The Stick Up Kid

Late Start

It was early on a Monday morning when I woke up. Someone was roughly tugging at my arm. I smacked their hand away with my elbow and rolled over in bed, but then I got punched in the shoulder.

            “Wake up Boy!” I heard my little sister scream. She shouted right in my ear too, I could buss her in the face for that.

            Opening my eyes, I sat up in bed and shot Libya, my sister the evil eye. “Chill out man…” I muttered.

            “The bus come in twenty minutes! Get yo butt out the bed,” Libya said.

            “Aight, Aight,” I stumbled out of bed in nothing but some boxers. My room was a mess so I had to step over dirty clothes to get to the door. When I reached the bathroom, I opened the door and flicked the lights on. A roach crawled out of the tub and fled behind the toilet. If I had the energy I would have baited it out and killed it.

            I turned on the water and felt a rush of ice-cold liquid douse my naked body. Libya probably used all of the hot water, which sucks for me. Even though I can’t stand cold showers, I tend to take about four a week. I should have just washed last night.

             After the shower I was back in my room picking out what I wanted to wear. There really wasn’t much of an option though. The only thing in my closet was black t-shirts, white t-shirts, and a couple of polo’s. I stopped wearing graphic shirts because it showed how often I recycled my clothes. I’ll never forget what made me do it. I got in an argument with this girl and she burned me. She said ‘Didn’t you wear that Monday?’ had every one laughing but me.

            I brushed off that bad memory and threw on one of my longer black shirts and some khaki cargo pants. Shifting my beaded braids to the side I stared at my self in the mirror. I looked pretty good. Before I headed out, I got my sigma 9mm out of my shoebox and put it in my pants, which made them sag lower.

            “Com’ on! Lets go!” I heard Libya shout. She was just like mom, loud for no reason.

            Without responding, I walked outside and locked the door. Libya was standing around eating a cereal bar. My sister’s dark brown skin, slim, has nappy hair and was fourteen years old. She’s not too tall, standing at 5’3”, but has a pretty sour attitude.

            “Could you take any longer?” Libya asked. You could hear the irritation in her voice.

            “Yup’,” I replied. We turned to walk to the bus stop when our bus flew right past us. My eyes shot open as I the watched our ride speed down the street. “Damn.”

            Libya sucked her teeth. “Great move Kashawn! Look what you did, I shoulda left yo ass in the bed.”

            “Shut up,” I hissed. Even though I couldn’t believe we missed the bus, I didn’t actually care. “We gon have to walk.” My sister sighed and balled her fist like she wanted to hit me. “What, you got a problem?” I growled, reading her body language a little too hard. Libya clenched her teeth and brushed past me. She had rightful reason to be mad at me, but she knew better than to act on her furry.

            “If I get sent to I-9 cause of you…” she mumbled, referring to detention.

            “You aint gon do shit,” I said, finishing her sentence. She cut her eyes and stormed off down the sidewalk. I sighed while lingering behind her. After missing the bus, I had a feeling today was going to be a long day.