Free When I Was the Greatest by Jason Reynolds Page B

felt like, somehow, we all were winning.
    Now came the next problem. The party was only three days away, and the trickiest part about it was figuring out what we were going to wear, how we were going to look. I mean, it’s not like we’re girls or nothin’, primping in front of the mirror for hours, but like I said, this was a big deal.
    The issue was, Needles was sixteen, almost seventeen, and Noodles and I was fifteen going on sixteen. But MoMo was twenty going on thirty; his party was going to be jam-packed with a bunch of folks who broke out their best fits to show off. People were probably going to rent cars and spend a few hundred dollars on a slick pair of shoes. Every dude was going to have a haircut so fresh that he was still going to smell like the oil and the spray the barber always puts on your head afterward, to give it that shine and make the waves pop out. It was going to be quite a sight, and we couldn’t be the only three lames in there looking like we still played with blocks.
    First on the agenda: haircuts.
    The next day, Monday, I went to do some work over at Malloy’s early in the morning, wiping down all the boxingequipment, taking out the trash, and doing whatever other little odd jobs he needed me to do, since he wouldn’t let me do it the day before. It usually only took about an hour, and he always gave me twenty dollars for it. Twenty bucks, three times a week, can add up, and I wish I would’ve done a better job at saving some of it, because then I’d be able to at least buy some fresh kicks for the party. But who knew we would end up going to a MoMo party? Plus, I always used some of my cash to help out around the house, just to take some of the load off Doris.
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    I came bopping down the block, swinging a bodega bag. Needles and Noodles were sitting on the stoop, waiting for me. We would just pool all of our money and see how much we had and what we could afford. We knew we wouldn’t have enough for fly outfits, but at least we might be able to get haircuts.
    I dug in the black bag and pulled out a greasy brown paper one. Then I wiggled a golden beef patty out and broke a piece off. I passed the patty to Needles, who cracked off a corner and then passed the rest to his brother.
    â€œHow much you got,” Noodles said, sucking in his breath—the patty was hot!
    â€œI got eleven bucks,” I said. I took my money and held it in my hand like it was a wad. “Here’s eight of it, and the rest of it is in change.” I patted my pocket so they could hear the jingle.
    â€œOkay, cool,” Noodles gave his approval. “You?” He turned and looked at Needles, who was sitting on the secondstep from the top as usual. Needles put the yarn down and wiggled his hand into his left pocket. He pulled out a few dollars.
    â€œHere you go,” Needles said, happily handing it over.
    â€œOne, two, three, four. Four bucks.” Noodles looked disappointed. “That’s it?”
    â€œYeah, that’s it,” Needles said, now looking bummed.
    Noodles was always coming down on Needles, and it was really starting to piss me off.
    â€œMan, how much you got?” I said.
    Noodles looked at me strange.
    â€œI could probably get us a couple of bucks. I just gotta wait for Ma to get back from work,” he said, which meant he had nothing.
    â€œSo you got nothing? Not one dollar? Not a quarter? Not a penny? Even bums got pennies!” I knew this would make him angry, and I didn’t care. I looked up at Needles and he was giggling. That’s all I cared about. “Well, fifteen bucks ain’t gonna be enough for all three of us to get cut,” I said.
    â€œWelp, sorry, Needles.” Noodles looked at his brother and shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œNaw, naw, he can get one. I was just gonna get a shape-up, but I can pass.” My hair was in braids. I knew that I could get away with not having a