On the Come Up(60)

Soon I’m on my bike with my headphones, my backpack, and my dad’s chain tucked under my hoodie, headed to Clover Street.

I pedal fast so I don’t freeze. Granddaddy says that cold weather’s the only thing that’ll shut the Garden down. That explains why the streets are almost deserted.

Riding through Clover is like riding through an abandoned war zone. The Fish Hut is one of the only places still standing. Aunt Pooh says it’s ’cause Mr. Barry, the owner, put “black owned” on the doors during the riots. Yeah, she was out during all of that. Even looted some stores and got a couple of TVs.

I haven’t heard from her since the Ring. She hasn’t ghosted, nah. Jay talked to her last night. Aunt Pooh just doesn’t wanna talk to me.

Supreme’s Hummer sits in a spot near the door of the Fish Hut. I take my bike in with me. I’d be a damn fool to leave it outside. I’d never get it back. Plus, Mr. Barry, the owner, won’t trip. In fact, he says, “Hey, Li’l Law!” soon as I walk in. I get away with a hell of a lot because of my dad.

The Fish Hut has wood-paneled walls like my grandparents’ den, but there’s this kinda dark, greasy film on them. Grandma would never let her walls look like that. A TV in the ceiling corner always plays a news station, and Mr. Barry always yells at it. Today he’s at the counter talking about, “Can’t believe a damn thing that come outta that fool’s mouth!”

Supreme’s got a table in the corner. I’m starting to think he never takes those dark sunglasses off. He stuffs his face with fried fish and eggs—that’s the Fish Hut’s breakfast special. When he sees me, he wipes his mouth. “The celebrity of the hour is here.”

He points to the seat across from him. I prop my bike against the wall as he motions Mr. Barry over. “Mr. B! Make sure you get this young lady whatever she wants. It’s on me.”

Mr. Barry writes our orders on his pad. I used to think he looked like a young Santa Claus with his full black beard and mustache. It’s grayer these days.

I go for the shrimp and grits with a Sunkist. It’s never too early for Sunkist—it’s fizzy orange juice. I’ll stand by that until I die.

“Props on hitting number one on Dat Cloud,” Supreme says after Mr. Barry walks away. “Got you a congratulatory gift.”

He pulls a gift bag from under the table. It’s not huge, but it’s heavy enough that I have to grab it with both hands. Inside, there’s a dark-gray shoe box with a tree logo on it.

I look up at Supreme. He flashes those gold fangs.

“Go ’head,” he says. “Open it.”

I slide the box out of the bag. I already know what’s inside, but my heart still speeds up. I flip the lid on the box and can’t even stop the “Oh, shit” that comes out of my mouth.

A pair of brand-new Timbs. Not the scuffed ones at the community center giveaway but brand-new, never-worn Timbs.

“Now, if the size is wrong, I can exchange them, no problem,” Supreme says as I take one out.

I trace the tree carved into the side of the boot. My eyes are prickly as hell. I worked months to buy a pair. Months. Still hadn’t made enough when Dr. Rhodes suspended me for selling candy. It was a finish line I could never reach. Yet Supreme’s just handing me a pair like it’s nothing.

I can’t believe I’m about to say this though. “I can’t take these.”

“Why not?”

My granddaddy says you never take big gifts that seem to be for no reason, because there’s a chance that there’s a big reason you can’t afford. “Why’d you get them for me?”

“I told you, to congratulate you on hitting number one,” he says.

“Yeah, but these cost a ton—”

Supreme laughs. “A ton? They only one fifty. I spend more than that on sunglasses.”

“Oh.”

Damn. I wish one fifty was chump change for me. Shit, I probably look dumb as hell for saying that’s a ton of money. Not to mention broke as hell.

Mr. B brings my shrimp and grits. I keep my eyes on them for the longest.

“It’s all good,” Supreme says. “I remember when that was a hell of a lot of money to me, too. Keep the shoes. I swear, ain’t no strings attached.”

I glance down at my faux pair. The bottom has slowly started to separate from the rest of the boot. Doubt they can last another month. Maybe not even a week.

I mumble, “Thank you” and stuff both boots into my backpack.

“You’re welcome.”

Supreme shakes hot pepper sauce onto his plate. “I thought that shit at the Ring was gonna have people talking. You really went and outdid yourself, huh, baby girl?”

Um, did he watch the same news report that I watched? “They’re not exactly talking in a good way.”

“Truthfully, this probably the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Publicity is publicity, I don’t give a damn how bad it is. It made you number one on Dat Cloud, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but not everybody’s listening because they like it.” Trust me, I messed up and read the comments. “What if people make a lot of noise because of what happened at my school?”

“Ah, so that’s your school?”

That’s one thing the news didn’t tell. Probably can’t for legal reasons. “Yeah. Part of the reason people were upset is because of something that happened to me.”