On the Come Up - Angie Thomas Page 0,95

in the bucket and starts rolling the bucket toward the storage room, but Kayla goes, “Uh-uhn. I know you’re not leaving that floor looking like that.”

“Like what?” he says.

“Like that.” She points to a spot. “There’s dirt on the floor, Trey.”

He squints. “That li’l speck?”

Kayla takes the mop herself. “See, this is why you don’t need to clean.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

“Nope!”

Trey smiles as he sneaks a quick peck to her lips. “But do I need to do that?”

“Hmmm . . .” She taps her chin. “The jury’s still out.”

Trey laughs and kisses her again.

I’m probably not supposed to see this, but I can’t look away. Not on some creeper shit, but I haven’t seen my brother this happy in a while. His eyes are bright, and his smile is so wide when he looks at her that it’s contagious. Not saying he was depressed or anything these past few months, but compared to how he is right now, it’s hard to say he’s been happy.

Kayla looks away from him long enough to spot me in the doorway. “Trey.”

He follows her gaze. The brightness leaves his eyes and his smile disappears. He focuses on mopping again. “What you doing here, Bri?”

I’m suddenly feeling like I shouldn’t be here, and I’ve never felt like that around Trey. He’s been my home when I wasn’t sure what “home” was. “Can we talk?” I ask.

He won’t look up from mopping. Kayla takes his arm to stop him. “Trey,” she says. Firmly.

He looks at her. There’s an unspoken conversation between them—it’s all in their eyes. Trey sighs out of his nose.

Kayla stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “I’m gonna go see if Sal needs help up front.”

She gives me this sad smile as she passes, like somebody does when you’re in mourning.

What’s that about? Aunt Pooh?

Trey mops, and it’s like I’m invisible to him. Even as I inch closer, he doesn’t look up.

“Is something wrong?” I ask. I’m almost afraid to know though. His response could turn my life even more upside down. “Is Jay—”

“Mom,” he corrects, focused on the floor.

I don’t know why that word won’t come easily for me. “Is she okay?”

“She was in her room when I left.”

“Oh.” Messed up that I’m sorta relieved by that. “Any word on Aunt Pooh?”

“They’re still processing her. What you want, Bri?”

What’s that about? I’ve never had to explain why I wanted to see him before. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You haven’t done enough talking today?”

It’s a verbal slap of the worst kind.

He heard the interview. Of the thousands of people who listened in, I never considered that one might be my brother. “Trey, I can explain.”

He sets the mop in the bucket and looks at me. “Oh, so you have an explanation for acting a damn fool on the radio?”

“He pushed my buttons!”

“Didn’t I tell you that you don’t have to respond to everything? Huh, Bri?”

“I’m not gonna just take shit that’s thrown at me!”

“You can speak up for yourself without acting like that!” he says. “First that Instagram video, now this? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I stare at this person who claims to be my brother. It looks like him, but it doesn’t sound like him. “You’re supposed to have my back,” I say, just above a whisper. “Why are you so pissed at me?”

He damn near chucks the mop. “Because I’m busting my ass for you! I drag myself into this job for you! Work long hours to make sure you’re good! And here you go, ruining any shot you have at making any goddamn thing of yourself by showing your ass every chance you get!”

“I’m just trying to save us!”

Somehow my voice is weak and loud all at once.

The fury leaves his eyes, and it’s my big brother staring at me again. “Bri—”

“I’m tired, Trey.” Tears prickle my eyes. “I’m tired of not knowing what’s gonna happen next. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired!”

There’s a shuffling of feet, and two arms wrap around me tightly. I bury my face in Trey’s shirt.

He rubs my back. “Let it out.”

I scream until my throat is raw. I’ve lost Aunt Pooh. I may be losing my mom. I lost my cool so bad that I’ve lost more than I realize. I’m lost. I’m so lost that I’m exhausted from trying to find my way.

Trey leads me over to this little corner in the back of the kitchen that he calls his. Sometimes when I visit, I’ll find him sitting

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