I'll Be Down for You: A Bay Area Saga Read Online Free Page B

loved me. He loved me more than anyone had ever loved me in my life and I knew that one day he would come to get me from my foster mother’s house, just like he said he would. I hated it here. Nobody in the house liked me and it was fine because I couldn’t stand their asses either. A whole year had gone by and this was the longest I had stayed in one foster home. From the time I was nine years old, when my mother first left me, until now, I had been in the homes of other people. The only thing good about this house was that it was clean. Myra, my foster mother was one of those wannabe bourgeois ass bitches who thought she was better than everybody else, so had to have the best house on the block. The money she got from fostering me helped with that. It didn’t hurt that the bitch had eighty percent of her rent paid by Section 8. 
    It was exactly eight o’clock AM when I came out the bathroom from getting ready for school, and I knew that Myra’s trick ass would be calling me any minute now because I was already late for my first period class. Not that Myra gave a fuck; she just wanted to know that all of us were gone so that she could get fucked by her friend’s husband. Watching Myra showed me a lot about how dirty bitches could be for dick. A woman would play her own mama for a fine man. He didn’t even have to have shit either. All the nigga needed to be was claimed by another woman and that was enough to go on. That stick drew hoes in like fuckin’ moths to a flame. I grew up swearing that niggas around the world had to be laughing at how dumb they had hoes behind their asses. I vowed that I would never be that female. Hell no.
    And just like I thought, when I came out the bathroom, Myra’s desperate ass was standing right at the door with a pair of shorts up her ass and a too-tight ass graphic tee shirt. I wanted to tell her to pull her damn shorts down before she ended asking one of us to run inside Kaiser for another Monistat prescription, but I just smiled at her.
    “You got two more years of school and you insist on being late every morning,” she spat, sarcastically. “I’m sure they mark your ass down for that in grades, don’t they?”
    Bitch! Like you care!
    “No idea,” I responded with my back to her, already headed down the hall and to the front door.
    “Your smart ass mouth is gonna get you busted in it.”
    I want you to try it, hoe . We’ll see just how quick you would be about lifting your hand to me again .
    “You have a good day, Myra.”
    Maaan ! I wanted to yell out so badly, “ Be sure to tell Denise’s husband I said hi! ” Of course I didn’t though because she would probably bring all my shit and sit it outside the classroom—the classroom that I wasn’t going to—before the end of the day.
    When I left the duplex, I headed down the driveway, and past Myra’s shiny black, newer model Lexus LS, that she made sure to park on the street whenever she was due for her unit’s inspection. When I was at the end, I looked back to make sure Myra was nowhere around, and walked left to the instead of the right…which would’ve been my path to school. I had already decided the minute I woke up that I wasn’t fuckin’ with school today. When I got far enough down the block, I put on my iPod earbuds and blasted “Soldier” in my ear and set about my way. My head bobbed to the beat as I headed to the bus stop, singing along to the lyrics:
     
    ♫
    We like dem boys that be in them lac's leanin' (Leanin')
    Open their mouth their grill gleamin' (Gleamin')
    Candy paint, keep that whip clean and (Clean and)
    (They always be talkin that country slang, we like)
    They keep that beat that be in the back beatin' (Beatin')
    Eyes be so low from there chiefin (chiefin)
    I love how he keep my body screamin' (Screamin')
    A rude boy that's good to me, with street credi —”
    ♫
     
    I was all into the song when all of a sudden mid-verse, I felt hands wrap around my waist. I spun around and