Secret Saturdays Read Online Free PDF Page A

passed them, they looked at me like I was bothering them. My moms and old folks had to walk through this crap. That got me heated too.
    Ma told me we were lucky. She said most Red Hook buildings were worse than ours. The worst we ever saw was somebody once got stabbed. But he lived. In a few other buildings, guys were shot and killed.
    â€œIt never bugs you how our building is?” I asked Sean.
    â€œNah,” he said. “If it did, I’d go live with my pops in our house in Puerto Rico. It’s mad clean there. Like heaven. It’s too boring, though.”
    Right now, I wished I had a cool dad and a house in a nice clean place where me and my moms could live.
    My apartment was on the second floor. Sean was on the sixth. When we were in my room, Sean said, “I can only stay an hour or two.”
    â€œWhat?” I said. “I thought I was grabbing my stuff. For our sleepover at your place.”
    â€œI forgot to tell you,” Sean said. “I can’t do our sleepover. My moms said I’m on punishment for not doing my chores.”
    That was bugged. It wasn’t like Sean to cancel a sleepover. I tried not to look upset. Most weekends, me, Sean, and Kyle took turns staying over each other’s apartments. The sleepover idea started with me and Sean. After a while, Kyle joined in. Vanessa didn’t spend the night at our apartments because a girl staying over boys’ houses made her look like a ho. So Vanessa missed out on playing games until three, four in the morning. Us prank-calling kids who went to our school. Watching music videos until we fell asleep.
    â€œNext time,” Sean said.
    â€œWord,” I answered, but I was confused. I hoped nothing was wrong. It was big for Sean’s moms to make him cancel on me and Kyle.
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    In my room, Sean sat in my beanbag chair and flipped through one of Kyle’s rap magazines. Kyle wasn’t into rapping as much as me and Sean, but he got rap magazines mailed to his house because his father read The Source , XXL, and Vibe . Kyle knew Sean liked these magazines because they had rappers’ rhymes written out. Every month he let Sean borrow the latest issues. They been doing that since fourth grade. That was a way Sean and Kyle were close.
    Sean took those magazines and wrote down the rappers’ rhymes, twice. A copy for him and one for me. That’s how we were close. He could’ve looked out for just himself but he didn’t. Since forever, he hit me off with whatever he got his hands on.
    I stood at my CD player. Pressing the skip button and trying to find this battle Black Bald had on BET this past summer.
    Black Bald was ill. Me, Sean, Vanessa, and Kyle loved this rapper. We saw him at a free concert in Prospect Park. He battled two other rappers at the same time and he slayed them.
    Killah Kid, this rapper I couldn’t stand, once popped up on BET and challenged Black Bald right on the show. Killah was a rapper in high school. He had a six-pack stomach and took off his shirt in all his videos. He probably thought he could model. His raps were just okay, but he said he was as good as Jay-Z. Yeah right.
    I didn’t know who let Killah interrupt Black’s interview on live TV. And I didn’t know how Killah got a microphone, but he did.
    â€œKillah,” the pretty, Serena Williams-looking host said, surprised. “What you doing here?”
    â€œWhy you interviewing this fake?” Killah asked. “Black can’t freestyle. He don’t even write his own raps.” Killah didn’t even make eye contact with Black. He turned to the audience instead. “You want to hear me battle this punk?” he asked.
    They went crazy. “Battle!” they yelled. “Battle! Battle!”
    The female host asked Black, “So you accept Killah’s challenge?”
    Black took his microphone and waved to the deejay. “Throw on a hot beat. A’ight, Killa. Show us