Free Drive-By by Lynne Ewing Page A

ponytail flying.
    I didn’t want her to see Jimmy like that.
    I grabbed her and carried her to the library steps. She dug her face into my shoulder and sobbed. She had seen too much.
    I went back and stood over Jimmy. I cried, too.
    Things don’t always make sense. Animals don’t kill other animals for fun. So why do people kill each other? All Jimmy ever did was make people laugh.
    When you’re little and something like this happens, you always wake up. It’s a nightmare and your mom is sitting on the edge of your bed. NowI felt like someone had pushed me into a nightmare while I was wide awake.
    Two police cars pulled up without sirens. The cars stopped near Jimmy. The headlights shone over him.
    The cops walked quietly and whispered like ghosts. They were afraid gangbangers might hear and come check things out and then go kill someone else in revenge.
    A huge man with hands bigger than basketballs came over and stood next to me.
    “I’m Detective Howard,” he said. “Do you know the boy who was killed?”
    I nodded. “My brother.”
    “I’m sorry, son,” he said, and squatted next to me.
    He wrote down information about Jimmy and about me in a small notebook, all the time talking in a low, sad voice.
    “I think the shooting might have been in revenge for a shooting last week a few blocks away,” he said. “Do you know what gang Jimmy belonged to?”
    “Jimmy was no gangbanger,” I said.
    Jimmy always told me there were only twokinds of gangbangers: those who were dead and those who were going to die. Joining a gang didn’t make sense to Jimmy, so I knew he wouldn’t do it.
    “Jimmy’s been jacking people for their money and rolling with some dope-dealing killers,” Detective Howard said.
    “That’s not true,” I said. “Jimmy wasn’t involved in the gang thing.”
    Jimmy was innocent. Everyone knows the guys doing the shooting want to kill gang members, but sometimes they settle for killing someone who lives in the gang’s neighborhood.
    “You know Lamar Callas or Ice Breaker Joe?”
    “Everyone does,” I said.
    “Jimmy was their ace man.”
    “You’re wrong,” I said.
    The detective patted my head. I jerked away. I didn’t want a liar touching me.
    “Can you identify the car?”
    “It was too dark.”
    He handed me his card. “Call me if you think of anything.”
    The ambulance came.
    Mina stayed on the steps and cried.
    I thought I should go to her, but I couldn’t leaveJimmy. The ambulance attendants wrapped him in white cloth and put him in the ambulance.
    “Be careful with him,” I yelled. I don’t think anyone heard me.
    The ambulance doors slammed.
    A fireman washed away the blood. I hadn’t seen the fire truck until then.
    Someone tapped my shoulder.
    “I’ll take you home,” Detective Howard said.
    I went to get Mina.

2
    T hree television cameras watched us at the funeral.
    I could look over and see a reflection of myself in the camera lens. The last thing I wanted to see was the way my face looked at Jimmy’s funeral.
    The local TV stations were helping to raise money for Mom to pay for Jimmy’s funeral. I guess they thought that gave them the right to be in our faces.
    Mom wanted Jimmy to have a proper funeral. Roses and carnations filled the church and made the air too sweet to breathe. Strangers sent Jimmy flowers. Even some famous people did. I wish people had paid that kind of attention to him when he was alive. They would have liked Jimmy. Everyone did. He could make anyone laugh.
    I watched Mom. I didn’t think she’d ever smile again. I knew I wouldn’t.
    After the funeral neighbors came to our house. They brought Jell-O salads and cold fried chicken and tried to make Mom feel better.
    Zev brought his chess set. He’s always reading or playing chess. I don’t think he had even thrown a baseball since his family came to the United States from Russia.
    “You want to learn how to play chess?” he asked.
    “No,” I said.
    Mom always tried to make me