Free Criminal by Terra Elan McVoy Page A

bodies close.
    â€œDee, I—”
    â€œDo not. Call me. Again. You understand? And don’t think of saying anything to anyone else. You fucked it up. You fucked everything up. Now leave me alone, keep your mouth shut, and just don’t fuck it up even more.”
    â€œDon’t, Dee, please. I swear, I’m sorry—”
    But then he was gone.

I WOKE UP WITH MY CLOTHES STILL ON, THE LIGHT BY MY bedside burning. My phone was still in my hand, pressed up under my stomach. I’d fallen asleep hoping Dee would call back, tell me how sorry he was, but it never rang and everything was blank. Dee was gone. I didn’t know where, and I didn’t know when he was coming back. How long it would take him to cool off this time. It was morning, early. Seven thirty. I tiptoed to my door and opened it a crack, looking down the hall to Cherry’s room. But the door was wide open and no one was inside. She and Bo still bingeing, I guess. But it wasn’t going to be long before she needed money again. I wondered, now that I was eighteen, if I’d be as valuable to her as before.
    I showered quickly and got ready for work, where I had tobe at eleven. Plenty of time to talk to Bird, get it all worked out. After what Dee said last night—even if he didn’t really mean it—I needed her now even more than ever. I had to have someone around me who could at least partly understand, who could help me get through without him for a while.
    Outside, it was warm and muggy, so sweat beaded immediately on my lip as I walked down to Bird’s, stood on her step. I listened to the sounds of the TV inside, trying to get the nerve to knock. I was going to tell her everything. Everything. But I couldn’t be sure if she was alone in there right now or not. Kenyetta lived close enough to walk over, and so did Bird’s cousin, along with several other folks Bird did regular sewing jobs for. Anybody else could be in there, even this early, and I didn’t want company.
    The final thing that made me knock was thinking if someone else was here, maybe it would keep Bird from getting really angry.
    Her face in the little window of the front door clouded as soon as she pulled back the curtain and saw me. She shook her head and tried to say something.
    â€œBird, please,” I said, loud. “I need to talk to you.”
    She looked into the room behind her and said something else. Then she faced me and shook her head again.
    â€œBird, I really need to talk. About everything. The truth, I swear.”
    She dropped the curtain down. Another wait, and finally the front door came open. But it wasn’t Bird. It was Kenyetta. She exploded out of the house, into my face, pushing me back down the steps before I even knew what was happening. “Oh, no you don’t!” she yelled, her long, hard nails scraping against my shoulders and chest as she shoved. “Oh no-ho, you don’t. Bird got too good a soul to call the police on your sorry ass this minute, but I don’t got no trouble doing just that. She don’t want to hear nothing you got to say anymore now, you hear me?” I was stepping back, but she kept coming at me, finger pointing. “You so stupid, telling her ain’t nothing else going to happen, thinking the police will just come take a glance at her car and then leave her alone like they’s nothing else. Like they won’t slap her with charges if they find one scrap of anything connected to that boy. Like this ain’t the beginning of just a whole world of trouble. They could take her baby, bitch. You ever think about that? They could ask Meelee’s daddy, did he give up his custody legal. It happened to my cousin. Bird could be in court for the rest of her life. She won’t say it—she too good—but I can, and I say you the most low-down, selfish, no-good whore I ever seen. You get out of here and don’t you never let me see your face. Not in