Free Miracle's Boys by Jacqueline Woodson

his lunch break. Sometimes he went to their house. Girls acted like he was God or something when they learned he was raising me and Newcharlie. St. Ty’ree.
    â€œYo, T!” I yelled. “You gonna watch the movie?”
    I heard Ty’ree telling the girl to hold on. “You go ahead,” he called to me. I heard him close the door to his room.
    I sat there wishing Smitty and PJ were around even if Smitty was nosy. I hadn’t changed like Ty’ree said. I just didn’t want to answer a whole lot of questions. “Mama,” I whispered, “I’m still me. I’m still Lafayette.”
    Me and Mama used to sit watching movies till late. We’d usually get funny ones and sit there cracking up over the stupidest thing. I rubbed my hand over the couch cushion. Mama’d sit right there. And she’d laugh and laugh.
    This movie was about a guy who wakes up one morning and can’t tell any lies. He’d been lying to everyone, including his little son, for a long time. But this one day, every time he opened his mouth, the truth came out and he found himself saying stuff he hadn’t meant to say. It was supposed to be a comedy, but it wasn’t that funny. I ate my chicken and watched the movie, wondering what it would mean if the whole world woke up having to tell the truth. Maybe then I would have known a long time ago about Ty’ree being at that lake with my daddy.
    It was one of those movies you can figure out the end of by the time you get to the middle. I watched it a little more than halfway through, then washed my plate, changed into a T-shirt and shorts, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Ty’ree was still on the phone. It was a little bit after eleven thirty. I fell asleep listening for Newcharlie’s footsteps on the stairs.
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    IT WAS THE STUPID DOG THAT KEPT WAKING ME up. First the barking that wasn’t really there. Three times I heard it. And each time I sat straight up in bed. Then nothing. Not even a whimper. But each time I turned over and started falling asleep again, the barking started up. Then, when I was almost asleep, I heard a car screech and slam into something. Something soft and solid.
    â€œNo!” I sat straight up again and blinked. The room was dark. “Uh-uh,” I whispered. It had been a reddish dog, with long hair and dark, sad eyes. It kept trying to bark, but no sound came out. I swallowed. The dog had its head on Newcharlie’s—no, on Charlie’s lap.
    I pulled the covers up over me and lay down again. My eyes felt heavy and dry. But when I closed them, it wasn’t sleep that came to me but Charlie. Charlie with his face raised up toward the sky howling, screaming to nobody, Please, God, don’t let it die.

THIRTEEN
    â€œLAFAYETTE.”
    The dog was gone and Charlie was gone and I was at that stream near Aunt Cecile’s house again. It was pretty out, the sun cutting its way around the leaves and dancing up off the water. I had a big trout on the end of my line, and it was fighting hard. Every time it came up, I saw the colors dancing off its scales. It had an angry mouth and devil eyes. But that whole head would be gone soon, and I’d be picking my teeth with its bones.
    â€œLafayette, wake up.”
    Then the trout was talking, calling my name and shaking me. Then it was disappearing downstream. Then the stream was gone. But the fish was still calling my name.
    â€œLafayette.”
    I opened my eyes to see Ty‘ree standing above me. The room was almost dark. There was just the tiniest bit of light in it, like maybe it was five in the morning or earlier. I rubbed my eyes and tried to turn away from Ty’ree, but he shook me again.
    â€œThey got Charlie,” he whispered.
    â€œThe dog got him?”
    â€œLafayette,” Ty‘ree said, his voice just a little bit louder than before. “C’mon and wake up. The police got him. We have to go down to the