The Kid by Sapphire Read Free Book Online Page A

laying on the bottom of a bunk bed jumps straight up and hits his head BAP! on the top bunk. We must have scared him. Ha! Ha! I laugh. He stares at me so hard I look down at the floor, which is like a big checkerboard, black and white squares. When I look up, the boy is still staring at me.
    “This here is Batty Boy. Everybody in this house got a nickname. You gonna fit right in, J.J. Wait’ll you meet Snowball, that’s my baby.” She turn to the boy still staring at me. “And you, Mr Batty Boy, since you so sick I suggest you lay your behind back down or git up and go to school. And stop looking at J.J. like you ain’t got good sense.” I follow Miss Lillie over to a big dresser against the wall. “You can put your stuff in the bottom drawer, it’s empty since what’s-his-name left, ain’t it, Batty?”
    Batty don’t say nothing, and he ain’t laid back down like Miss Lillie said or stopped staring at me like he hates me or something. I start taking my stuff out the bag.
    “What’s that?” she asks.
    “My shoes.”
    “Well, don’t put them in the drawer.”
    I wasn’t going to. Batty Boy is staring at me putting my socks and underwear away. Why? None of it can fit him. I should hang up my shirt and suit but I don’t want to say anything to Miss Lillie, so I just go ahead and put them in the drawer. Miss Lillie looks at the bag.
    “You got a coat aside from the one you got on?” Miss Lillie asks.
    “I got a down jacket, a pea coat, and another coat like a raincoat at home.”
    “Um hmm.” She looks down at me. “And I know you got Mary J. Blige at home to cook your dinner too, at home . But I’m talking about here now.”
    I look up at her. Why is she talking to me like that?
    “J.J., you just like all the rest come in here, you got to adjust. Whatever you had at home is over and probably never was! I know how you kids make shit up.” She opens my envelope, looks in a folder, and starts reading, “‘Father unknown, mother deceased November 1, 1997, HIV-related illness.’ Uh huh just what I thought, so OK, J.J., relax, you like everybody else here.” She looks in the drawer. “Is that a suit?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Why don’t you hang it up in the closet. You can hang your leather up too. Landlord keep it warm in here. Y’all don’t need to be walking around in no jackets.”
    She looks around the room, at what? Ain’t no toys or furniture except for the dresser and another set of bunk beds in the corner, diagonal-like across from the bunk bed Batty Boy is standing up in looking like a . . . a weird person.
    “Well, let me go heat up some of this good ol’ chicken lo mein, pork fried rice, and egg drop soup.”
    The door close and it’s like some magic or something, all of a sudden Batty Boy can move. He’s coming toward—I—He . . . he’s gonna hit me? For what, this is stu—BAP! I step back, look in his eyes, sleepy stuff, he smells like pee, hatred. Fight back, I tell myself just as he slams his fist into my eye, knocking me down. He jumps on my chest, pinning my arms down with his knees.
    “Who you laughing at!” he screams
    Oh, man, this dude is crazy. “Stop! Stop!”
    “Shut up, you fucking baby! I said shut up, stupid!” He hits me again, and I see orange polka dots, then nothing.
     
     
    “WAKE UP, STUPID!” A gray shadow smell like pee-the-bed is over me shouting, “Faker! Faker!” It grabs me by my shoulders and raises me up and slams my head into the floor. No air. I can’t scream. Rita’s gonna be mad at me. I’m gonna die. Someone hit you, you hit ’em back. I try to raise myself up. My head burns, burns . I try to say something, spit blood on the checkerboard floor. My mother dead. Rita. Please please.
    “You can have it,” I finally say. That must be it, my jacket, he wants my jacket. “You can have my jacket.” My suit? shirt? What he want?
    “Fool I got that jacket! It been mine, asshole!” Blood from my nose in my mouth. My head