Free Where Do You Stay by Andrea Cheng

she’d tell me what happened. You can’t make a plan without the information first , Mama said. You have to know the facts. Suddenly I have to know.
    “What’d he do?” I ask.
    “Steal,” Uncle James says.
    “Steal what?”
    “DVDs.”
    “What are they going to do to him?” Monte asks.
    “There’s a court date,” Uncle James says.
    Monte is crying. “Damon’s going to jail,” he says.
    Aunt Geneva pulls Monte to her lap and then they’re both crying. “Shhh,” Uncle James says. “They won’t send him to jail for a first offense.” He looks at me. “Jerome, take Monte to bed. Best thing for him to do now is get some rest.”
    I look down at Monte. He’s doing his shaking and shivering, but still we have to know the facts. “How did he get caught?” I ask.
    “The cashier saw him put a DVD under his shirt. Caught it on film.” Uncle James looks at Aunt Geneva. “We’ll talk to Ms. Jackson. Her son’s a lawyer and he can guide us through this process.”
    Monte reaches for my hand like a little boy and we head up the stairs.

24
    Monte comes into my bed like he’s been doing.
    “What if they do put him in jail?” he whispers.
    “They won’t.”
    “He could die in jail,” Monte says.
    “He’s right there on the bed,” I say, “so stop worrying. He wasn’t even in jail, just at the police station. And your dad’s getting help from a lawyer.”
    “How do you know?”
    “That’s what he said.”
    Suddenly Monte sits up. “He’s not all bad,” he says, grabbing my arm. “You know that, Jerome?”
    I nod.
    Monte has his eyes squeezed shut. “I see colors with my eyes closed,” he says. “What about you?”
    I shut my eyes. “I see black and white,” I whisper.
    “I see purple and orange and blue. I see Damon’s purple T-shirt and he’s playing basketball and laughing.”
    I keep looking with my eyes closed. “No colors. Just black and white. Like piano keys.”
    “Are you going to stay here a long time?” Monte asks.
    “You already asked me that.”
    “So you aren’t going anywhere?”
    “Like where?”
    “Like New York. I heard Aunt Melinda saying she’d be happy to have you.”
    “I’m not going to New York,” I say.
    “But if you do, can I come?”
    “I told you, I’m not.”
    Monte won’t give up. “But if you go—”
    “Your mom and dad are adopting me.”
    I said it. I let the words out of my mouth without thinking, like water out of a hose. Monte looks at me in the dark, afraid to move. Finally he grabs my arm. “I’ve wanted you to be my brother for forever.”
    I’m quiet then. Want has nothing to do with it. There’s lots of things that happen that a person doesn’t want. “I want to keep my name the way it is,” I whisper.
    “Because your name is something you’re born with,” Monte says.
    “Yup.”
    “But if you don’t change your name, can you still be adopted?”
    “If you follow the process.”
    “What do you mean, process?”
    “There’s all this paperwork.”
    Monte is squeezing my arm so hard it hurts. “And after the process, you’ll be my real brother, right?”
    “If you stop digging your fingernails into my arm.”
    Monte relaxes his grip and looks down. Then he gets up and unfolds the paper keyboard on the floor. “I’m practicing my scales,” he says, moving his fingers across the keys.
    “Don’t flop your wrists,” I tell him. “A pianist is not a floppy rag doll.”
    He tries again.
    “Better,” I say.
    He finishes the scale and looks up. “If I want, can I change my last name to match yours?”
    I shake my head.
    “Why not?”
    “You just can’t.”
    “But we’ll still be brothers. Just with different last names, right?”
    I never really wanted a brother or a sister. I had David across the street to play with and then I had Mama waiting for me at home.
    “How come you’re not answering, Jerome?”
    I look down at Monte with his fingers still on the paper keyboard. “What did you