![]() ![]() And she don’t know nothing ’bout picking up her own mess, or telling her no-good friends to stop waking up the whole neighborhood at three and four in the morning with loud music, crap games, and fights. She’s seventeen, but she looks twenty-five. It was Shiketa Nixon, the girl who lives two buildings up from us. Wasn’t no stranger who whacked her over the head, neither. The newscaster on the TV in the hospital waiting room said Momma was jumped in broad daylight right out front of our place. ![]() Cry some more when I see how really bad off Momma is. I cry all the while I’m in the waiting room. ![]() ’Cause if you let ’em loose, somebody gonna say you a punk, and you won’t never live that down. If you accidentally cut your hand off in wood shop, you better hold back them tears. In school, there ain’t never a good reason to cry. Mad at God and everyone else who shoulda looked out for her, but didn’t. No way would that girl wanna be me right now, sitting in the hospital hoping my mother don’t die. You probably get to go home for doing something stupid. On my way outta English class, one girl looks at me and says, “You lucky. “Raspberry Hill,” she says real slow, with a crack in her voice. T HEY NEVER CALL ME OVER the intercom at school.īut I can tell by the way the secretary is saying my name over that thing-I’m in trouble. With love, laughter, and a well-lived life. ![]()
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