On the Come Up(70)

I don’t know whether to focus on him or his piece. “What?”

He motions his gun toward my chest. “I want that chain.”

Shit. I forgot to tuck it.

“See, your daddy was real disrespectful, walking around with that crown on his chain and calling himself the King of the Garden while rolling with them Disciple bitches,” the Crown says. “So, you gon’ right his wrong and hand that shit over.”

“I can’t—” I’m shaking like I’ve got chills. “It’s my—”

He points his gun at me. “I said hand it over!”

Some people say that your life flashes before your eyes in moments like this. But for me, all the stuff I haven’t done flashes before mine. Making it big, getting out of the Garden, living past sixteen. Going home.

“I . . . I can’t . . .” My teeth chatter. “I can’t give this up.”

“Bitch, did I stutter? Hand that shit over!”

“Man, chill—”

The Crown rams his fist into Malik’s face. Malik hits the ground.

“Malik!” I start for him.

Click click. The gun cocks.

“Please?” I blubber. “Please don’t take it.”

I can’t lose this thing. My mom could’ve pawned it by now and taken care of bills, filled our fridge, but she entrusted it to me. Me. I know she said she wouldn’t get rid of it, but I always figured if things got really hard, we could sell it.

Losing it will be like losing a safety net.

“Oh, look who crying,” the Crown mocks. “What about all that disrespectful shit you talked on your song, huh?”

“It’s just a song!”

“I don’t give a fuck!” He points the gun directly between my eyes. “Now you gon’ make this easy or make it hard?”

Malik groans near my feet. He holds his eye.

I can’t risk his life or mine. Not even to make sure my family is okay.

I straighten up and look the Crown dead in his eyes. I want this coward to look in mine and see no fear.

“The chain,” he says through his teeth.

I lift it from around my neck. The pendant glistens, even in the dark.

The Crown snatches it out of my hands. “That’s what I thought.”

He keeps his eyes on me, and I keep mine on him as he backs up to his car. He doesn’t lower his gun until he’s in his Camaro. He speeds off down the street, taking my family’s safety net with him.





Part Three


New School





Twenty-Two


I almost got killed by a Crown. So I call my aunt, the Garden Disciple.

Soon as she hears “robbed,” she’s on her way.

Malik and I wait on the curb. His eye is starting to bruise and swell. He claims he’s okay, but that’s all he’s said since the Camaro sped off.

I wrap my arms around myself. There’s a tight knot in my stomach that won’t go away. Not sure I want it to. It’s like it’s holding every inch of me together and the moment it comes undone, I’m screwed.

Aunt Pooh’s Cutlass races down the street. It barely stops beside us when she and Scrap hop out. They both have their guns.

“What the hell?” she says. “Who did this shit?”

“That Crown who messed with us at Jimmy’s,” I bite out.

Malik whips his head at me. “Wait, you’ve dealt with him before?”

It sounds like an accusation more than a question.

“We had a li’l run-in” is all Aunt Pooh says. “What he take, Bri?”

My jaw aches from clenching it so hard. “The chain.”

Aunt Pooh folds her hands on her head. “Shit!”

“The Crown’s been wanting that chain since they killed Law,” Scrap says.

For what? So they could have a trophy for taking my daddy from me?

“I didn’t wanna give it up.” Dammit, my voice cracks. “He had a gun and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Aunt Pooh says. “He held y’all at gunpoint?”

There’s fury in her eyes waiting to spark. I know six words that will light it up.

My own fury makes me say them with ease. “He pointed it in my face.”

Aunt Pooh slowly straightens up. Her face is blank, calm almost. “This ain’t over.”

She marches for the car, her way of telling us to come on. Malik hangs back on the sidewalk.

“You coming?” I ask him.

“No. I’ll walk home. It’s only a couple of blocks.”

Home. Where Aunt ’Chelle’s probably waiting by now. “Hey, um . . . Maybe don’t tell Aunt ’Chelle about this, all right?”

“Are you serious?” Malik says. “You got robbed, Bri! I got a black eye!”

I’m as serious as a heart attack. He tells her, she’ll tell my mom, and my mom will bring a halt to anything Aunt Pooh and I plan to do. “Just don’t, okay?”

“Wait, are you thinking of going after that guy?”

I don’t respond.

“Bri, are you nuts?” Malik says. “You can’t go after him! You’re asking for trouble.”