Free Of Blood and Sorrow by Valerie Wilson Wesley

Surprisingly, I got two of his friends, one home sick, the other on punishment. No, they hadn’t seen him since yesterday when they played ball in the park. No, they didn’t know where he’d gone. Yes, they would call me if they heard from him. Did you check his webpage? one asked.
    Webpage?
    I turned on Jamal’s computer and went to his browser to check the sites he’d visited. MySpace.com was at the top of the list. I certainly knew what MySpace was but had never visited it; figured it was for kids and politicians trying to get a vote. Jamal’s name came up on the MySpace page requesting his password. “Remember Me” had not been checked.
    Password?
    I tried his name spelled backward, then
DeWayne, Jake, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Beyoncé, Frosty,
his beloved deceased guinea pig. I tried
50 Cent, Cent 50, Beyoncé
spelled backward, then random words—
thug, cash, popcorn shrimp.
Then, considering all the shit he’d been through in the past year, the boy he had loved more than anyone else and whose death had begun his relationship with violent death—his half brother Hakim, shot down in front of him ten years ago.
    Bingo.
    A photo of Jamal standing tall and handsome holding a basketball popped up. Music boomed, some rap song I couldn’t understand, and the words “Tell Me About Yourself” appeared on the right side of the page. He’d answered every damn question.
             
Name
—
Jamal
Birth Date
—
October 3
Place
—
The Little Orange, not to be confused with the Big Apple
Eye Color
—
Black
Race
—
African American
Preference
—
Straight
Preference in Partners
—
Sexy women who like to do it
             
    What?!
             
Looking for
—
Joy and happiness
Fear
—
Death by gun
Favorite Color
—
Blue
Favorite Restaurant
—
Friday’s
             
    What happened to Red Lobster?
             
Favorite Sport
—
Lifting weights, capoeira
             
    I scrolled down his webpage, stunned by how much he had revealed about himself. I searched for recent comments. My mouth dropped open when I read them:

    NEED TO GET DA FUCK OUTTA HERE. FAST .

Can a pretty woman slide through here and

pick me up? No strings attached.

    No strings attached! What the hell did he mean by that? Had he lost his mind putting something like that on the Web? Didn’t he know a site like this was Pedophile Central for any horny pervert who wanted to take a peek? He might think he was all big and bad with his new muscles and martial arts skills, but they wouldn’t count for shit against a cloth filled with chloroform. Any ole crazy person with his name and ZIP code could look him up.
    And one ole crazy person had. “Aunt Lilah” in pretty lime green script had stepped out of the shadows and answered his request.

    Met you today. Friend of your mama’s, but I can keep a secret. I’m out of here late tonight. I need to get out of town for a couple of days. Company sound real good about now. Especially with a fine young thing like you! Give me a call, we’ll set something up.

    Take it easy, girl! Just breathe and take it easy!
I told myself, and that was just what I did for the next five minutes, rocking back and forth in my baby’s chair, inhaling and exhaling until I got hold of myself. The cops had it right. Jamal had been with her. But where was she taking him? Where she wanted to go or where he did? Where was he now?
    I called Jake out of habit, left a hysterical message, then remembered he was at a conference in Toronto. I was about to leave a message on his cell phone, then realized there was absolutely nothing he could do in Canada, so I hung up. I tried DeWayne again; he sure had the right to know what was going on now. No answer. He was bound to be there sooner or later. I knew I’d go crazy if I just sat here staring at that computer. Better to get on the road, figure out what to do on the way down to DeWayne’s. Jamal had a key, and even if his father wasn’t home, he