On the Come Up(79)

You know, there was a time his little jokes would’ve made me roll my eyes. They still do, but now I smirk. “Boy, nobody’s stalking you. I’m here to see my aunt.”

We dodge some shirtless guy who runs to catch a football sailing in the air. He’s gotta be freezing.

Curtis stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I went to see my mom this weekend.”

“For real? How’d it go?”

“She was so happy she cried. I hadn’t really thought of how much it hurt her when I was staying away. I thought I was helping. Kinda messed up that I was hurting her more than any of that prison shit.”

“You didn’t know,” I say. “Besides, I’m sure she understood why it was hard for you.”

“She actually did. I told her you convinced me to go. She said that you sound like a smart girl. She ain’t lying about that.”

“Wow, all of these compliments lately, from the same person who said my head was big enough. Why are you trying to make it bigger?”

“Whatever, Princess. For real though. Thank you,” Curtis says.

“You’re welcome.” I punch his arm. “But that’s for calling my head big.”

“Was I lying?”

A gang of little kids bound toward us. Jojo pedals behind them on his bike. Curtis goes, “Whoa!” and jumps out of their way just before they swarm me.

“Bri, can I get your autograph?” a little girl with a ponytail asks.

“Your song is my favorite!” a boy in a puffy coat adds.

They all want me to sign something or pose for a selfie.

“Y’all, stop being thirsty,” Jojo says. “One at a time, people.”

Curtis laughs as he walks away. “You hood famous, Princess.”

Damn, I guess I am. I have to come up with an autograph on the spot. I’ve never signed anything other than school forms, and that’s different. These kids are cool with my little scribbles.

“Bri, tell them me and you homies,” Jojo says. “They don’t believe me.”

“We’re homies,” I say, signing my name for a little boy who’s sucking his thumb. “Long as you’ve been going to school and staying out of trouble.” I look up at him as I write.

“I been going to school!” he says. No mention of the trouble part.

“Me and my twin know all the words to your song!” this snaggle-toothed girl pipes up.

I scribble my name for her. “Oh, for real?”

“‘Strapped like backpacks, I pull triggers,’” she and her sister squeak. “‘All the clips on my hips change my figure.’”

I stop writing.

How old are they? Six? Seven?

“I told them you be blasting niggas, Bri,” Jojo says. “Don’t you?”

My stomach churns. “No, I don’t, Jo—”

“Ay, ay, ay!” Aunt Pooh calls out as she comes over. She moves several of the kids out of her way. “Y’all, chill out. Give the superstar a break, a’ight?”

Aunt Pooh leads me toward the courtyard. I glance back at Jojo and his friends. I’ve got them rapping about guns and shit. Is that even okay?

Aunt Pooh hops up on the hood of Scrap’s car. He’s nowhere around. She pats the spot beside her. “You good?”

She’s been MIA for over a week after vowing to go kill somebody. How does she think I am? “Where you been?”

“Look, that ain’t your business.”

“Are you kidding—I been texting you! You had me worried! You remember the last time I saw you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you—”

“Don’t worry ’bout what I did. I ain’t get the chain back, so it don’t even matter.”

Oh, shit. She did something. I fold my hands on top of my head. “Please don’t tell me you killed—”

“Ain’t nobody dead, Bri,” she says.

“I’m supposed to feel better about that? What did you do?”

“The less you know, the better, a’ight!” she snaps.

Oh, God. Thing is, nobody has to be dead. Aunt Pooh just started something, regardless, and starting something in the Garden is never good.

Retaliation never ends around here. But lives do. Worst part? It’s on me.

“Shit,” I hiss.

“Bri, chill!” Aunt Pooh says. “I told you, ain’t nobody dead.”

“That won’t make a difference! They could—”

“They ain’t gon’ do shit,” Aunt Pooh claims.

“I shouldn’t have called you. I don’t want them coming after you.”

“Look, I’m ready for whatever, whenever,” she says. “I’m sorrier that I didn’t get that chain back for you.”

Once upon a time I was devastated to lose that thing, but now? It seems worthless. “I’d rather have you.”

“Me.” She says it almost mockingly, as if she’s a joke. “Shit, I ain’t gon’ lie. You just gave me an excuse to go after them fools. I been wanting to do something to them.”

“Because of Dad?”

Aunt Pooh nods. “Why you think I became a Garden Disciple in the first place? I wanted to go after whoever killed Law.”