Split Decision Read Online Free Page B

suck the life outta me. The ones who say, ‘I’m not racist; I have seven African American friends.’” He snorted for emphasis. “If you’re into counting how many bruthas you have as friends, you’re racist like nobody’s business!”
    Cody sighed. To him, it sounded like an old person’s sigh. Like Grandma Martin, whenever she talked about Grandpa Martin passing away, back in 1999. “I’m sorry it’s still out there, Chop,” he said. “The racism. The ignorance.”
    Chop was smiling.
    “I’m serious about this. It really bugs me. What— you don’t believe me?”
    Chop’s smile shrunk only slightly. “Dawg, I’m totally feelin’ you. The maddest I’ve ever seen you get was back in fifth grade. Remember, we were walking to your house when that punk, Eric Hoover, yelled at me through his screen door. He dropped the N-bomb on me.”
    Cody felt his heart rev as he recalled the incident. “Hey, Porter, you know what you are?” Hoover had yelled from behind the relative safety of his door. Then he had said it. The word. Cody had looked at his friend, expecting to see his wide, brown eyes burning with hatred. But he saw only pain. For a moment, Cody thought Chop might even cry. Chop’s head had drooped, as if he didn’t have the strength to hold it erect anymore.
    “Dawg,” Chop said, tugging Cody back to the present, “you were up on the Hoover doorstep in a flash! And I thought you were gonna pull that screen door clean off its hinges. Eric must’ve thought that too, ’cuz he slammed the big wooden door in a big hurry. You know, that’s the only time I’ve ever heard you—as my pops would put it—‘say swears.’ You were ready to get medieval on Mr. Hoover.”
    “I’m not proud of what I said,” Cody said, but he could sense the pride in his voice as he spoke. “That kind of thing just sets me off. Especially when it’s directed at my best friend.”
    “Well, you can try to bust down every door in town, but it’s always gonna be there, you know?”
    “I wish you were wrong about that, Chop. But I’m afraid it’s true. Even people at church say stuff sometimes.”
    Pork Chop arched his eyebrows. “Like?”
    “Like, ‘Your friend Deke Porter seems quite nice. He’s not like some of them .’”
    “For real? Somebody at your church said that?”
    “Yeah, sad but true. Chop, I really am sorry. I’m sorry for every time that someone’s gone racist on you. I’m sorry for the way you’ve been treated. I pray all the time that things will change. That people’s hearts will change. That’s the only way things will ever get better. All the laws and debates and programs in the world can’t really change things. It has to come from the inside, you know? It’s gotta start in people’s hearts.”
    Pork Chop chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I mean, you can’t go bustin’ down every door in town and beating tolerance into people, can you, dawg?”
    Cody forced a laugh. “What makes you think I was going to put a beat-down on Hoover?”
    “Don’t front, little brother. You were bangin’ and yankin’ on that screen door so hard! Besides, I know what happens when you get that certain look in your eye. I saw it in the football huddles, every time we called a jailbreak blitz and you knew you were gonna have a crack at the QB. I bet you had that look when you clocked Andrew Neale last year, didn’t you?”
    “Okay, Chop, that was wrong too. I’ve told you that a million times.”
    “Not in my book.”
    “Well, you’re reading the wrong book then.”
    “Whatever,” Chop said, slumping in his side of the booth. “At least one of us still has a girlfriend.”
    Cody tried to keep his voice from cracking—or going falsetto—as he spoke. “Chop, Robyn Hart is not my girlfriend! Do I need to put it out there on the signboard in front of the school or something?”
    Chop grinned. “If you say so. But you did go to the movies with her last weekend.”
    “That