'I fink it is!'
Rasheed snorted. ' 'Think.' You got to say 'think.' '
'Fink!' Dennell repeated.
Rasheed shook his smooth head. 'He can't say 'th.' '
'Shhh,' said their mother, waving Rasheed off and turning back to Dennell. 'Baby, you know a man named Eb Darning?'
Dennell nodded. His round eyes rolled from his mother to Judy and back again. He had eyelashes so long they curled up at the end, like a baby camel's.
'He give you money?'
Dennell nodded again, and his mother groaned. 'What you do with this money, boy?'
'Did I do bad?'
Rasheed propped himself up higher on his elbows, his expression as intent as Michael Jordan's. 'Don't lie, D.'
'I ain't lyin'!' Dennell shouted, and his mother patted his leg.
'Settle down now,' she said. 'Don't be shoutin'. How much money?'
'I don't know. Two. Ten.' Dennell shrugged, his tiny shoulders lost in the sweatshirt. 'Ten.'
'Ten dollars?'
'Yes. Ten.'
'Where's this money now?'
Dennell blinked but said nothing.
'He ain't got no money,' Rasheed said, and Judy glanced over. Rasheed looked uneasy. You didn't have to be a mother to know what was going on, and the mother turned from her youngest to her oldest.
'Rasheed. You know something 'bout this money?' Rasheed shook his head, and his mother stood up and put her hands on her hips. 'Young man, you look me right in the eye and tell me you don't know what this baby's talkin' about.'
'Ma—'
'You heard me. You look at me and lie to me. Don't be a sneak.'
Rasheed flopped backward on the bed, his eyes on the ceiling. 'I ain't a sneak.'
'Nothin' I hate worse than a sneak. A sneak's not goin' anywhere in this world. No how. No way. Now you tell me.'
Rasheed sighed. 'The man give him money and shit.'
'Watch your language. Now, what money?'
'Dollar bills.'
'How many? Ten?'
'More,' Rasheed said to the ceiling.
The mother folded her arms. 'Where's this money now?'
'I got it.'
'Get it, boy.'
Rasheed sighed theatrically, tore off the covers, and swung his large feet out of bed. He started explaining as soon as he hit the thin rug. 'It's my money, straight up. Dennell give it to me.'
'Get it,' his mother said.
'He can have it, Momma,' Dennell said helpfully, but was ignored.
Rasheed strode to his closet in his oversized T-shirt and Champion sweatshorts. He was tall and thin, with wiry calf muscles knotted in long legs. He slid the closet door aside on a broken runner and reached in the messy closet to the top shelf. 'I was saving it.'
'You were keepin' a secret.'
'I was savin'. You're always sayin', 'Save, save, save.' ' Rasheed shoved a shoe box aside, revealing another tucked way back. It said ADIDAS on the hidden box. 'I was savin' in case I didn't get those sneakers for my birthday. The Air Jordans.'
His mother looked pained and her body sagged with resignation. 'You know I can't get you those sneakers, Rasheed. They're a hundred dollars. I don't have that kind of money, boy.'
'I know it, that's why I'm savin'. To get 'em myself.'
'You can't get 'em yourself!'
'Yes, I can. You're always sayin', 'Try, try, try.' 'Save, save, save.' Now I'm doin' both and you're rip-shit.'
'Rasheed, that's enough. Why didn't you tell me about the money?'
He shrugged. 'I don't know.'
