Free The Boy in the Black Suit by Jason Reynolds Page B

same thing.
    Nancy’s sister was called up to the podium after the pastor was done with his words. She looked about sixteen and I could tell she was cute, even though black lines streamed down her face from all of the tears mixing with her makeup. Her hair was cut short in a little bush, almost perfectly round, and she stood at the microphone holding a piece of paper, shaking with nerves. Her name was Alicia.
    â€œThis”—she started, her voice vibrating like her hands—“this is a poem for Nancy.”
    Alicia put one hand on her chest and took a deep breath.
    â€œNancy
    Remember when we would run
    and see who could beat the moon.
    Remember when we laughed
    and cracked jokes all afternoon.
    Remember when Ma made a cake
    and we fought over the spoon.
    Remember on your birthday
    when I popped the best balloon.
    Remember staying up all night
    singing our favorite tune.”
    She paused and said, “‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,’ by Lauryn Hill.”
    Her mother, now sitting up straight, nodded. Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could tell her mom was sort of smiling.
    Alicia went back to the poem.
    â€œRemember staying up all night
    singing our favorite tune.
    Remember snowball fights in January
    and water fights in June.
    I never thought—”
    She stopped again, her hands trembling even more, her throat swallowing what we all knew was a lump of emotions.
    Alicia looked up at the crowd, then at her mother, then at her sister Nancy, lying there peacefully. I could feel the churning in my stomach. That feeling. The same one I had the day before at Mr. Jameson’s funeral.
    Alicia continued. “I never thought you’d be gone so soon.” Her voice gave way to the tears, as they rolled down her chocolatecheeks. She folded the paper into a small square and slipped it into the casket on her way back to her seat, where her mother wrapped her up in all the love she had left. Like the preacher at my mother’s service told me, no one could feel the pain like I could. And I knew watching Alicia and Ms. Knight that the same went for them—no one in that church was hurting as much as they were. And again, I was satisfied.
    Mr. Ray started walking toward me, signaling for me to follow. Benny, Robbie, and the other two guys fell in line behind us as we started down the aisle toward the casket. The pastor was giving his final prayer, and the young girl who sang the first song had come back to the microphone to close the funeral with another selection, this time something upbeat that people could sing along to: “This Little Light of Mine.”
    I took my place between Benny and Robbie again. But now I wasn’t as nervous as we all grabbed the metal bar. I turned my head toward where Ms. Knight and her daughter were sitting. They were both singing and wiping a last few tears from their faces. I caught eyes with the both of them and smiled. Ms. Knight smiled back. Then, Robbie elbowed me in the arm. It was time to go. On Mr. Ray’s cue, we lifted and turned, and slowly marched Nancy with all her friends and family behind us singing, into the sunlight. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Chapter 5
    WHEN IT RAINS . . .
    â€œâ€™S UP MAN? ” C HRIS WAS WALKING up the block toward me, his giant umbrella now being used as a cane to put some extra cool in his bop. It looked ridiculous, him walking like some potbelly pimp. Like Robbie Ray. Chris’s backpack, loose, stuffed with books, sagged down to his butt.
    â€œChillin’,” I said. “Just seeing what you was up to.”
    â€œYeah, but ain’t something wrong? Because you was blowing me up like something was wrong.”
    â€œMan, I ain’t blow you up!”
    â€œYou was blowing me up, Matt!” Chris pulled out his cell phone and counted out all the text messages I sent him. Nine. I was blowing him up. But it was because I was feeling weird. I left the