The King Lords across the street bust out laughing. DeVante coughs into his fist like he wants to laugh too. Seven and I look at everything but Daddy.
“Oh, y’all wanna act like y’all don’t hear me? Answer me when I’m talking to you!”
The King Lords howl with laughter.
“Pops, we just came to play ball,” Seven says.
“I don’t care. All this shit going on, and y’all leave? Get in this truck!”
“Goddamn,” I say under my breath. “Always gotta act a fool.”
“What you say?” he barks.
The King Lords howl louder. I wanna disappear.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nah, it was something. Tell you what, don’t climb the fence. Go round to the entrance. And I bet’ not beat y’all there.”
He drives off.
Shit.
I grab my ball, and Seven and I haul ass across the park. The last time I ran this fast, Coach was making us do suicides. We get to the entrance as Daddy pulls up. I climb in the back of the truck, and Seven’s dumb butt gets in the passenger seat.
Daddy drives off. “Done lost y’all minds,” he says. “People rioting, damn near calling the National Guard around here, and y’all wanna play ball.”
“Why you have to embarrass us like that?” Seven snaps.
I’m so glad I’m in the backseat. Daddy turns toward Seven, not even looking at the road, and growls, “You ain’t too old.”
Seven stares ahead. Steam is just about coming off him.
Daddy looks at the road again. “Got some goddamn nerve talking to me like that ’cause some King Lords were laughing at you. What, you Kinging now?”
Seven doesn’t respond.
“I’m talking to you, boy!”
“No, sir,” he bites out.
“So why you care what they think? You wanna be a man so damn bad, but men don’t care what nobody thinks.”
He pulls into our driveway. Not even halfway up the walkway I see Momma through the screen on the door in her nightgown, her arms folded and her bare foot tapping.
“Get in this house!” she shouts.
She paces the living room as we come in. The question isn’t if she’ll explode but when.
Seven and I sink onto her good sofa.
“Where were y’all?” she asks. “And you better not lie.”
“The basketball court,” I mumble, staring at my J’s.
Momma leans down close to me and puts her hand to her ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear you good.”
“Speak up, girl,” Daddy says.
“The basketball court,” I repeat louder.
“The basketball court.” Momma straightens up and laughs. “She said the basketball court.” Her laughter stops, and her voice gets louder with each word. “I’m walking around here, worried out my mind, and y’all at the damn basketball court!”
Somebody giggles in the hallway.
“Sekani, go to your room!” Momma says without looking that way. His feet thump hurriedly down the hall.
“I hollered and told y’all we were leaving,” I say.
“Oh, she hollered,” Daddy mocks. “Did you hear anybody holler, baby? ’Cause I didn’t.”
Momma sucks her teeth. “Neither did I. She can wake us up to ask for some money, but she can’t wake us up to tell us she’s going in a war zone.”
“It’s my fault,” Seven says. “I wanted to get her out the house and do something normal.”
“Baby, there’s no such thing as normal right now!” says Momma. “You see what’s been happening. And y’all were crazy enough to go out there like that?”
“Dumb enough is more like it,” Daddy adds.
I keep my eyes on my shoes.
“Hand over your phones,” Momma says.
“What?” I shriek. “That’s not fair! I hollered and told y’all—”
“Starr Amara,” she says through her teeth. Since my first name is only one syllable, she has to throw my middle name in there to break it down. “If you don’t hand me that phone, I swear to God.”
I open my mouth, but she goes, “Say something else! I dare you, say something else! I’ll take all them Jordans too!”
This is some bullshit. For real. Daddy watches us; her attack dog, waiting for us to make a wrong move. That’s how they work. Momma does the first round, and if it’s not successful, Daddy goes for the KO. And you never want Daddy to go for the KO.
Seven and I hand her our phones.
“I thought so,” she says, and passes them to Daddy. “Since y’all want ‘normal’ so much, go get your stuff. We’re going to Carlos’s for the day.”
“Nah, not him.” Daddy motions Seven to get up. “He going to the store with me.”
Momma looks at me and jerks her head toward the hall. “Go. I oughta make you take a shower, smelling like outside.” As I’m leaving, she hollers, “And don’t get any skimpy stuff to wear to Carlos’s either!”
Ooh, she gets on my nerves. See, Chris lives down the street from Uncle Carlos. I am glad she didn’t say any more in front of Daddy though.
Brickz meets me at my bedroom door. He jumps up my legs and tries to lick my face. I had about forty shoe boxes stacked in a corner, and he knocked all of them over.
I scratch behind his ears. “Clumsy dog.”