Free Nobody's Son by Zaria Garrison Page B

my freedom if it wasn’t for you. I owe you, Semaj, and you know that I always pay my debts.”
    The sound of Ellen knocking at the door distracted Semaj momentarily from the conversation. “Yeah, honey, what is it?” he called out.
    â€œDo you want some ice cream? I was just about to fix some for myself.”
    â€œNo, I’m good.”
    Before speaking again he waited until he heard her footsteps return to the kitchen. When he heard the refrigerator door opening he returned to the conversation. “Rip, listen, I appreciate what you want to do, but this is not the way. Wayne James is just not worth it.” Semaj paused and waited for an answer. “Rip, are you there?” He repeated his name several more times, but he knew it was no use. His cousin had already hung up.
    â€œDon’t stop him. Revenge is sweet , ” a voice said. Semaj looked to his left and just like in the movies he could’ve sworn he saw a miniature replica of himself in a red suit with horns and a tail sitting on his shoulder. The little devil spoke again. “Wayne James treated you like crap. All you wanted was to know him. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
    Semaj nodded his head in agreement. “You’re right. He deserves whatever Rip is planning to do to him. Why should I care?”
    â€œHe’s your father. You have to forgive him,” another voice said.
    Semaj looked to his right and saw another tiny version of himself. This one was dressed all in white with a golden halo. For a few moments he wondered if he was freaking out as he watched the two arguing back and forth. The devil pointed out once again how badly Semaj had been treated by his father, while the little angel pleaded with Semaj to turn the other cheek. Finally unable to listen to the debate any longer, Semaj reached up and smacked the little angel off of his shoulder. He watched in silence as he vividly tumbled to the floor and landed with a loud thud. Stepping over him, Semaj opened his bedroom door and returned to the living room.
    â€œHey, Ellen, I’ve changed my mind. I think I will have some ice cream after all.”

Chapter Eight
    Rip gulped down the last swallow of his third Red Bull, then threw the can out of the window of the van. A part of him was afraid of what he was about to do, but another part believed that it was the only thing that he could do.
    For most of his adult life, Rip had lived and breathed crime. Every thought, word, or deed that he committed was the result of trying to get over and find the easiest way to get paid, regardless of the legalities of the activity. The only law or code that he lived by was the code of the streets, and that code dictated that he could not allow Wayne to get away with disrespecting Semaj.
    Rip’s first brush with the law occurred when he was only fourteen years old. He and Semaj had walked to the corner store to buy snacks while on summer vacation. Semaj’s grandparents were considered to be one of the more well-to-do families in the neighborhood, and they always made sure that he had pocket money. Rip, on the other hand, lived with his elderly aunt whose only source of income was welfare, food stamps, and anything she could beg from social services, the community food bank, or her family members.
    The two of them went inside the store, and Semaj picked out a Pepsi from the cooler and a bag of potato chips and a MoonPie off the shelf. Then he went to the counter to pay. Rip followed him and picked up the same items. While the clerk was distracted with ringing up Semaj’s purchases, Rip had shoved all of his items into his backpack, and then he tried to run out of the store. Unfortunately, the store owner’s wife had seen everything, and she used a broom to trip him up just as he reached the front door. He fell headfirst to the ground, and everything he’d stolen went tumbling down with him. It was only petty theft, but the