Maybe You Never Cry Again Read Online Free Page B

think you can’t possibly meet it. You’ll be scared, son. But that’s the way it is. You have to meet all the challenges, big and small. Because how you start is how you finish.” Then she patted my hand and left the room and closed the door behind her.
    I lay in bed that night, tossing and turning. Didn’t get a wink of sleep. In the morning, I got up before everyone else and took a butter knife from the kitchen and went to look for my grandfather’s tools. I took a file and filed it down till it was sharp as a needle, then I found some black electrician’s tape and taped the knife to the inside of my right hand. I went and got my books and used them to cover up the knife in my hand and stepped into the kitchen. My grandmother and mother were there. They turned to look at me.
    â€œI’m going to school,” I said.
    â€œAin’t you hungry?”
    â€œNo.”
    They could see that things were still very wrong. My grandma said, “Beanie, you be a man today, hear?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said, and left the house.
    On my way down the street, I saw Edward—the kid from school, the one who’d told them not to hit me in the face—waiting for me near the bus stop. He looked worried.
    â€œBernie—”
    â€œDon’t say nothin’,” I said, cutting him off. I didn’t want anything from him. “I got no beef with you. But I’m telling you right now: I’m not running with no fucking gang. And I’m going to kill the next motherfucker that comes up on me.” I showed him the shiv, taped to my hand.
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.” And he ran off to tell the others to leave me the hell alone. “Bernie is out, ” he said.
    After school, I went to the park, to play ball, try to improve my game, and the guys who’d beat me up the day before walked right past me, didn’t say nothin’ directly. They sat and watched me play for a while, making fun. But then the ball went off to one side, and I went to get it, and the lead guy got right in my face. “I hear you think you too good for the gang?” he said.
    POW! I hit him smack in the mouth, and again—POW, right quick—a left hook that knocked him down. But suddenly the rest of them were on me—too many to handle—so I threw a few more punches and turned and ran. I was flyin’, movin’ like lightning, and as I reached the sidewalk I almost collided with my big brother, Darryl.
    â€œHey,” he said, grabbing me. “Why you runnin’?”
    And he turned around and saw these five guys coming toward us, and he looked dead at ’em—and they froze the hell up. All five of them. Stopped on a dime. Looked scared. And Darryl said, “You guys fuckin’ with my brother?”
    And the one guy—he was like shakin’—the one guy said, “We—we didn’t know he was your brother, man.”
    â€œHe’s my brother all right. And if you want to fight him, he’ll take you. But he’ll take you one at a time.”
    Man, these guys were nervous. Darryl was known in the neighborhood. Didn’t take shit from no one. He was mean and crazy. Kids called him Karate. Nobody messed with Darryl.
    Now the guys were trying to back down; telling Darryl that we didn’t have to fight; that maybe we should forget the whole thing; and how sorry they was. But I looked at Darryl. I wanted to fight. And he walked us back into the park and I took the leader on, one-on-one. And I’ll tell you: I tore his ass up good.
    â€œRepresent this, motherfucker,” I said. The sumbitch was scared to get up.
    And my brother said, “It’s over, see? If any of you bother my brother again, you better shoot me in the back of the head, because I’m coming for you.”
    Darryl and I left the park and he walked me to the corner. He didn’t say