Coldhearted & Crazy Read Online Free Page A

The final class for the semester had concluded. Rambunctious and excited student after student poured out the doors of the school building like it was on fire and they had on gasoline attire. The joy of no more class until fall was on their minds, but the true source of their merriment was the anticipation that’d been growing all day, really all year long. Kenya and Shannon, constant adversaries who argued day after day, were about to battle and the shit was about to be on. They were going to fight on the basketball court after school. Everyone knew about it, even the teachers. But they didn’t give a shit; their so-called tour of duty was finally over, so to hell with the students and their madness!
    â€œLet them kill each other,” London overheard one of the teachers snarl while she drank her coffee. “Their parents are raising little animals so this is the type of behavior I expect.”
    Walking past, London, who was ear hustling, couldn’t help herself and jumped into the otherwise private conversation. “Wow, you’re supposed to be adults, teachers no less. We should be looking to you for guidance. You should be trying to find a way to help us end this black-on-black crime instead of turning a deaf ear.” London was in rare form as she waited for a sign of remorse from the teacher. “Somebody should report y’all!”
    â€œWell, Li’l Miss Wannabe Harriet Tubman and Oprah rolled into one,” the younger of the teachers smugly responded to the teen. “Instead of you being all up in here giving us a black history lesson, don’t you think you should be out on that basketball court trying to stop your sister from getting her pretty little teeth stumped out her mouth?” The teacher, not trying to defend her initial proclamation, was rolling her head around and snapping her fingers, just like she was London’s equal. “You’re in here judging us like your parents weren’t out in the streets back in the day destroying the minds of the youth! Girl, bye! We all know the story of your people!”
    Hearing her sarcastic statement about her deceased parents and Kenya’s impending battle swiftly snatched London back into reality of what was really about to take place. It was true. While she was preoccupied inside being a one-woman martyr for humanity, the here and now was taking place just yards away. She had to get off her soapbox and get outside fast. That no-good, “always got something ugly to say about folk” Shannon had been running off at the mouth all day long about how she was gonna jump on Kenya when school was out. Well, seeing how the last bell had rung over ten minutes prior, London knew time was ticking. “I hate violence, but there’s no way I’m not gonna have my sister’s back,” London said out loud as she ran down the deserted hallway, bolting out of the school’s double doors. Immediately eyeing the crowd gathering, swarming around like flies on a pile of shit on the basketball court, London couldn’t believe how many people were actually cheering, happy to see two females try to beat one another down. Why can’t Kenya stay out of trouble for once? she thought, quickly approaching the middle of all the commotion in the field. It seems like Gran is right. Her temper is gonna get her in big trouble one day!
    â€œFake ass!” Shannon brazenly taunted, feeling as if the crowd was backing her up. With her hands on her hips, she was front and center of the small mob surrounded by her so-called clique, which consisted of three ghetto-painted-face females who also took the bus from the projects every day to get to school. However, that didn’t mean much of nothing to Kenya at all. Matter of fact, the only thing it really meant was they weren’t just hood rats; they were low-budget project rats. To Kenya it didn’t matter much if you were rich, poor, black, or white, old, young,