The Boy in the Black Suit by Reynolds Jason

Author:Reynolds, Jason [Reynolds, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Bullying, Social Issues, Emotions & Feelings, Juvenile Fiction, General, United States, Prejudice & Racism, People & Places, Friendship, Death & Dying
ISBN: 9781442459502
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2015-01-06T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

WIDE OPEN

“WAIT. LET ME GET THIS straight. The girl from Cluck Bucket is your girlfriend ?”

Chris took off his jacket and tossed it on the couch.

“Man, no, she’s not my girlfriend. I just met her, forreal,” I said, even though I couldn’t stop myself from cheesing so hard it hurt. If only Lovey had been around when I was taking my senior pictures.

“Uh-huh,” Chris said, looking at me. “You . . . you . . .” He paused. “You open.” He busted out laughing and pointed at me like a kid. I wanted to tell him to grow up, but I couldn’t front. He was right. I was open. From one conversation, wide open.

But it wasn’t like a regular conversation. It was different. We talked about school, how she was in some special photography program at hers, and loved it, and was hoping to go to college to study photography, and then after college she wanted to just be a full-time camera clicker. But not like a paparazzi. Love said she wanted to be a photojournalist, and tell stories with pictures. I thought that was pretty cool.

I told her that I was finishing up this year too, and that I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go to college. I mean, part of me wanted to get out of New York, go away somewhere different. Maybe Georgia where the weather’s warmer. But another part of me didn’t want to go too far and leave my father alone. I wanted to tell her all that, but I didn’t because I knew it would make her ask questions about my folks, and I just wasn’t ready for that. I mean, the conversation was flowing, but I was trying to keep it light.

Thankfully, she didn’t ask anything that would force me to either lie or tell the truth that my mom had died. I knew her mom died too, but I didn’t ask how because it didn’t seem like she was offering all that up, which was cool. We were on the same page with that one. It was none of my business. But Lovey did talk about her grandma, Ms. Brown, telling me stories about how she raised her.

“Every holiday I had to visit and feed the homeless,” she said.

I never really knew anyone who helped homeless people. I mean, I’ve seen someone give them some change on the train, but I was so used to ignoring them, or watching other kids laugh at them, that I never even thought about people really helping them. So I thought it was cool that Lovey was into that.

When the repast was over, and everyone had pretty much left, even Mr. Ray, I helped her pack the food up and waited with her outside for a cab. When the cab came we both got in with all the leftovers, some of which she gave to me.

“So, where you live?” I asked.

“Hmmm. I live alone now, and you seem nice but you could be a killer”—she joked, but was half-serious—“so how ’bout we drop you off first.

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