Raised in a Gang

Chapter 16

Tyra POV

"She got shot last night." My face paled and my eyes widened. Lucky got shot? But how? Who would be so cruel to shoot someone like that?

Wait, was she at least okay? Where did she get shot? How bad was the wound? Is she alive?

All these random questions roamed through my mind. I was seriously going to go crazy if I didn't get answers.

"Are you sure?" Mickie asked. "It could've been someone who looked like Lucky, right?"

Q shook her head. "No, not even close. It was Lucky, she called me last night complaining about how some dickhead shot her and she's sitting in the hospital. She won't be able to walk the same anymore it'll be a limp." Q demonstrated the best limp she could do and nodded her head ferociously.

"Oh, it was horrible. Agonizing. Torturous!" Q pretended to faint. She always was over dramatic.

"What? The blood? The bullet wound? The pain?" Mickie asked.

"No, Lucky's voice!"

Straight face. That was probably one of the dumbest things I heard Q say since the time she mentioned how she witnessed her brother, Ryan, break a shopping cart in the middle of a Trader Joe's parking lot.

"This is serious," Mickie said with a straight voice.

"So am I." Q said, "Anyways, I remember her mentioning how she wanted to apologize to Ty--" Q stopped talking and looked at me. I guess she finally noticed the scratch marks on my face and the huge bruise on my cheek because her eyes widened and she rushed to my aid like a black superhero--always late. El oh el, I kid. I kid.

She brushed her hand over my cheek and gasped. "Oh my gosh, what happened? Lucky did this?" She asked.

"Yes, but what about Lucky. What did she say?" I asked, swatting her hand from my face.

Lucky scrunched her face and thought about what she was saying before she said "Oh yeah!" and continued talking.

"She said to tell you she's sorry and she didn't mean what she did." Q explained. "Whatever that means. Well, I guess now I know what she meant by that. I mean, who wouldn't be sorry. How the hell can you go onstage looking like that? She messed up your hair and face. Girl, I need to get your weave done."

"Q, my hair is natural." I said, "It's in a freaking afro for Pete's sake."

"Yeah, yeah. Black is beauty. African Princess. In touch with the Motherland. But um, when you gonna trade the afro puff in for some nice box braids?" Q asked.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Swatting her hand again as she took a piece of my hair in her hand, I took a seat at my desk and started flipping through the binder for a piece of blank loose leaf paper to use.

"Do you want Chresanto to give us a ride after school to the hospital?" Mickie asked the both of us. She had a look indescribable on her face, I was actually pretty scared of what to come. I mean, all I knew was Lucky got shot and even though I should be mad as hell at her for what she did to me not even a week ago, I couldn't find it in my heart to just hold a grudge over her. I mean, she was in the hospital for Pete's sake.

"Sure." Q said, flipping through a Cover Girl magazine. She basically looked at the make up on the models for more ideas when she would apply make up. She finally learned how to do the wing thingy with her eye liner and wanted to try it out on one of us before she did it on herself. She liked using us for her lab monkeys.

I, being the natural one of the group, was totally against using make up for anything and decided to show off my natural beauty without using chemicals and all that gunk on my face and skin. There was totally no point in applying all that on my face when I knew I was already pretty. I didn't want to make anyone jealous of how freaking gorgeous I was. No one likes a show off.