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Long Way Down

Page 3

by Jason Reynolds

the only big brother

  Shawn had ever had.

  Shawn knew Buck

  better than I did,

  knew Buck longer than

  we’d known our dad.

  I TAKE IT BACK.

  I was scared.

  What if he had come

  to get me,

  to take me

  with him?

  What if he had come

  to catch

  my breath?

  ANAGRAM NO. 1

  ALIVE = A VEIL

  09:08:05 a.m.

  CATCHING MY BREATH, I ASKED,

  So why you here?

  I wiped

  the corners

  of my mouth, thought,

  Please don’t say

  you’ve come to

  take me.

  Please don’t say

  I’m dead.

  Please.

  Actually,

  he said,

  doing the bus-stop

  lean back again,

  I came to check

  on my gun.

  MY RESPONSE

  . . .

  Then, finally,

  in an almost-whisper, he added,

  Your tail is showing.

  I PUT MY HAND BEHIND MY BACK,

  felt the imprint

  of the piece, like

  another piece

  of me,

  an extra vertebra,

  some more

  backbone.

  THOUGHT ABOUT MOVING IT

  to the front,

  but Shawn used to always say

  dogs,

  even snarling ones,

  tuck their tails between their legs,

  a sign of fear.

  A signal of

  bluff.

  I REMEMBER

  when I gave

  that thing to Shawn,

  Buck said,

  He was around your age.

  Told him he could hold it for me.

  Taught him how to use it too.

  Taught him The Rules.

  Made him promise to put it

  somewhere you couldn’t get it.

  and I replied

  with as much

  tough in

  my voice as

  I could.

  But I got it.

  AND I’M GLAD I FOUND IT,

  because I’m gonna need it,

  I explained.

  Shawn’s dead now.

  No need to tiptoe around it.

  Plus, I figured Buck already knew.

  Figured dead know dead stuff.

  Damn.

  (Dumb thing to think.)

  Happened last night.

  Followed him from the store.

  Caught him slippin’,

  gave him two to the chest

  right outside our building,

  I said,

  anger sour in the back

  of my throat.

  But I know it was the

  Dark Suns. Riggs and

  them. Had to be.

  Buck folded his arms.

  I see,

  he said,

  shaking his head,

  his mouth fading

  into frown.

  So what you ’bout to do?

  My eyes turned

  to razor blades.

  I’m about to do what

  I gotta do. What you

  woulda done.

  I squared.

  Follow The Rules.

  09:08:08 a.m.

  THE ELEVATOR RUMBLED

  and vibrated

  and knocked

  around like the middle drawer,

  like something off track.

  Scared the hell outta me.

  What’s taking

  this stupid

  thing so long?

  I asked,

  pounding the door

  as hard

  as my heart was

  pounding inside me.

  This rickety thing

  has always moved slow,

  Buck said,

  grinning.

  Yeah, but this

  is ridiculous,

  I replied,

  palms wetting.

  Might as well relax,

  Buck said.

  It’s a long

  way

  down.

  MAYBE HE DIDN’T HEAR ME

  or didn’t take me seriously.

  Old people always do that.

  Always try to act like what I’m saying ain’t true.

  Always try to act like I’m not forreal.

  But I was forreal.

  So forreal.

  RELAX?!

  I snapped.

  Relax?

  I ain’t got time to relax!

  I got work to do.

  A job to do.

  Business to handle,

  I said,

  feeling myself,

  my macho

  between

  my shaky legs,

  masking

  my jumpy heart.

  BUCK LAUGHED, AND

  laughter,

  when it’s loud

  and heavy

  and aimed

  at you,

  I think

  can feel just

  as bad as

  a bullet’s

  bang.

  YOU GOT WORK TO DO?

  A job to do?

  Buck teased,

  wiping laugh-tears

  from his eyes.

  Right, right. You gon’ follow

  The Rules, huh?

  Yeah, that’s right,

  I said,

  opening my stance

  to let him know this

  wasn’t a game,

  that I was forreal.

  Buck pressed

  his finger to my chest

  like he was pushing an

  elevator button.

  The L button.

  But you ain’t

  got it in you, Will,

  he said,

  cocky.

  Your brother did, but you—

  you don’t.

  HE ASKED ME

  if I had even checked

  to see if the gun was

  loaded.

  I hadn’t.

  And now almost shot

  myself trying

  to figure out

  how to.

  GIVE IT TO ME

  before

  you hurt yourself.

  Buck clicked something.

  The clip slid from the grip

  like a metal candy bar.

  Fourteen slugs.

  One in the hole.

  Fifteen total,

  he said,

  slamming

  the clip back in.

  How many

  should there be?

  I asked.

  Sixteen.

  But, whatever.

  09:08:11 a.m.

  HE HELD THE GUN OUT.

  I grabbed it,

  but Buck wouldn’t let go.

  I yanked and yanked,

  pulled and pulled,

  but he

  resisted and resisted,

  laughed and laughed,

  Bucked and bucked.

  BUCK FINALLY LET GO

  and I stumbled into the corner,

  slamming against the wall

  like a clown.

  You don’t got it in you,

  he repeated

  over and over again

  under his un-breath

  while sliding a pack

  of cigarettes from

  his pocket.

  Tossed one in his mouth,

  struck a match that sounded

  like a finger snap.

  Then the elevator came to a stop.

  I HAD HALF A SECOND

  to

  get a grip,

  grab the grip,

  tuck the gun,

  turn around,

  ignore Buck,

  catch my br
eath,

  stand up straight,

  act normal

  act natural

  act like

  the only rules

  that matter

  are the ones

  for the elevator.

  A GIRL STEPPED IN.

  Stood beside me.

  Around my age.

  Fine as heaven.

  Flower dress.

  Low heels.

  Light makeup,

  lip gloss,

  cheek stuff.

  Perfume,

  sweet,

  fresh,

  cutting

  through the cigarette smoke.

  SHE CHECKED TO MAKE SURE

  L was lit.

  And I was

  walking my eyes

  up her legs,

  the ruffle and fold

  of her flower

  dress, her

  arms, her

  neck, her

  cheek, her

  hair.

  Then

  the bus-stop

  lean back

  to get a glimpse

  of the world.

  But the metal barrel

  dug into my back,

  making me wince,

  making me obvious

  and wack.

  09:08:12 a.m.

  I DIDN’T KNOW

  smoking

  was allowed

  in elevators,

  she said,

  her small talk smacking

  with sarcasm.

  But I was too shook

  to notice.

  You . . . can see that?

  I replied

  all goofy,

  my game no good

  around ghosts.

  I wondered if she

  thought it was me

  lighting up

  before she

  got on

  since she couldn’t see

  Buck in the corner

  puffing out,

  making faces like,

  Get on

  with it.

  Uh . . . of course.

  It’s everywhere,

  she said,

  pinching

  back a cough.

  She fanned smoke

  from her face,

  thumbed to Buck,

  who shook his head and

  blew vanishing halos.

  She could see him.

  She could see him?

  She could see him!

  Then

  she turned to me

  and added,

  I didn’t know

  guns

  were allowed

  in elevators either.

  SHE COULD SEE

  Buck?

  But how?

  I thought he was

  only my ghost,

  only my grand

  imagination.

  But

  when she

  could see him,

  could smell his funky

  cigarette,

  I knew for a fact

  this was real.

  AT THIS POINT

  you probably

  already don’t

  believe me

  or think I’m nuts.

  And maybe I am.

  But I swear

  this is all

  true.

  Swear.

  I JOINED IN,

  fanning the smoke,

  shaking her comment

  about the gun,

  looking at Buck

  all crazy.

  But he ain’t care.

  Just leaned back and

  took another pull on the cig,

  burning but not burning down.

  Still long.

  Fire.

  Smoke.

  But no ash.

  SHE BRUSHED HER HAND AGAINST MINE

  to get my attention,

  which on any other

  occasion would’ve

  been the perfect

  open for me to flirt

  or at least try to do

  my best impression of Shawn,

  which was

  his best impression of Buck.

  BUT THERE WAS A GHOST

  IN THE ELEVATOR

  so,

  no-

  go.

  PLUS

  it’s hard to think about

  kissing and killing

  at the same time.

  SHE ASKED,

  What you need

  it for anyway?

  And when I

  looked confused

  (pretended to

  look confused),

  she ticked

  tongue to teeth

  and clarified,

  The gun.

  09:08:15 a.m.

  THE NEXT EXCHANGE WAS A SIMPLE ONE.

  I don’t mean no harm,

  but that ain’t something

  you just ask someone

  you don’t even know,

  I said,

  still trying to

  play cool.

  The girl nodded,

  replied,

  You’re right.

  So right.

  BUT THEN

  she put her hand on my shoulder,

  her perfume floating from her wrist

  to just under my nostrils, said,

  But

  I do

  know

  you,

  Will.

  I WON’T FRONT.

  I was a little excited.

  I know I just said flirting

  on an elevator with

  a ghost on it was a

  no-

  go,

  but we wouldn’t be

  on this elevator forever.

  And Shawn always said

  if a girl says she knows you

  but you ain’t never met her

  then she’s been

  watching you.

  Clockin’ you.

  Checkin’ you.

  Buck probably taught him that.

  I hoped it was true.

  FROM WHERE?

  is what I came with next,

  loading up my flirts.

  Where you know me from?

  The girl smiled.

  With her eyes.

  From the playground,

  she said.

  Monkey bars.

  VERY FUNNY,

  I said,

  picking up on

  her trying to play me.

  I ain’t no monkey.

  I never said you were,

  she replied.

  I’m being serious.

  Well, then you got the

  wrong guy because I’m too

  old to be hanging

  at playgrounds.

  Yeah, but I knew you

  when you weren’t.

  SHE OPENED HER PURSE,

  dug around,

  pulled out a wallet,

  unfolded it,

  turned it toward

  me to flash a photo

  like white people

  on movies when they

  want to show off their kids.

  But I wasn’t trying to see no kids.

  But there they were.

  There we were.

  ME AND MY FRIEND DANI

  as kids.

  Eight

  years old.

  No-knee’d jeans and

  hand-me-down T-shirt

  from Shawn.

  Flower dress,

  shorts underneath

  for Dani,

  who hung from a monkey bar

  tongue hanging from her mouth

  like pink candy.

  The sun shining in my eyes.

  The sunshine in hers.

  09:08:18 a.m.

  YOU REMEMBER THIS?

  the girl asked,

  folding

  snapping

  the wallet shut.

  Of course,

  I said,

  wondering how she
<
br />   knew Dani.

  It was one of the best

  and worst days of my life.

  You remember, on this day,

  she paused,

  cocking her

  head to the side,

  hands on hips,

  butterflied arms,

  and continued,

  I kissed you?

  MY EYES GOT BIG.

  Dani?

  This was Dani. Dani.

  Standing in front of me.

  The flower dress

  the same.

  Her face

  eight years older than

  eight years old

  but still

  the same.

  YEAH, I REMEMBER.

  I remember.

  I remember that.

  I remember this.

  And then . . .

  I got hung up.

  And then . . .

  Gunshots,

  she said.

  Gunshots.

  GUNSHOTS

  like firecrackers

  coming from everywhere.

  Dani said her body burned

  and all she wanted to do was

  jump outside of herself,

  swing to somewhere else

  like we pretended to do

  on monkey bars.

  AND NOW I WANNA THROW UP,

  Buck baited.

  He heh-heh-heh’d,

  the cigarette dangling,

  bouncing with each word

  like a fishing pole

  with fish on bait,

  with hook through head.

  I TOLD DANI

  how I remember

  Shawn screaming for us to

  get down.

  How he lay on top of us,

  covering us, smashing us

  into the dirt.

  I told her how I remember

  staring at her the whole

  time.

  Her eyes wide, the brightness

  dimming. Her mouth, open.

  Bubble gum

  and blood.

  I SWEAR SOMETIMES

  it feels like God

  be flashing photos

 

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