Fast Life Read Online Free Page A

teacher said you are now getting a D for the class, because apparently some test y’all just took—which I haven’t even seen, by the way—lowered your overall grade. Then, your African-American Studies teacher, Mr. Braxton, said your grade in his class fell twenty percent, and now you are failing! I mean, your grades aren’t the best, and they really never have been. But dammit, Kyra! I don’t know how much I have to stress to you how important it is for you to get good grades. You can’t get into college with these kinds of grades, and don’t think for a second you will be bringing grades like these home once we get to Prince Paul. You need to get yourself together, girl.”
    â€œI got myself together, Mom. College just ain’t for me. I’m not some genius that knows biology and black studies. I’m passin’ all of my other classes, though, right?”
    â€œJust barely! I mean, what are you going to do for the rest of your life, Kyra? Have Makai give you everything on a silver platter? Before you know it, you will be out of high school. You only have two years left. You really need to think about your future.”
    â€œI’m not goin’ to have Kai give me everythin’. I know that much.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do, then? Tell me,” her mother impatiently demanded. To tell the truth, Kyra wasn’t exactly sure what she had planned for her future.
    â€œLook, all I know is that when you hit eighteen, your ass will be at some college somewhere learning something. You understand? Now take these and start packing your things.” Geneva Jones shoved two brown boxes into her daughter’s arms and walked off.
    As expletive after expletive ran through her mind, Kyra tore open her closet doors, revealing row upon row of shoes and clothes. Louis Vuitton, Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Prada, Versace, Rocawear, Baby Phat, Chanel, Apple Bottoms, Azzuré—the list went on and on. Designers that most people only dream about, Kyra had in her closet.
    She squatted down to the floor to fill the second box with her shoes. After clearing out most of them, all stored in their original boxes, she saw that there was only one box left, far back in the shadows of the closet.
    The shoe box was red, old and covered in a thick layer of dust. It was plain and had no designer name on it, but it was more precious to Kyra than any pair of Prada boots. It was where she kept everything she treasured.
    She removed the lid from the old red shoe box and began slowly, piece by piece, sifting through its contents. She came across an old bracelet Makai had given her for their first Valentine’s Day together, some old arts-and-crafts friendship bracelets Natasha and Mercedes had woven for her out of colorful plastic string in seventh grade and pictures.
    There were tons of pictures of her with Mercedes and Natasha: in middle school, at their eighth-grade graduation, at homecoming last year, at Six Flags, at the Navy Pier, all over the place. She even came across one of Natasha in elementary school. She smiled at her friend’s missing teeth and big smile.
    She continued to flip through the collection of photos she had gathered over the years and came across one of Makai. She had been with him since she was in the sixth grade. They had shared six years of love, and he always took care of her. He would do anything for her, and she would do anything for him. Makai was her everything. He was all she knew. He was her first love, her first kiss and the first person to explore her body and all of its forbidden places. He was her last love. Kyra wanted to be with him forever, and she was sure he was the man she would marry. She already had their wedding planned down to the smallest detail, and even had the names of their children picked out. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that now with her moving so far away, everything between them would come to an abrupt end. An end