Free If I Grow Up by Todd Strasser Page A

lines to get into clubs. It was Friday night, and everyone was trying to get what they’d waited for all week.
    In the yard at Douglass, people were having a homecoming party for a guy named Derek who’d just gotten out of the army. Dance music blared from a sound system rigged to a car battery. Jamar was talking to a girl with a big chest and short brown hair pasted tightly to her skull. In the shadows near one of the trees, LaRue was slow dancing with a skanky-looking girl in high heels with bleached-blond pigtails and a short, low-cut dress. I pretended not to see him and hoped nobody told Nia.
    I was about to go in when I noticed someone on the bench, bent over with his head on his arms. “Terrell?”
    My best friend lifted his head. Even in the dark I could see that one of his eyes was swollen shut and dried blood caked his nose and lips.
    â€œWhat the hell?” I said.
    He made a fist. On the back of his hand were three ugly, reddish cigarette burns. Then he pulled a string of black-and-white beads from under his shirt and gave me the sign of the Disciples. A crooked smile worked its way onto his swollen lips. He was in.
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    FOURTEEN YEARS OLD
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    When President Bush signed the No Child Left Behind Act in January of 2002, he promised that by 2014 the quality of inner-city school education would catch up to that of suburban schools. But by 2007 the gap between black and white eighth graders was worse than ever.
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    â€œStruggle is my address, where pain and crack lives,…Born on the Black list, told I’m below average.”—from “A Dream” by Common
    23 RD PERCENTILE
    â€œI wish we could be alone,” Tanisha whispered in my ear. We were in the hall between classes, pressed against her locker, pressed against each other. We were eighth graders now and sought each other out whenever we could.
    â€œMe too.” I kissed her. She smelled like cocoa butter, and the mixed sensations of pleasure and yearning were enough to make my knees feel weak. But it was nearly impossible for us to be alone. Lately there’d been more and more shooting between the Disciples and the Gangstas. Anyone, not just gangbangers, from Douglass found in Gentry territory was liable to be shot.
    â€œMaybe you could come over after school,” she whispered with closed eyes as I kissed her neck.
    Despite the danger, I was seriously tempted.
    â€œMy momma’ll be at work, and William’s never around.”
    I’d never met her older brother, William, but I knew he was a Gentry Gangsta.
    â€œLet me think about it….” We pressed together,feeling more heat than the friction of our clothes alone could create.
    â€œEnough of that, you two,” someone snapped sharply. It was Ms. Rodriguez, the assistant principal.
    I backed slowly away from Tanisha. Past were the days of jumping when some authority figure gave an order.
    â€œI’m getting tired of telling you two to find some place else for that.” The old white-haired woman focused on me. “DeShawn, come to my office.”
    â€œSorry, Ms. Rodriguez,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”
    â€œThis is about something else,” she said.
    In her office I sat in an old wooden chair. Ms. Rodriguez pulled a pink sweater over her shoulders. “Now you know why I spend so much time in the halls,” she said with a shiver while she searched through a pile of folders on her desk. “Been years since any heat came out of that radiator. Here we are.” She opened a folder. “Mr. Brand left instructions for you to take the entrance exam for Hewlett Academy.”
    â€œWhat happened to him, anyway?” I asked. It was November, and I had not yet seen him around school.
    â€œHe took a job at one of the suburban schools,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “Too bad. He was one of our better teachers.”
    While the assistant principal studied the folder, I watched through the