restaurant, he brought me a small pack of Chips Ahoy! to eat on the way back to school. He earned those heart eyes. He just sent a couple of texts to guarantee that he keeps them.
Do your thing tonight, Princess.
Wish I could be there.
I probably couldn’t pay attention to your song tho
I’d be staring at you too hard
Corny? Yes. But it gets a smile out of me. Before I can respond, though, he adds:
I’d be staring at that ass too but you know I probably ain’t supposed to admit that.
I smirk.
Why you admitting it now then?
His answer?
Cause I bet it made you smile
Just for that, I’m adding a second heart-eyes emoji to his name.
We skip the line like I usually do. I get shoulder slaps, dap, and nods along the way. I really do feel like the princess of the Garden.
But there’s a gang of guys in gray who look at me like I’m anything but a princess.
About five or six Crowns are in the line. One notices me and nudges another one, and soon all of them are staring hard. I swallow and look straight ahead. It’s kinda like how it is with dogs—you can�
��t let them see your fear or otherwise you’re screwed.
Trey touches my shoulder. He knows what happened. “Just keep going,” he whispers.
“Look who’s back,” Reggie the stocky bouncer says when we get to the doors. “Heard you’re gonna put on a show for us tonight.”
“That’s the plan,” I say.
“Still carrying the torch for Law, huh?” says Frank, the taller one, as he waves the metal detector wand around us.
“Nah. Got my own torch. I think that’s what my dad would want.”
Frank nods. “You probably right about that.”
Reggie motions us through and points at my Black Panther hoodie. “Wakanda forever.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
Look at him, actually getting a catchphrase right.
Frank and Reggie let Jojo leave his bike with them. We’re about to head inside when a deep voice says, “How the fuck they skipping the line?”
I don’t even have to look. I know it’s a Crown. They’re probably itching for a reason to start some shit.
“Man, chill,” says Frank. “Li’l Law performing tonight.”
“I don’t give a damn what that bitch doing,” says a Crown in a gray beanie. “They can take their asses to the back.”
“Hold up now,” says Trey. “Who—”
Jojo advances on the Crown. “Who the fuck you think you talking to?”
I grab his collar before he can get any closer. “Jojo, no!”
“Man, sit your li’l ass down!” says the Crown in the beanie. He eyes me. “See, we thought we had put you in your place for that shit you rapped, but apparently not. Your aunty should’ve shot to kill when she had the chance. Now she just done gave you problems.”
At this point, I don’t know how I’m standing.
“Try it if you want!” says Jojo. “We’ll mess you up!”
The Crowns bust out laughing.
I feel sick though. This little boy is serious.
Malik grabs Jojo’s arm. “C’mon,” he says, and pulls Jojo with him. He and Sonny walk in, glancing back at the Crowns.
Trey’s right by my side, staring every single one of them down. He leads me inside.
Every inch of me is tense until the doors of the boxing gym close behind us.
Trey takes a deep breath too. “You okay?” he asks.
No, but I nod because I’m supposed to.
“Look, we can go home, all right?” he says. “This ain’t worth all that.”
“I’m good.”
He sighs. “Bri—”
“They stopped Dad, Trey. I can’t let them stop me, too.”
He wants to argue. I see it in his eyes.
“Look, they can’t do anything in here tonight,” I say. “Reggie and Frank don’t let weapons come through the doors. I gotta go after this.”
He bites his lip. “And then what? This ain’t gonna just go away, Bri.”
“I’ll figure something out,” I say. “But please? I gotta stay.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “All right. It’s your call.”
He holds his fist out to me. I bump it.
I don’t know how any of those people in line will get in—this place is already super packed. I’m talking wall-to-wall. That dumbass Hype plays some Lil Wayne over all the chatter.
It takes me a second to spot Supreme. He’s over near the boxing ring itself. I throw up my hand to get his attention. He notices and makes his way over.
“You good with this, too?” Trey whispers.
He may have taken Mom’s place so she wouldn’t jump Supreme, but I’m sure Trey’s not too fond of him either. “You good” really means, “You want me to check this guy or nah?”
“I’m good with that, too.” I say.
“The superstar is here!” Supreme announces. I let him give me a quick hug. “And I see you brought your li’l crew with you, huh? Trey, boy, I ain’t seen you since you were about as little as this one here.” He reaches to ruffle Jojo’s hair.
Jojo dodges his hand. “I ain’t little!”
Supreme chuckles. “My bad, man. My bad.”
“So you’re Supreme?” Sonny says.
His eyes are almost narrowed at Miles’s dad. I can tell it’s taking a lot for him to not say what’s on his mind. But from what Sonny told me, Miles isn’t ready to tell his dad about them.
“The one and only,” Supreme says, and turns to me. “I got James a front row seat. I also got you a li’l greenroom in the back so you can make your grand entrance later.”
“We’ll come back with you,” Malik says, eyeing him. He’s not too crazy about Supreme either.
“Y’all go ahead. I’m gonna take this li’l wanna-be gangsta to find a good spot,” Trey says. “C’mon, Jojo. We need to have a li’l chat. How to not show your ass, one-oh-one.”
I watch them until they disappear into the crowd.
Supreme grasps my shoulder. “You ready to get this contract?”
I thought I was. But like Aunt Pooh would say, I gotta shake it off. I swallow. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Malik, Sonny, and I follow Supreme to the back. The hallway walls are covered in posters of hip-hop legends. It’s like they watch every single step that I take.
Supreme takes me to the “greenroom” — it used to be a storage room. It’s tiny, with just a few chairs and a refrigerator, but it’s a quiet place away from the chaos.
Supreme leaves so I can get in my zone. Plus, he wants to go keep James company out front.
I lower myself into one of the chairs. Sonny and Malik take the other two. I suck in a deep breath and let it out.
“I’m sorry about the Crowns,” Malik says.
“This is on me and Aunt Pooh.”
“All this over some lyrics?” Sonny asks.
I nod.
“That’s bullshit,” says Sonny.
“Jojo was ready to go to war for you though,” Malik says with a smirk.
Sonny laughs. “Like he was actually gonna do something.” He helps himself to some chips from the snack basket on the coffee table. “I know you’re not taking that li’l boy seriously, Bri.”
“Right. We used to pretend to be ‘gangster’ when we were younger, too,” Malik adds.
We did go through a phase. I saw Aunt Pooh throw up Garden Disciple signs so much that I figured I could, too. Even drew the GD symbol in my notebooks.
But I wasn’t going around telling people I’d mess them up.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Sonny calls with a mouth full of chips.
Scrap, of all people, peeks into the greenroom. “Ay, Bri? You got a minute?”
I straighten up. “Yeah. What you doing here?”
Scrap gives Malik and Sonny quick nods. “Had to come see my new favorite rapper perform. Plus, your boy is the reason you here tonight, you know?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Nah, I don’t know.”
“I’m the one told you to make a banger!” Scrap says. “I told you it had to be catchy, too. I know, I know. I’m a genius, right?”
On what planet? “Umm . . . yeah. Sure.”
“Just give me my shout-out onstage and we good,” he claims. “I got somebody who wanna holla at you.”
He hands me his phone.
There is no way this is who I think it is. “Hello?”
“Now, see, I ain’t been gone long, and you already ain’t sounding like yourself,” Aunt Pooh says. “How you gon’ be a superstar tonight, sounding all soft and shit?”
“Shut up.” I laugh, and she joins in. I almost forgot what her laugh sounds like. “Damn. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she says. “Ay, look, I ain’t got a lot of time, but I had to talk to you. Scrap told me you performing tonight. Go in there and kill it, a’ight? If you choke again, I’m gon’ bust outta here just to whoop your ass. On my momma.”
That’s her way of saying, “I love you.” I don’t tell her about the Crowns. She doesn’t need th
at on her right now. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
“You know I may be getting out sooner than later, right?” she says. “My attorney thinks he can get me the minimum. Especially since I ain’t got no violent offenses.”
That they know about. But hey, I’ll take it. “That’s dope.”
Supreme comes back. He seems to stare at Scrap. Scrap gives him an up-and-down like, “We got a problem?”
Supreme turns to me and points to his watch.
“I gotta go,” I tell Aunt Pooh.
“A’ight. Go kill it,” Aunt Pooh says. “Sky’s still the limit, superstar.”
“We’ll see them chumps on top,” I finish for her. “I love you.”
“Sentimental ass, I love you, too. Now go do your thing.”
My eyes prickle as I pass Scrap his phone. “Thank you,” I tell him.
“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Go kill it. For Pooh.”
Malik, Sonny, and I follow Supreme into the hallway. Supreme wraps an arm around me and pulls me close into his side.
“Look at you, hanging with GDs,” he whispers. “Trying to make it look authentic like I suggested, huh?”
I move away from him. “Nah, I don’t do that.”
We step into the gym and a rush of sound and lights hit us. There’s barely room to move in here, yet somehow the crowd clears a path for us. Supreme leads me toward the boxing ring. Like outside in the line, people give me palm slaps or pat my back along the way. Anything to touch me, as if it’s their way of wishing me luck.
“All right, y’all. She got her start right here in the Ring,” Hype says to the crowd as I make my way over. “Ever since, she’s been on the come up, pun intended.”
He’s so much cornier than I realized.
“Here to perform her new single, give it up for Bri, y’all!”
I hold my fist out to Sonny and Malik. They knock theirs against it, we give each other dap, and chunk the deuces. We’re still the Unholy Trinity.
“Bam!” we say.
“Don’t choke this time,” Sonny adds. “I don’t wanna have to disown you.”
I purse my lips. He cheeses.
Supreme lifts the ropes so I can climb into the Ring and hands me a mic. The spotlight hits me, just like it did all those weeks ago. The screams are deafening.