Free Fire in the Streets by Kekla Magoon Page B

into the laws as two-thirds of a person. Well, they’ve stuck to that story but good.
    I’d rather drop out and be a full-time Panther, but Jolene says I got to keep on. Get good grades and a diploma, go to college, land a good-paying job so I can take care of myself and never have to worry about nothing. “And donate to the Panthers,” I say, and she laughs. “Right on.”
    Plus, she says learning the wrong makes you know right better when you see it. I don’t know about that. I think I already know the wrong; something new is what I’m craving.

    Sam waits for me on the steps outside of school. He doesn’t say anything, so I guess I could just keep going and act like I didn’t see. But I know it’s me he’s waiting for. That’s how it always used to go with us. And my heart still flips when he looks at me, no matter how hard I try to hold it steady.
    â€œCan I walk you home?” he says.
    In spite of everything, I smile. This is how it used to go. This is how it started. “I know my way home,” I say, but quiet. Nicer. Not like I used to, back before I knew he wasn’t just any old guy.
    I expect him to say something back, like a joke. But everything’s changed since then. He just looks up at me with these sad eyes. Says nothing except what’s already written on his face. And I’m not sure how to read it.
    â€œWhy?” I say. “I really don’t want to start over.”
    â€œOkay,” he says. “Please?”
    It’s those sad eyes that break me. It didn’t used to be a hard thing, walking with him, being with him. What we had came pretty easy, once upon a time. I made him work for it, sure, but underneath the game, we fit real easy.
    â€œI guess.” I wave across the yard to Patrice and Emmalee, point at Sam. Putting their heads together, they scamper on without me, leaving us to whatever’s about to happen. Then Emmalee turns back, jumping up and downto get my attention. She brings the fingers of one hand, then the other, to her lips, blows me a stream of melodramatic kisses. Beside her, Patrice shakes her finger at me.
    I roll my eyes—even though they’re too far away to see—and flick my hand. I know without question that the two of them are rushing home to lurk by our building, hiding at the corner till he leaves. Waiting for my report.
    They annoy me sometimes, but I’m lucky to have them. Mostly, Sam’s all by himself. Especially now. I think back, and in the whole time I’ve known him, he’s either been hanging by himself, or with Steve, or with me, or with his family. People like him, but he doesn’t really have a tight bunch of friends. Not ones that go way back. Like Steve did. Like I do. Sam has Bucky, and Leroy and the Panthers now, but it’s not the same thing.
    â€œOkay, come on,” I say, turning toward the gate.
    We walk without speaking, and even though it might look like nothing’s happening, it isn’t how it looks. This is all there is now. Sam’s quiet sadness. My uncertainty of what to say or do. We walk, this long, slow, quiet march, and I feel in the air between us that this is as real as it gets.
    It’s different, other times. He talks, he even laughs. When it’s not just us, when we’re around people and he puts on his act for the world like everything’s okay.
    Like now, when we come around the corner onto Bryantand we pass Rocco and Slim getting out of Slim’s car in front of the corner store.
    â€œSam, my man,” Rocco calls, bounding toward us.
    Sam lifts his chin. “Hey, Rocco. What’s happening?”
    They slap hands and have this guy moment going back and forth, talking about who last had the keys to the storeroom at the health clinic.
    â€œWasn’t me,” Sam says. “Coulda been Bill or Pinky.”
    Rocco shakes his head. “It better not be Pinky. That brother can’t keep a