Shortie Like Mine Read Free Page B

Man-Man said, sitting at the table finishing up his grits.
    â€œHe’s the only respectable one ’round here.” Cousin Shake patted my brother on the head. I started to say something but watching Cousin Shake’s pants rise up his butt was better than thinking of a sarcastic comeback.
    I sat down to the table and Cousin Shake began fixing me a bowl of grits as if he were slopping oatmeal in a soup kitchen.
    â€œButter?” he asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSalt?”
    â€œSugar, please.” I was trying to be nice.
    â€œThat’s what wrong witcha now,” he snorted, while sporting the biggest wedgie I’d ever seen. “You too damn sweet.” He sprinkled two teaspoons of sugar over the butter in my grits. “Who ever heard of sugar in grits?”
    â€œYou love me, don’t you, Cousin Shake?”
    â€œCrazy ’bout you.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Now, where is Toi? She going to school if I gotta punch her in the face and make her do it.”
    â€œI hear you, Cousin Shake!” Toi yelled as she dragged herself to the bathroom.
    â€œCousin Shake love ya, gurl! You know I do.”
    As usual, all I could do was laugh at Cousin Shake. Don’t get me wrong, there were times where I wanted to choke him, but I knew he cared. Just sometimes he cared a little too much.
    â€œHur’ up, Fat Mama. Yo’ lil’ brain need all the education it can get.”
    I didn’t even respond. I finished my grits, mushed Man-Man in the head, and walked out the door.

3
    ... Based on what you see, the boy is mine ...
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    â€”BRANDY & MONICA, “THE BOY IS MINE”
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    I t was the end of September and the weather was different everyday. Some days were sixty and seventy degrees and others ranged anywhere from the low forties to fifties, but today blew it all out the water ... it was a record-breaking eighty-five degrees. Somebody—somewhere—had treated Brick City to a surprise summer day—which meant one thing: everybody and their mama were outside, even at seven-thirty in the morning.
    We were from the southward section of Newark, New Jersey, reppin’ for South 14th Street, where everybody knew everybody and you could always count on somebody being all in your business.
    When I stepped onto the porch, the sun starting baking my face and Ciara’s “Goodies” was blasting from an unknown radio somebody had placed in their front window. I waved at my neighbors, who lived on both sides of me and across the street. Most of them were old people or my friends’ grandparents, who were either sitting on their steps or chillin’ on their porches in plastic lounge chairs, old recliners, or worn love seats. The bus stop was crowded with school kids and parents going to work, and the corner bodega was buzzing with customers coming in and out.
    Toi still hadn’t made her way out the house, but at least she was up and getting dressed. Right about now, my mother was due to come home from work for a few hours before heading to her second job as a part-time bus driver for New Jersey Transit. And if she sees homegirl still in the crib lollygagging around, I know she’s gon’ flip, especially since she hasn’t been pleased with Toi’s nasty attitude lately. The daily speech after school has become a battle of who’s the mother and who’s the child. I feel like “I had you, you didn’t have me” is Toi’s middle name.
    â€œBallin’!!” Shae yelled our clique’s greeting while snapping her fingers in a zigzag motion as she headed up the block to meet me. “What’s really hood, boo?” She smiled, while checking out my gear.
    â€œI see you peepin’ me, homegirl.” I placed my hands on my hips. “I’m just too hot for words.”
    â€œBut hot is what we do best.” She placed her backpack on the ground and began working it out.