Uptown Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

time for his youngest daughter. Not anymore.
    Maybe never again . Reese rolled her eyes, then watched her parents from the mirror, pissed to the highest level. Their mandatory sentence was killing her groove, and they weren’t being fair. Not in Reese’s eyes. It wasn’t as if she was a habitual liar. She only did what she had to do to get what she wanted, and didn’t deserve to be cooped up. Especially because she hadn’t told a complete lie—she just hadn’t been completely honest. She had studied. Hard. Had taken and received an almost perfect score on the pre SAT, and dominated the AP prep. As far as she was concerned, she should’ve been able to come and go as she pleased. At fourteen years old she could test out of just about any high school, and had had the chance to graduate from one of the hardest high schools to be accepted into. But, no, that wasn’t good enough for her mom. Her mother wanted Reese to be a musician. And not just any music-playing genius; she had to be a classically trained one on a Julliard track.
    â€œIf I get picked, rehearsals’ll start immediately,” another lie ran out of her mouth, taking her conscience with it. Reese was on a mission and determined to do whatever to get out of the house—even betraying her parents. Lying to get what she wanted didn’t bother her. Not anymore. And she wanted to work on a track and be with her boyfriend Blaze. Badly. Had to hook up with him during the day. Needed to make sure she didn’t lose him or their sound. That’s what she was most afraid of. Not being able to make the type of music she loved—hip-hop—and losing her boyfriend because her father had decided to step back in, fit playing daddy into his schedule, and ruin her relationship with the only other guy who cared about her. And Reese wasn’t having it. She wasn’t losing two guys she loved, and was convinced she could live with just having one, as long as it was him and the music.
    â€œA music audition? At Bronx Science?” Mrs. Allen stood behind Reese, fixing the fringes on the bottom of Reese’s braids while her father continued to listen. “... that requires you to dress like that? Come on, the crack of your butt is almost showing. And Bronx Science doesn’t do music, Reese,” she argued.
    Reese turned, exasperated. Her stare landed on her seven-year-old nephew, Dakota, who had appeared out of nowhere, and he just smiled. Then she looked at her father, but he was unsurprisingly useless, and just shrugged. She turned her attention to her mother. The lady who would never get it. Anything outside of Harlem CAPA and Julliard were beyond her comprehension. And so was fashion. But not the arts. Her mom was right-brained, a creative soul who loved anything involving imagination. And Reese used it to her advantage. “ Mom . It’s not Science’s production, it’s just being held at Science. And Science does too do music. We’re—well, I mean, since you separated me from my friends— they’re more than mental calculators and scientific formulas, ya know? They have a theatre club. Call and ask. The play is like Flashdance. You gotta remember Flashdance. ...” Reese breezed out of the bathroom with pep in her step because she was getting better at lying, and some organization really was holding auditions at the school. She’d checked the day before. Rushing ninety miles an hour to her room to get her things before her mother changed her mind, Reese turned up her lie. “It’s like that. I have to stand out from my competition. That’s why I have on my Native regalia,” Reese yelled, slipping on knee-high moccasin boots.
    Mrs. Allen followed. “Okay, but only because I support your dreams and creativity, and it’ll look good on your music resume for college. But you know I don’t like you running around with your butt showing. I deal with enough