Black Boy White School Read Online Free PDF

his oldest brother, who was nodding appreciatively. “I ain’t even gon’ speak to nobody unless they speak to me first.”
    â€œDon’t you go up there with no attitude. You need to leave all that nonsense right out there in those streets. . . .”
    â€œI know, Ma.”
    â€œ. . . All your little ghetto friends and their ghetto ways, you know how easy it could have been you and not that Mookie boy?”
    â€œI know, Ma. . . . I know.”
    The fierceness drained from her eyes and was replaced by relief. “Well, hurry up and get your things together,” she said. “You don’t wanna miss your flight.” She stood stiffly and started collecting dishes. Anthony moved his bags to the front door and then picked up the phone. It was early, but he had promised to call before he left.
    â€œWake up, man,” Anthony joked when his best friend answered. “Still got time to catch that flight.”
    â€œGo on with that garbage,” Floyd said sleepily. “So, is you ready?”
    â€œI guess so.”
    Floyd sniffed. “Don’t guess, nigga. Either you ready or you ain’t.”
    â€œI know, man. It’s just . . . I don’t know.” Silence, except for the sound of his best friend’s breathing. Anthony wanted to say more but didn’t know how. “I’ll be back home in like two months, anyway. You know, for Thanksgiving.”
    â€œThat’s what’s up. . . . Ain’t that where your boy from, anyway? Stephen King?”
    Anthony thought before saying anything. As far as he could remember, they had never talked about his favorite author. “How did you know that?”
    â€œBecause I pay attention, nigga,” Floyd said. “Just like I know you be writing your own stories sometimes. You ain’t never showed me one, but I know, anyway.”
    â€œDamn. You like a teenage detective.”
    Floyd laughed. “Wrong side, playa. If you ever write about me, make me a criminal who don’t never get caught.”
    Someone tapped Anthony’s shoulder. It was his oldest brother, and he was holding the biggest bag. “Hurry up, fool,” Darnell said, heading toward the front door. “Momma already waiting.”
    â€œI gotta go,” Anthony said.
    â€œAwright, man. I’ll holler. And rep E.C., nigga!” Floyd blurted. “Don’t forget where you from.”
    â€œI won’t.”
    He hung up, took a last look around the house, and then went down the front stairs. His brothers stood quietly outside of the car, both of them looking stunned. Anthony understood. But just like it had been on the phone with Floyd, his mouth couldn’t find the words.
    At the airport, his mother cried, but Anthony wouldn’t. He had to show that he could be a man. She made him promise to be good and study hard, made him swear that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. “Do it right,” she said earnestly, and squeezed him one last time. “Show those people that you belong.”
    â€œI will,” he said, and let her go. “I promise.”
    The plane touched down in Portland, and Anthony took a deep breath. The whole day he’d been afraid of a crash, but now he was afraid that he’d made it. He was in Maine, impossibly far from everyone that he knew. If there was trouble, he would have to handle it alone.
    He followed the crowd off the plane and to the baggage claim area. They talked to one another or into cell phones as they waited for their luggage. Anthony wished that he had a phone, but his mother wouldn’t buy him one. And every penny he’d made that summer had gone toward school.
    He found his bags and went outside, looked around for a limousine but found a big van instead. It was dark blue, with BELTON ACADEMY printed on the sides. A bearded man in a flannel shirt and blue jeans leaned against it, reading a newspaper and