Free When I Was the Greatest by Jason Reynolds Page A

from the tear. He sat down on the other chair and pulled up to the card table. Then Noodles reached over and turned the TV off.
    â€œWhat’s that one?” I asked, nodding at the comic.
    â€œSpawn,” he said, all serious. “Black superhero. Don’t take no BS.”
    He dug down in his pocket and wiggled out the mini notepad. He flipped through the sketched pages until he found where he had tucked another folded-up comic book page. He took the tightly folded rectangle from the notepad and set it on the table, and judging by the little bits ofcartoony blue and gray, it looked like Batman, but I wasn’t sure. Then he started to fold up the Spawn comic as a replacement.
    â€œYo, so about Needles,” he reminded me. “Are you crazy? I just don’t think it’s a good look, man. You know how he is.” We plucked the folded Batman square back and forth—a lazy game of table football.
    â€œHe’ll be fine, Nood. He’s not dumb. The syndrome don’t mean he’s nuts. Just different, but not really even that much different.” I couldn’t figure out a better way to explain it.
    Noodles put one hand on top of his head. He scratched it only when he was about to speak.
    â€œI guess you’re right.” He dug his fingers into his scalp and conceded. “And it is a big deal. A MoMo party.” His turn to pluck.
    â€œRight. It’ll be good for him too,” I said, still trying to justify Needles coming with us. But I really did believe that he’d be fine and that it was no big deal. Needles had his yarn, so he won’t be shouting nothing, and even if he did, the music would be so loud, no one would even care. Not to mention, Needles is such a shy dude, I figured he’d most likely find a corner to sit in and knit while Noodles and I scope the scene.
    â€œYeah, maybe you right.”
    â€œNeedles might find him a pretty lady. Who knows?”
    â€œTo do what with, knit?”
    â€œTo knit for. And to kick raps about!”
    We both laughed.
    â€œSo we in?”
    Noodles nodded while still scratching his head. “Yeah, we in.”
    The fridge buzzed like there was a beehive in the freezer. And something was clicking. Not sure what. Then there was a bunch of horn honking coming from right in front of the house. Noodles and I got up to see what the fuss was, but before we could get to the window, Ms. Janice came dashing from the back, tugging at her shirt and buttoning her skintight pants. She carried a purse in one hand and an overnight duffel bag in the other.
    â€œAight, Roland, I’m off to work,” she said, scrambling around. She looked good but not good for a young woman, if that makes sense. “See y’all tomorrow.”
    Noodles didn’t say nothing.
    â€œBye, Ms. Janice,” I said to make it less awkward.
    Her heels clicked on the wooden hall floor, out the door, and down the steps.
    Me and Noodles watched out the window as she ran down the stoop, passed Needles, and into the black cab. She didn’t even acknowledge him. I didn’t say nothing. I never asked what work she was going to do because it was none of my business, and honestly, whatever it was, Noodles didn’t seem like he liked it, which means he probably wouldn’t want to talk about it.
    Once the cab pulled off, we went back downstairs.
    â€œYo, Needles,” Noodles said in his usual gruff tone as soon as we got to the stoop, “you partying with us or what?”
    Good enough, I thought. Actually, I was pretty psychedbecause since Noodles asked, that meant he was now totally into the whole idea.
    Needles smiled, and ticked a little, his left arm jerking just enough for the yarn to slip off the needle. “Sure, guys, I’m down”—he paused, then smiled and continued—“like the ground, from here to downtown.” Then he let out an “Ohhhhhhhh!” He was his own biggest fan.
    I felt good. I