head. âNo. I donât think they here just for you. I think they here for you and Face.â
âDonât be sayinâ that!â
âWell, thatâs what I think.â
My stomach was balled into a knot that grew tighter by the moment. âFace here?â
âYep. Heâs in our room asleep.â
âWe gotta wake him up!â
I placed my hand on the knob, but before I could twist it, âPOLICE OPEN UP!â blared from the other side.
âSchooly.â My eyes bugged and my breathing was heavy. âWhy they sound so close? Did they knock the door down?!â
âNo! Not this time. Last time I got hit upside the head when the door flew off the hinges. I wasnât gonâ let that happen again, so I opened the door for âem. They standing in the living room.â
âThe living room?!â My stomach bubbled and dropped to my feet. âYou let them in this house and yoâ behind just had me confess?! What, you workinâ witâ five-oh? They gotchu wired or somethinâ?!â I mushed him on the side of his head and an ever-ready stream of pee split in two and zipped down both of my legs. I squeezed my inner thighs to hold back what I could. But, I knew at any moment that Schooly and I would both be standing in a puddle of piss.
I placed my palms on the sides of my temples and squeezed.
Think . . . think... think...
When I couldnât get a thought through I looked around my room from the faded white walls covered with smeared fingerprints and hip-hop posters, to my twin-sized bed, my wicker throne chair, the single dresser witâ the lopsided drawers and the clothes bursting from the top.
There was nowhere to hide in here.
The closet.
No. Queenie said donât ever hide in the closet. Pigs always look for you there.
The window.
Weâre on the third floor. I could jump.
I ran over to the window. There was no way I could get through the black iron security bars and even if I could, the cops had the courtyard blocked and their blaring blue lights lit up the morning sky.
âI canât go to jail!â Tears filled my eyes and I felt like taking my fist and pounding Schooly in his slow head with it. I promise you, even though he went to a special school, I never believed he was all-the-way retarded, until now. âUgggggggggg! What the heck is wrong with you?! You not stupid. You a lil slow, but you not stupid. You donât open no door for no freakinâ cops. Whyyyyyyyy would you do that?!â
âOPEN UP! AND COME OUT WITCHA HANDS UP!â The police hammered against my bedroom door and I knew from the last time they rammed the front door down and dragged Daddy out, that it was only a matter of seconds before theyâd be doing the same thing to me.
Before I could decide what to do, âFREEZE! GET ON THE FLOOR AND PUT YOUR ARMS WHERE WE CAN SEE âEM!â filled the room and the familiar sounds of shufflinâ police boots muddied the air. Me and Schooly both hit the deck. I held both of my arms out. And Schooly did his best.
One of the officers walked over and stared down at us. âGet up! And turn around. Slowly.â
We did. And faced a room full of at least ten cops in dark blue uniforms and guns drawn. âPut your guns away,â the lead officer demanded.
They retreated and I wondered if they was about to handcuff me. Instead, the lead officer gripped me by the forearm and dragged me into the living room. Another cop dragged Schooly out behind me.
The cop who gripped me up curled his upper lip in disgust and spat, âLittle girl, where is the derelict and the pimp at?â And he said that like derelicts and pimps was a problem for him.
I didnât answer, âcause I didnât have to. I swear I could practically hear Schoolyâs thoughts, and when I heard him pull in a gulp of air, I whipped my head toward him and said, tight-lipped, âYou bet not say
Lightnin' Hopkins: His Life, Blues