God, that had nothing to do with you. Straight up.”
“Being all in his face had nothing to do with me?”
“Hell nah! I didn’t even notice you were on the bus! You got some nerve, Malik. For real. This is such a fuckboy move.”
“Fuckboy?” he says.
“Yes! Here you go with all this talk of feelings and kissing me, but you never once even hinted that you liked me before. But now, because I like somebody else, you suddenly have feelings? Get outta here, bruh. For real.”
Malik’s forehead wrinkles. “Wait. You like Curtis?”
Oh.
Damn.
I like Curtis?
Tires screech. That gray Camaro makes a U-turn. It races back up the street and skids to a stop beside us.
“What the hell?” Malik says.
The door on the driver’s side flies open, and a guy hops out. He grins at us with a mouth full of silver teeth. He’s got a gun in his hand.
It’s the Crown from the Ring.
“Well, well, well,” he says. “Look what we got here.”
I can’t watch him for watching the gun. My heart pounds in my ears.
Malik stretches his arm out in front of me. “We don’t want any problems.”
“I don’t want any either. I just want baby girl here to hand over her shit.”
I don’t know whether to focus on him or his piece. “What?”
He motions his gun toward my chest. “I want that chain.”
Shit. I forgot to tuck it.
“See, your daddy was real disrespectful, walking around with that crown on his chain and calling himself the King of the Garden while rolling with them Disciple bitches,” the Crown says. “So, you gon’ right his wrong and hand that shit over.”
“I can’t—” I’m shaking like I’ve got chills. “It’s my—”
He points his gun at me. “I said hand it over!”
Some people say that your life flashes before your eyes in moments like this. But for me, all the stuff I haven’t done flashes before mine. Making it big, getting out of the Garden, living past sixteen. Going home.
“I . . . I can’t . . .” My teeth chatter. “I can’t give this up.”
“Bitch, did I stutter? Hand that shit over!”
“Man, chill—”
The Crown rams his fist into Malik’s face. Malik hits the ground.
“Malik!” I start for him.
Click click. The gun cocks.
“Please?” I blubber. “Please don’t take it.”
I can’t lose this thing. My mom could’ve pawned it by now and taken care of bills, filled our fridge, but she entrusted it to me. Me. I know she said she wouldn’t get rid of it, but I always figured if things got really hard, we could sell it.
Losing it will be like losing a safety net.
“Oh, look who crying,” the Crown mocks. “What about all that disrespectful shit you talked on your song, huh?”
“It’s just a song!”
“I don’t give a fuck!” He points the gun directly between my eyes. “Now you gon’ make this easy or make it hard?”
Malik groans near my feet. He holds his eye.
I can’t risk his life or mine. Not even to make sure my family is okay.
I straighten up and look the Crown dead in his eyes. I want this coward to look in mine and see no fear.
“The chain,” he says through his teeth.
I lift it from around my neck. The pendant glistens, even in the dark.
The Crown snatches it out of my hands. “That’s what I thought.”
He keeps his eyes on me, and I keep mine on him as he backs up to his car. He doesn’t lower his gun until he’s in his Camaro. He speeds off down the street, taking my family’s safety net with him.
Part Three
New School
Twenty-Two
I almost got killed by a Crown. So I call my aunt, the Garden Disciple.
Soon as she hears “robbed,” she’s on her way.
Malik and I wait on the curb. His eye is starting to bruise and swell. He claims he’s okay, but that’s all he’s said since the Camaro sped off.
I wrap my arms around myself. There’s a tight knot in my stomach that won’t go away. Not sure I want it to. It’s like it’s holding every inch of me together and the moment it comes undone, I’m screwed.
Aunt Pooh’s Cutlass races down the street. It barely stops beside us when she and Scrap hop out. They both have their guns.
“What the hell?” she says. “Who did this shit?”
“That Crown who messed with us at Jimmy’s,” I bite out.
Malik whips his head at me. “Wait, you’ve dealt with him before?”
It sounds like an accusation more than a question.