Tears of a Tiger by Sharon M. Draper Read Free Book Online Page B

won’t let go.
    What’s your problem, little man?
    Can’t you deal with the basic plan?
    Your mama don’t know
    And your daddy don’t know
    That you got a secret
    And it’s going to blow.
    B.J. Carson
Poetry Homework
December 20
    I pray to the Lord
    Who lives up above
    To send me a lady—
    Someone to love.
    She’s got to be fine,
    Of the beautiful sort,
    And Lord, if You can—
    She’s got to be short.
    She’s got to have class
    And a sweet sort of grade,
    And she’s got to light up
    When she sees my face.
    She’d care about others
    With a little bit of style
    And she’d go to her church
    Every once in a while.
    I know You’re real busy
    So I’m not asking much.
    Just a sweet little lady
    That warms to my touch.
    Gerald Nickelby
Poetry Homework
December 20
    MY teacher said to write
    A poem about some stuff.
    I really don’t like poetry
    And I think I’ve had enough.
    The words are all arranged
    In a funny sort of way
    That you cannot understand
    If you try and try all day.
    There’s poems about the flowers
    And poems about the trees.
    I think that I’d go crazy
    If I tried to write like these.
    She said listen to my music
    But my music makes good sense.
    â€˜Cause rappers speak in street talk
    And are never hard or dense.
    So I’m going to tell my teacher
    That I’m not going to fight it,
    I did my best with poetry
    But I just couldn’t write it.
    Dear Ms. Blackwell,
    I know this is a little late. I thought about what you said in class, but this is all I could come up with in study hall. Do I get points for trying? Have a good Christmas!
    Gerald

Christmas Without Rob
Andy and the Psychologist
    DECEMBER 29
    â€”I’m glad you came back, Andy. I’d like to finish our conversation.
    â€”What conversation? I do all the talkin’. All you do is sit there and look out the window. You know, you really should trim those nose hairs.
    â€”Thanks for the cosmetic advice. Now, what about you? We never really talked about Keisha, or Christmas, or the rest of the school year up to this point. Do you feel ready to get started?
    â€”Yeah, I guess. Let me see…Christmas…Well, Christmas was kinda rough. Me and Rob used to hang out in the malls during the holidays, checkin’ out stuff that cost to much and pretendin’ to be interested in buyin’ it. It was funny—we would walk into one of those stores with alarms and bells and electronic wires on the leather goods—you know the type I mean.
    â€”Yes, I’m with you.
    â€”The salespeople started to follow you around as soon as you hit the door, and they never take their eyes off you, like you gonna steal somethin’ with the Bells of St. Mary’s connected to it. Now, white boys can go in there, and when they say, “Just browsing,” the salespeople leave ‘em alone. Sure, they watch ‘em, but they relax a little and stay behind the counter. But let a black dude walk through the door, and it’s “Security Alert” in the first degree.
    â€”You’re right. I’ve had it happen to me.
    â€”So then we would say, talkin’ real properlike, “My partner and I are interested in purchasing one of your more expensive commodities. Would you be so kind as to allow me to try on this leather coat?” The saleslady, who was always some white lady with too much perfume and too much makeup, would get real nervous and start lookin’ toward the back room, where I guess her boss or some security guy was. (And don’t let all four of us come in together—the old biddy would just about wet her pants!) But she had to let us try it on, ‘cause there was the chance that we really did have $5,000 in our back pockets. After all, we’re drug dealers anyway, right? Isn’t that what they think?
    â€”You know, at this point, I’m supposed to say, “Now Andy, let’s not exaggerate