REAL THUGS DONT GO TO COLLEGE: NO MORE PREVIEWS!

Chapter 3

Middle school was an extension of what was becoming of me in elementary school. I still did shit that got me in trouble, not caring about consequences because I knew I wouldn't get in trouble. Since Grandma worked and Granddad did all the errands, I became accustomed to when he woke up, ate breakfast, left, and when he would come home to wait on Grandma- all from the window of my neighbor Junebug.
Junebug was a 47-year-old crack head that was the victim of General Motors' first lay-offs. He's had the house he stays in since he was twenty. First person on the block with everything. He was like our role model; his shit was straight and he was cool. We could go over there for something to eat, see some pussy, or just chill out after school and homework. Grandma didn’t care if me or Harold went over there because his momma and my granny were best friends. They used to gamble with some of their friends from the block in playing Pokeno.
One day, I came home from school early (actually, I got kicked out for putting a girl's hair on fire) and went over to Junebug's house. I had to ride the bus home so I didn’t have a chance to smoke my afternoon Black and Mild. Instead of having to walk the block a couple of times, I decided to go over to Junebug's. He let us smoke. Not weed or anything, but Blacks and Squares were cool. I went over to Junebug's and his front door was open. This wasn’t like him; he felt like the way to a woman’s heart was your home. He kept his hit nice. Junebug would make you take your shoes off at the door. No way would he leave the door open for people to just walk up in his crib. Ain't nobody gonna think to take their shoes off. At least I didn't.
"Bug!"
"Bug!"
His lights were off. There was nothing going on in his crib. No tv, no cooking, nothing even upstairs. That's strange. He would even put on music when he was sleeping. I walk up the steps and see him sitting on his bed lighting something up.
"Bug! What's wrong with you?"
"I'm cool. Just in here chillin for a second."
"Whatcha smoking on? Isn't that cocaine?!"
"Nah. It's crack though. I know you don't know the difference since you're so young."
"I know the difference Bug."
"Well, crack ain't as bad as pure cocaine. That shit'll fry your brains. Plus, I only do this, this shit on occasions. Sometimes when shit starts getting to me, I hit one of these motherfuckas. Not that it changes anything, but I be fucked up."
"You must have got laid off too."
Junebug paused and sobered up questioning did I just have the audacity to question his life. There was one rule to Junebug: don't question his life. Here I was at one of his most vulnerable moments asking him something I assume personal to him and saying it like I meant to say it.
"How you know about the layoffs?"
"My granny was talking to my aunt about it."
"Oh."
"Plus we watched the news coverage in class on channel 66."
"Yeah, I got laid off. I'm cool though. 27 years in the shop is good time. I got the house paid for, my cars are paid for, and I've saved a little. Hell, I might even take a trip and leave you in charge of the house, you be
over here so much. Who knows? That shit was fucked up though, u'know? I never missed a day of work and was so close to retirement. I would have preferred the choice of retiring early than to just be let go. The shit was foul, somebody needs to do something about this."
Junebug was getting more upset the more he talked about it. Every time he stopped to think, he would turn his physical concentration on lighting this glass dick in his mouth. The more he talked, the more he smoked. This was the first time I had ever seen the development of somebody getting high.
AND HE WAS GETTING HIGH OFF CRACK!!
"So that's why you smoke crack?", I had to ask him again since he had refused to answer me the first time.
"It's not what you do, it's how you do it."
"Some things you shouldn't do Bug. My auntie smoked that shit and we ain't heard from her in a couple of years."
"I'm sensible with mine Clay. I appreciate you concern, but to answer you question, again, I don't do this all the time. And Ima really stop now since I don't have a job. Gotta save my pennies now. This will probably be the
last day I smoke this shit. Clay, will you do me a favor?"
DO HIM A FAVOR? WHATEVER HE WANTED ME TO DO, I DIDN'T WANT TO DO. YEAH, JUNEBUG'S MY MAN BUT HE'S ON CRACK RIGHT NOW.
"What's up Bug?"
"Will you go around to Mikey's house and pick up my medicine for me. He went to the store for me while I was at work and I forgot to go over there when I got off."
AND I SEE WHY!!
"Sure. I'll be right back."
"Wait. Here."
Junebug goes into his pocket and pulls out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The only time I would ever hold a big face was when we went X-mas shopping with my grandma and she would let us pay for the gifts she was actually buying.
"And keep the rest for yourself."
That's some bullshit. Teasing me with the "keep the change" phrase. I would have rather went for free than to tip me three dollars like it was going to miraculously change my fortune.
"Aight. I'll be back in a minute."
Mikey was Junebug's cousin that lived around the corner. He was one of those fat cats that always got something to say because if he stopped to breathe, he would sound like he was snoring. He sold weed and I figured this is what Junebug wanted me to get from him. I had got some weed from Mikey in the past and it felt kind of cool being twelve years old getting weed from the dope man. I felt I had a little clout in the hood. I still didn't know too many people, but I knew some people that knew some people. So even if you didn't know me, I looked familiar to you. On my way to Mikey's, I decided to spend my three dollars on two faygos, an ice cream sandwich, and a pack of blacks. As I turned the corner on Page, Mikey was outside with a couple of his homeboys working on a car.
"Young Clay! Got kicked out again huh?", Mikey chuckles as if he doesn't need the answer; the proof is walking right up to him.
"Man this girl in class put her hair on my lighter while I was trying to fix it."
"That lil nigga nuts", I hear one of the guys say from the other side of the car. "You wild for that shit."
"Yeah, I'm out of school for five days. I might come
over here and chill out until my granddad leave if it's cool with you Mikey."
"Whenever dude. What's good? How's grandma?"
"She good. Oh, I came over here for some medicine for Bug."
"Why the hell he send you. Bug a dumb ass. Hold on for a minute youngster." Mikey hadn't ever tripped on me about getting some weed before. But then again, Junebug had never asked me to get him some weed: he just told me to. So these were the first two hints that what I was getting was not what I thought I was getting.
"Here Clay. He give you the money?"
I pulled out the hundred and gave it to Mikey with one last glance of despair. Maybe I should have kept it and tried to convince Bug that he didn't give it to me. As I waited for the change, I got nosey because Mikey kept recounting the change he was about to give to me but I noticed it had a twenty in it.
"Here ya go. TAKE THAT TO HIM QUICK."
I was in such awe that he just gave me 60 dollars back, that I didn’t realize that what he was giving me was not a sack of weed, it was two twenty dollar rocks. I put
it in my pocket, not looking (I never looked at the product in front of the dealer, I wanted the impression that I was cool wit it) and marched out the crib. Sixty dollars in my pocket and I ain't got shit to do with it. I felt like ballin' out. At three, I was at the mall, buying something. But first, I had to take Junebug his medicine, grab my Blacks and get a faygo.