Free If I Grow Up by Todd Strasser Page B

dirty, bar-covered window as a crusty old bum, who looked like he was wearing threecoats, trudged past lugging a huge plastic bag filled with empty cans. “Now, you understand, DeShawn, that we’re only allowed to submit a certain number of students for that exam. Have you prepared?”
    I shook my head. I’d never gotten around to studying the list of words Mr. Brand had given me.
    Mrs. Rodriguez frowned. “Let’s take a look at your transcript anyway.” She turned to her computer and studied the screen, tapping a bony finger against her lower lip. “You are certainly one of the better students, especially among the boys.”
    â€œMr. Brand said I was reading at grade level,” I said proudly.
    â€œLet’s see your standardized test results.” She typed and a different screen appeared on the computer. Her eyebrows dipped. “City-wide, your test scores are in the twenty-third percentile.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?” I asked, although I could tell by her expression that it wasn’t good.
    â€œCompared to students from all the other schools, you’re in the bottom quarter.”
    The radiator made a faint gurgling sound, as if water was struggling to get through.
    â€œIt’s not your fault, DeShawn,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “Many children get private tutoring or special preparation for these entrance exams. Things we can’t give students here.”
    Secretly, I felt relief. I didn’t want to leave Tanisha and take a bus every day to Beech Hill. And now I didn’thave to feel bad about letting Mr. Brand down, because he could have come back to Washington Carver if he’d really cared.
    Ms. Rodriguez tapped the bottom of the folder against the desk. “All right?” She had other things to do. I got up and started to leave.
    â€œDeShawn?” she said. “One other thing. Your friend Raydale Diggs.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œI believe you call him Lightbulb?”
    It had been so long since I had heard his real name, I’d forgotten it.
    â€œMaybe you could do us a favor,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “He’s one of the brightest children we’ve ever seen here, and we would like him to apply to Hewlett Academy, but he seems reluctant. Perhaps you’d talk to him? You’re a friend, so he might listen to you.”
    DEALER
    Nia had twins—a boy named Xavier and a girl named Jayda—and the population in our apartment increased by three, not two, because LaRue moved in. Gramma gave her bedroom to the new family. Now she slept on the couch, and I slept on the floor on a small mattress that we hid behind the curtains during the day. In no time it felt like those babies took over the whole apartment. The kitchen counter was covered with plastic baby bottles and cans of baby formula, and the garbage can was a heap of stinky Pampers. Hand-washed baby clothes and maternity bras hung in the bathroom. I spent as much time as I could outside.
    Â 
    Terrell and I were hanging around the bench talking to Precious and listening to 50 Cent on Terrell’s boom box. He was wearing his black Disciples colors, his cap turned to the right, and his sleeves rolled up to show off his new tattoos. Precious wore a lot of eye makeup, and her fingernails were long and painted blue. Her tight, white T-shirt said SO MANY BOYZ , SO LITTLE TIME .The material was so thin that you could see the pink bra underneath.
    â€œYour daddy see you dress like that?” Terrell asked.
    Precious’s face hardened. “He ain’t around no more.” When she talked, you saw the stud in her tongue.
    â€œWhat happened?” Terrell asked.
    â€œWhat do you think happened?” she shot back, as if it were obvious. She glanced at the boom box balanced on Terrell’s knees. “Why you got that hunk of junk? Can’t you afford an iPod?”
    â€œWhat’s the point?” Terrell asked, slightly