Free Miracle's Boys by Jacqueline Woodson Page B

his shoulders. But I just stood there, biting my lip and looking into his one good eye. When someone hurts you, Charlie said to me once, you just hold on. Hold on until the pain goes away. We were little then, and a kid from school had punched me in the eye for accidentally stepping on his toe. I hadn’t learned how to fight and didn’t want to anyway, so I waited in the school yard until Charlie came out. He’d been playing basketball with some other guys in the gym, so when he finally came out of the school building, the school yard was empty and my eye had swollen shut. The pain always goes away, Laf. You just hold on, you hear me? He put his arm around me and we walked on home. And slowly the pain went away.
    Ty‘ree touched the swollen eye and Newcharlie jerked back and frowned. Then Ty’ree touched his lip, real gentle, and Newcharlie let him.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Ty’ree whispered.
    You just hold on, Charlie. The pain always goes away.
    Ty‘ree kept telling Newcharlie it was gonna be okay. It felt like the moment had frozen, like we were all stuck that way—me standing a little bit away from them, Ty’ree looking like he wanted to hug Newcharlie but was scared to and Newcharlie doing everything he could not to cry.
    â€œI ain’t do nothing, T,” Newcharlie whispered, his words coming out slow and muffled because of his lip. “I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know nothing about it. I swear I didn’t steal that car.”
    â€œWhat car?” Ty’ree asked. “What happened, Charlie?”
    I took a step closer to hear him better, and just as I did, a policeman came over to us.
    â€œHe yours?” he asked Ty’ree. He was a tall black guy with glasses. The pin above his badge said “Joseph.” I looked from his pin to his face.
    â€œMy brother,” Ty‘ree said, standing up. “I’m the legal guardian. Ty’ree Bailey.” He took some papers from his pocket and handed them to the cop. The papers were from the state, saying that Ty’ree had custody of me and Newcharlie. I’d seen them a couple of times before.
    The cop read them slowly, nodding as he did. “He was in a stolen car,” he said, not looking up from the papers. “Him and another guy. Mr. Bailey here wasn’t driving.” He looked at Ty’ree and frowned. “They got the guy who was driving in a holding pen back there. Broke his parole. So did your brother.”
    I swallowed and looked down at my sneakers, trying not to think about Newcharlie going to jail and me going to Aunt Cecile’s.
    â€œHe said he ain’t know about the car,” I whispered.
    Ty’ree and Officer Joseph looked at me.
    â€œMy brother say he ain’t—he didn’t steal the car,” I said.
    â€œNo, he didn’t.” Officer Joseph handed the papers back to Ty’ree. “He got banged up pretty bad though. I’ll let him tell you about that.”
    Newcharlie was crying softly in the corner.
    â€œIs that what happened to his face?” Ty’ree asked. The muscles in his jaw were moving back and forth the way they did when he was trying to hold his temper.
    Officer Joseph sighed and shook his head. He took a key ring from his pocket and walked over to Newcharlie, undid the handcuffs, and clipped them to his holster.
    â€œHe’ll tell you what happened,” he said, looking at Newcharlie. “Mr. Bailey knows the rules. He knows he breaks his parole, he goes to jail. He knows you go to an initiation, you’re going to have to fight.” He shook his head and turned back to Ty’ree. “Last thing I want to do is send another young brother to jail. I’m going to let you take him home this time, but I don’t want to see him in my precinct again. Not unless he’s working here.”
    Ty’ree nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
    â€œThank you, sir,” I