If I Grow Up Read Free Page B

she had to take the tissue out of her sleeve and dab her eyes.
    â€œHow can you laugh like that?” I asked. “You’ve seen this episode a hundred times.”
    â€œSomething got to make me laugh,” Gramma said, still jiggling. “After what happened to that little boy.”
    Pop! Pop! Pop! Outside they started shooting. It sounded more like cap guns than the big bangs you heard on the TV. Next thing I knew, Gramma was down on the floor next to me and I smelled her perfume. She raised her head alertly. “Where’s Nia?” she asked, even though we both knew she was with her boyfriend, LaRue.
    Pop! Pop! Crash! More shots, and somewhere nearby a window shattered. Bang. A door slammed downstairs, and we heard rapid steps coming up. A key jiggled in the lock and Nia rushed in. My sister was fourteen and had long, straight brown hair and, almost always, a smile. She was breathing hard, and her face was flushed from running. But her eyes gleamed with excitement.
    Gramma propped herself up on her elbows. “Get down!” she commanded.
    Still gasping for breath, Nia dropped to one knee.
    â€œYou’re gonna get yourself killed someday,” Gramma muttered, even as she relaxed knowing that Nia was safe.
    â€œThose boys shoot all the time,” Nia scoffed.
    â€œYou forget how your momma died?” Gramma snapped. “How many times I have to tell you not to run when they shoot? You could run right into the cross fire. You hear shootin’, you drop to the ground and stay there.”
    â€œAnd get my clothes all dirty?” My sister shook her head.
    The shooting stopped. The TV was still on, and Redd Foxx’s gravelly voice and the laugh track lured Gramma back to the couch. Nia flopped down and put her arms around Gramma’s neck and hugged her.
    â€œDeShawn,” my sister said. “Turn the channel to BET.”
    â€œHey!” Gramma started to protest.
    â€œOh, come on,” Nia said with a laugh. “You seen Sanford and Son so many times, you know it by heart.”
    I grinned at Gramma. “ Told you.”
    â€œYou two are too smart for your own good,” she grumbled.
    Pop! Pop! Pop! The shooting started again, but now it sounded far away. Gramma stiffened but then looked at Nia and me and relaxed. We were safe. At least for tonight.
    WEAPONS
    Gramma’s apartment had one bedroom with one bed, which she and Nia shared. I slept on the living room couch. On most mornings, Gramma left to clean houses before we woke up. After breakfast Nia and I washed the dishes and put them in the rack to dry. On TV, people had kitchens with dishwashers and bathrooms with showers, but all we had were sinks and a bathtub. Sometimes I’d go into the bathroom and find Gramma on her knees, washing clothes in the tub. There’d once been washing machines in the basement of our building, but they’d been broken so often, the city took them out.
    Outside, Terrell and Lightbulb were waiting for me in the yard. In the spot where Darnell fell, someone had stuck a small wooden cross in the dirt, with candles and bunches of flowers around it. The yellow crime-scene tape lay twisted and trampled on the ground. The three of us stared at the cross without speaking. Then Lightbulb said, “You got that Snickers bar?”
    I gave it to him, and he tore it open while we walked to school. Terrell turned the bill of his cap to the right and stuck in his gold earring. Ahead of us, Nia and herboyfriend, LaRue, waited on the sidewalk. They were in eighth grade. LaRue was slim with light chocolate skin and almond-shaped eyes, as if he had some Asian blood. His thick black hair was long with lots of loose dreadlocks. The bill of his cap was turned to the right and a black bandanna poked out of his back pocket.
    â€œTerrell,” he called. “Com’ere.”
    My best friend practically bounded over. He didn’t have those cool, slow moves yet like the older