On the Come Up(103)

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.”