The Kid Read Online Free PDF Page B

Theresa, that’s where I met your mom. We learned to read and write together.”
    “Whatchu mean?”
    “Whatchu mean, what I mean?”
    “About you and my mom learning to write, or whatever, at the Hotel Theresa.”
    “She never told you about that? No? Well, remind me to one day. We ain’t got no time now.”
    I got time now. Plus I don’t want to go in there, whatever it is in the Harlem State Office Building. Rita hold out her hand, I shake my head.
    “Come on, stop acting silly and bring your booty over here. People are waiting on us.” We go up in the elevator to a room with people walking around smiling and sitting in chairs against the wall eating food and drinking coffee. Rita take me over to a woman in a black and white stripe dress.
    “Abdul, I want you to meet Mrs McKnight. She used to be head of Each One Teach One before it closed down.” So what was it? Lady leans over to kiss me. I’m tired of people kissing me, I don’t want her to kiss me, but she does.
    “You eat quiche?” Rita asks.
    “I like the mushroom kind.”
    “Well, try this, it’s spinach and cheese.” We move down the table of food. I get some ham and potato salad, I stop in front of a whole bunch of cakes, a lot of them. “Go ahead, get what you want.” I get carrot cake with frosting and chocolate cake.
    “Let’s sit over here.” She points to some chairs against the wall. I never seen these people before. What this got to do with my mother? My mother said I was the most important person in her life. The quiche taste good, ham too. I don’t like this potato salad; I like the way my mother make it.
    “After you finish your cake, we go talk to Ms Rain.”
     
     
    RITA CLOSES THE DOOR to the little office. I hear the people outside talking and laughing with their food. Ms Rain is sitting behind a desk.
    “Have a seat, Abdul,” Ms Rain say. I don’t want to sit down. I think I know what they’re going to say. I wanna run out the room, go home. But home is with my mother, without my mom ain’t no home. How I’m feeling? What she think? I don’t talk smart. My mother don’t allow that. I look at Rita. My stomach feel funny. I wish they would just go on and talk.
    “Well, your mother is gone. And your father too, evidently he’s been dead for quite a while. I guess you already knew that?”
    I didn’t. I look out the window. I don’t usually be this high up, what, we on the twentieth floor or something? I look outside see a computer screen instead of the sky for a second. Plane tumbling down first slow then over and over again then whoosh screen bust into flames! Then I see myself tumbling through the air. Headlines NINE-YEAR-OLD BOY JUMPS TO HIS DEATH. They’ll be sorry then they lied about my father and saying stuff about AIDS.
    “Abdul. I know you’re wondering what’s next, where you’re going to stay and school—”
    “I catch the bus to school,” I tell her. Rita looks at Ms Rain, then at me.
    “I never told you, boobie, I’m a little sick myself.” I feel hot, the room, Rita look like a dream, red lips powder face. I run to the wastebasket, almost make it before ugh! Quiche, chocolate cake, grape soda ugh! AHHH!
    “It’s OK,” Rita say. Ms Rain hands me some tissue.
    “Are you alright?” she asks.
    “Yeah,” I say, and sit back down. I know what’s coming. Kids at school ain’t got no parents live at fosters homes and group homes and stuff. I look out the window see myself tumbling over and over again like the plane. BLAM!!
    “Where’s all my stuff?” I ask.
    “Huh?” Ms Rain seems surprised.
    “My computer, my toys, my books, my posters, my bike.”
    “Your mother sent someone over to the apartment before she died to get her notebooks, papers, legal documents, and stuff. I don’t think she believed she was going to . . . to pass away. I think she thought she was going to get better one more time. Rita and I went over there the day before yesterday, and there was a padlock on the