You Don't Even Know Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

he says. But he thinks we should check out the jitney station first. “He be there day and night.”
    I’m locking the door, looking at the stuff over by the curb. Yesterday somebody put new shoes there. “So you can walk all over heaven, Mr. J,” a note says.
    We stop in front of Westina’s house. She worked at the store too. Then we pass the twins’ house. They’re in college. My grandfather would send them each twenty bucks a month. Llee’s house is next. Then Kareem’s. He passes it by, though, and doesn’t look back until he’s almost at the corner. By then I’m up his steps and ringing the bell.
    â€œNo!”
    He runs back to the house, pulling at the bag while I lean on his doorbell again and again.
    â€œGive me that.”
    I hold it high over his head.
    â€œI’ll put it back. Promise.”
    He jumps up and down, grabbing for it. “Don’t get me in trouble.”
    My feet get stepped on. My legs get pushed. I don’t budge.
    Kareem is a little kid, and all little kids cry when they know they’re about to get in trouble. So does he. “I won’t do it no more,” he says, hanging on to my legs, begging.
    I hand his dad the bag. “Kareem gave me this.”
    I hear Kareem just as clear as I hear my grandfather sometimes tell me to take care of things while he’s gone. “Snitch,” he says.
    His father opens the bag and looks at me. He stares at Kareem, pulling him inside with one hand. “Thanks,” he says to me. “His mother been sayin’ we need to get him some help. Guess we better.”
    I head for the store. Summer won’t be the same now. Everything’s messed up. Kareem might not even want to join the Scouts. And Llee, what’ll he do if he’s not at the store, bugging me?
    I open the store door, then close it right back. Before I know it I’m walking up the steps of my grandparents’ house. I sit on the swing, thinking of ways to get my grandmother to change her mind. People need this store—I do too—even if it’s not a real store; just a garage full of candy. Besides, can’t nobody fill my grandfather’s shoes but me. And can’t nobody talk to Kareem and Llee about getting over getting even but me, either. Otherwise we’ll all be trying to get even until the day we die. And Granddad would say that’s a stupid way to live.

When I’m president of the world,
    I’ll move the White House to Harlem,
    Outlaw guns—especially the ones they make to take out you and me.
    When I’m president of the world,
    Babies won’t ever go hungry,
    Pampers and cable TV will be free,
    And houses in the hood will look like the ones on HGTV.
    I’ll fix the hole in the ozone,
    Make it illegal to be grown and styling in the same clothes that your kids put on.
    When I’m president of the world,
    I will listen more than talk,
    Walk
instead of ride.
    That way I’ll see America through other people’s eyes.
    When I am president of the world,
    I will still come for dinner on Sundays.
    But no chicken, please.
    People might not understand.

IF YOUR AUNTIE WAKES YOU UP at four in the morning, telling you to get the heck on outta her crib now, you got the right to knock her upside the head— pow! Only I ain’t that kind of dude. I got respect. Even though this little voice in my head says to clock this broad, I turn around, face the wall, and shut my eyes. “Awright, Aunt Philomena,” I say, pulling blankets over my head. “Get on up outta here.”
    She’s short, with legs as skinny as the branches on the artificial tree by the window in the basement. But she thinks she’s tough. So she don’t back down. She grabs the covers with both hands and pulls. I have to hold on to the window ledge not to get drug off, too.
    Me kicking her arms slows her down, but it don’t stop her. She pulls my right arm. I snatch