The Gun Read online

  “Yeah, you figuring to get a gun for chump change, boy?” Jupiter asked in a nasty voice. “If you want a gun for a few bucks, go to the toy store.”

  “No, no, I ain’t complainin’,” Tyray said quickly. He just did not yet know where he would get the money.

  “Don’t waste my time unless you got the cash,” Jupiter growled, turning away quickly.

  “I’ll get the money and I’ll be back,” Tyray said. Jupiter did not acknowledge Tyray’s response. Instead, he strolled away in silence.

  Tyray knew jokes about him continued to circulate throughout Bluford. In English class, students quietly laughed at him until Mr. Mitchell arrived. Tyray stewed in anger as the class began and sat almost motionless for the entire fifty minutes of the period. Instead of taking notes or answering questions, he drew sharp angular designs onto a blank page of his notebook.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute, Tyray?” the teacher asked at the end of class. Tyray rolled his eyes as students rushed out of the classroom. Mr.Mitchell was one of the most well-liked teachers at Bluford. He was sharp too. Hardly anything got past him. When Tyray taunted Darrell, Mr. Mitchell was the only one who caught him in the act. And he was also nosy, Tyray thought, intruding into students’ lives when he thought they needed help. He had done this with Darrell, and Tyray was sure he was going to try it with him. He had no time for the nosy teacher’s charity.

  “What for?” Tyray challenged. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

  “A lot has happened to you in the last couple of weeks. How are you doing with everything?” Mr. Mitchell asked.

  “I’m fine,” Tyray replied, his face burning in anger and frustration. He wanted to scream none of your business, but instead he added, “My wrist is healing up good. The doctor says I can get the cast off in four weeks.”

  “That’s great,” Mr. Mitchell said, pausing briefly. “Listen, I know that was a pretty rough experience you went through. If someone’s making it difficult for you—”

  “Everything’s cool,” Tyray replied abruptly, leaning back in the chair and staring at his cast. How could he explain that everything—and everyone—was making his life miserable? You don’t know jack about me and you never will, he wanted to say.

  “Tyray, look,” Mr. Mitchell said, “I know you’re hurting, and I just want you to know that I’ve been there. I’ve been right where you are now. When I was your age I built a wall around myself, too. A lot of guys do that because they believe that it’s the manly way. But it’s not. The manly way is to admit that you’ve got things tearing you up on the inside. That’s what being a man means. It’s not about hiding your feelings and being angry at everyone. It’s about dealing with them so that you can be stronger than you used to be.”

  Tyray resented Mr. Mitchell. He had no right to poke and prod him. Yes, things were difficult. And yes, he was hurting on the inside. But Tyray had survived all his life without Mr. Mitchell telling him how to live. He was not about to spill his guts to a man wearing a Tweety Bird tie.

  But as much as Tyray did not want to admit it, Mr. Mitchell had struck a nerve. Tyray felt a rush of sadness, one which took all his concentration to push back. He could not pour his heart out to Mr. Mitchell. He could not fall to pieces right there in the classroom. He was not that weak.

  “You’re not in a good place at all, Tyray,” Mr. Mitchell added when he did not reply.

  Tyray jerked forward in the chair, swallowing his emotions. “What you talkin’ ’bout, Mr. Mitchell? I ain’t had no more detentions. I’m doin’ good.”

  “Oh sure, you’ve been staying out of trouble, and that’s great,” Mr. Mitchell said. “But you’re torn up on the inside. I know how the guys have been riding you. I see what’s going on. But look, you can get through this and come out the other side a stronger, better kid. You can make a fresh start. You’ll be surprised how things can turn around once people see you’re making an honest effort to change.”

  Yeah, right. Wait until you see how I change things, Tyray thought, imagining the feel of the gun in his hands. He forced a fake smile and said, “You’re right, Mr.Mitchell. I’ll try changin’. I’ve already decided to spend more time studyin’.”

  “Maybe you want to join a sport like wrestling. It did a world of good for Darrell Mercer. I know Coach Lewis would welcome you on the squad once your wrist heals,” Mr. Mitchell said.

  Tyray boiled at the mention of Darrell’s name. There was no way he would spend a second with the kid who ruined his reputation, except to get revenge. Again, he swallowed hard before speaking.

  “I’ll think about it, Mr. Mitchell. Maybe I’ll even talk to Mercer about it,” Tyray said, smiling coldly as he pictured his future confrontation with Darrell. “Right now I’m spendin’ a lotta time studyin’, tryin’ to bring up my grades and stuff, so I ain’t got much time for sports.”

  “Tyray, you gotta get that chip off your shoulder, okay?” the teacher said, studying Tyray’s face as if he were looking for a clue to a mystery.

  “If you say so, Mr. Mitchell,” Tyray replied. “But, believe me, I ain’t got problems with nobody. I’m just mindin’ my own business.”

  “Okay Tyray,” Mr. Mitchell sighed. “If you ever need somebody to talk to, I’m here, okay?”

  Tyray stood up and walked out of the classroom wearing a phony grin. He did not need to talk with Mr. Mitchell. What he needed was fifty dollars, and he needed it fast.

  Chapter 5

  After leaving Mr. Mitchell’s room, Tyray spotted Lark walking alone in the hallway, clutching a small purse. When Tyray saw her, an idea struck him. Maybe she could help him find some money.

  “Hey, Lark,” he called out, trying to sound friendly.

  “Hi, Tyray,” she said, beaming.

  Tyray fell in step beside her. “How you doin’, girl?”

  “I’m good,” Lark said with a smile. Tyray could tell she was flattered by his attention. “How about you?” she asked.

  “Not so good.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lark asked, obvious concern on her face.

  “I’m broke,” Tyray began. “My mom’s birthday is comin’ up, and I wanted to buy her this nice necklace. But I can’t afford it. Mom’s been under a lot of pressure lately with my aunt bein’ sick and all. I just thought the necklace would cheer her up, you know.”

  “That’s such a sweet idea,” Lark said. “It’s a shame you don’t have the money.”

  Tyray sensed his plan was working. “Maybe I’ll be able to get it for her next year,” he sighed. “If I’d only started saving sooner.”

  Lark was quiet for a while. Then she said, “You know what, Tyray? I’ve saved some money from baby-sitting, and I could lend it to you for your Mom’s present.”

  “For real?” Tyray asked, acting surprised. “You sure? I don’t feel right takin’ your money. I could just get the present next year.”

  “No, I’m serious. You’re being so sweet. I’d love to help your mom get her present.”

  “Girl, you’re all that,” Tyray said, draping his arm on her shoulder. “Mom’s gonna be so happy. The necklace costs eighty dollars, but I already saved thirty. All I need is fifty more.”

  “That’s a lot of money,” Lark answered, seeming stunned.

  “I know it, girl.” Tyray said, trying his best to work his charm. “Why don’t you just forget about it. I’ll just get the necklace next year.”

  “No. I’ll have fifty dollars after I baby-sit this weekend. You can borrow it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” Lark said, looking up at him. “I want to help.”

  “Thanks, girl. You more than all right.” Tyray caressed Lark’s soft cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.” With those words, he turned and strolled to his next class, thrilled with the knowledge that he was getting closer to the gun.

  When Tyray got home from school, his mother was cooking dinner. On days she came home early, Mom went to a lot of trouble
making delicious meals. The living room was often filled with the aromas of pork chops, pot roasts, or fried chicken. She even made fresh salads and home-made pies, careful to roll the crusts herself so they would be perfect. Tyray never understood why his mother went to such great lengths. Dad rarely did anything but complain, no matter what she did.

  Tyray eyed his mother as she worked in the hot kitchen. “What are you looking at, sweetie?” she asked when she noticed him. “You wondering if this pie will be done by dinnertime? Yes, it will. It’ll bake up nice by then. Just the way your father likes it.”

  Tyray looked at his mother as if she were from another planet. He could not stand how Dad ruled over the house and how Mom allowed it to happen. What did she see in his father? Why did she live this way? Tyray knew that she got pregnant with Warren when she was just seventeen and Dad had married her right away. At the time, she dropped out of high school and never went back to finish. That was why she was now stuck in a low-paying job as an aide in a nursing home.

  “How come you married him, Mom?” Tyray asked bluntly.

  “What?” Mom exclaimed, nearly dropping the bowl of salad she had been carrying. “Why are you askin’ me a question like that? I married your father because I loved him, and I still do.”

  “But how could you love him?” Tyray asked, surprised at his own honesty.

  “Honey, what’s wrong with you? Your daddy is a good man. He’s working hard right now to take care of you, bustin’ his back every day. Lotta men don’t do that,” she said defensively and then hesitated. “I know he’s hard on you sometimes, but it’s ’cause he worries. Ever since Warren went to jail, your father has never been the same.”

  Tyray did not want to hear his mother’s excuses. Dad had been bullying the household for as long as he could remember, though it was true he had gotten much worse after Warren got arrested. Since then Dad seemed eager to get into an argument, and even the smallest thing would send him into a tantrum.

  Watching his mother working hard in the kitchen, Tyray was filled with bitterness, and for once he could not hold it back. “Mom, you take too much from him,” Tyray said bluntly. He had felt this way for years, but until now he had never said anything, not even to Warren. But the misery of the past week had changed him somehow, and he could barely control his words.

  “Tyray, I won’t have you talking that way about your father. He’s a good man. He provides for us so we have a decent place to live and good food on the table. He ain’t never cheated on me, and he loves you boys,” Mom said.

  “Mom, he don’t love me. Not one bit. All he wants to do is push me around,” Tyray said bitterly. “And I’ve seen him pull your hair and slap you in your face,” he confessed. Never before had he told his mother he had seen what happened.

  Mom stepped back and turned away from him, as if his words hurt her. “When did you see such a thing?”

  “When I was in fifth grade,” Tyray said, “and it was hot and I couldn’t sleep—”

  “Yes, that happened,” Mom said, swallowing hard. “But it only happened that one time,” she continued, her voice trembling. “Your father had been drinking, and he had a jealous fit. When he sobered up, I told him that if he ever laid a hand on me again I would take you and Warren to my mother’s house and get a divorce. He’s never hit me again, never. I swear that’s true, Tyray.”

  Tyray looked into his mother’s eyes, unsure how to respond. “Whatever,” he sighed, shrugging. Then he went to his room.

  Tyray wished Warren was still home. Warren was three years older than Tyray, and the two had always been very close. When Tyray was in kindergarten, he began to idolize his older brother. Back then, Warren let Tyray hang out with him and his older friends. But all that changed when Warren became a teenager. Then he did everything he could to keep Tyray from trailing him.

  “Get lost, willya?” Warren would yell. “Me and my boys don’t need some little kid runnin’ behind us, okay?” Once Warren even took the wheels off Tyray’s bike so he could not follow him. Another time, Warren locked Tyray in the bathroom so he and his friends could get away. Tyray was stuck there for two hours until Mom came home.

  During his junior year in high school, Warren became a totally different person. His grades dropped, he became disrespectful, and he got into trouble left and right. One night, Warren and his friends held up a grocery store. The police caught Warren with a loaded gun. He was arrested and sentenced to three years in jail.

  Mom and Dad were devastated by what happened, and Tyray was shattered. He still idolized his brother, no matter how much Warren had changed. Mom and Dad never let Tyray visit Warren in prison, but he was allowed to write him. The two had exchanged letters for a while, but it had been nearly six months since Tyray heard anything from Warren.

  Tyray kept his brother’s letters in a box under his bed. Alone in his bedroom, he reached down, grabbed the box, and pulled out the small stack of letters. Tyray flipped through the wrinkled white sheets of paper covered with Warren’s angular print. He stopped at a letter Warren sent him late last year and read it.

  Tyray,

  How you holding up? Howare Mom and Pops? I know they are angry at me for everything, and I don’t blame them one bit.I’m trying to stay positive in here, but it ain’t easy. I still got two years to go, and sometimes I don’t think I can stand another day in here. I got three things that keep me from going crazy— weightlifting, books, and you.

  I keep thinking about the bad example I set for you. I made mistakes, little brother. I played into the game that says you gotta be tough, you gotta be the baddest dude around, you gotta show it off. But respect ain’t about scaring others, and it ain’t about having the right shoes or the best clothes. Sitting behind these bars, you see how all that stuff is a lie. I’d give anything to be with you on the outside again. There ain’t no respect in prison. Whatever you do, don’t end up like me. Don’t play the game I played. Stay straight, do your best in school, and don’t let Dad get to you. I’ll be writing again soon.

  Peace,

  Warren

  Tyray folded the letter and placed it back inside the box. He wondered when he would see Warren again. Around the time his brother began dabbling in crime, Tyray started making some discoveries of his own. He noticed how smaller kids were intimidated by him, how they looked at him nervously. Tyray liked the feeling that gave him. Up until then, it was Tyray who was always afraid. Afraid of Dad who acted like an angry giant. Afraid of Warren who was older and stronger. Afraid of Warren’s friends, strangers like Bones who carried guns into his brother’s room.

  It was not long before Tyray discovered kids would do stuff for him just to stay on his good side. Some would even try to earn his friendship by acting mean towards other kids. They treated him as if he were someone important. They showed him respect. But Darrell Mercer changed all that. Now Tyray was back to being a nobody.

  But not for long.

  As Tyray approached Bluford the next morning, he spotted Darrell standing outside the front doors of the high school. He seemed to be waiting for someone.

  Tyray glared at Darrell, holding back an urge to pound the boy on the Bluford steps. But to his surprise, Darrell stared at him and smiled slightly. Tyray froze. Was Mercer going to rub it in a little more?

  “Tyray, we gotta talk,” Darrell said, taking a deep breath. “I know some guys are giving you a hard time, and that ain’t right.”

  Tyray scowled. So that was it, he thought. Ruining his reputation was not enough. Now Mercer wanted to show everyone at Bluford he was a bigger man than Tyray.

  “Boy, get out of my face!” Tyray growled through clenched teeth.

  Darrell took a step back. “What’s your problem?” he sputtered. “We don’t have to be enemies forever, do we?”

  “I hate you, Mercer,” Tyray said coldly. “And I’m gonna pay you back. One day soon, you’re gonna wish you never left Philadelphia.”

  Darrell’s smile vanished, instantly replaced by a
look of worry.

  Tyray nodded in satisfaction. Darrell was under a cloud of fear again. It was the way things were in the beginning. And it was the way they would stay, Tyray thought, turning away from Darrell and storming into Bluford.

  Chapter 6

  At lunchtime, Tyray saw Amberlynn Bailey and Jamee Wills talking to Lark. She was sitting at a table alone, and the two girls were standing on either side of her. Quietly, he approached the girls from behind so he could eavesdrop.

  “Lark, don’t give him any money,” Jamee was saying. “That boy is no good.”

  “That’s right,” Amberlynn chimed in. “The only reason he needs money is ’cause people like Darrell aren’t payin’ him anymore. If he’s so broke, tell him to get a job.”

  “I bet he ain’t even gonna use the money to buy a present for his mom,” Jamee added. “He’s probably after something for himself.”

  “I don’t believe Tyray is lying to me,” Lark said.

  “Believe it, girl,” Jamee said, putting her hands on her hips. “That boy—”

  Jamee turned and spotted Tyray through the corner of her eye. All three girls looked at him awkwardly. He glared at Jamee.

  “We’ll catch up with you later, Lark,” Amberlynn said, leading Jamee away from the table. Tyray noticed they were careful to avoid looking at him directly.

  “Tyray, are you really buying a present for your mom?” Lark asked. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Girl, I told you. I’m buyin’ her this necklace I saw at the mall. I know it’ll cheer her up. He paused and looked at her. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me. I’m used to people not trustin’ me. The whole school’s down on me right now. I don’t blame you if you hate me too.”

  “Oh Tyray, I don’t hate you. I really like you,” Lark said, placing her hand gently on Tyray’s arm.