On the Come Up

by Angie Thomas

Usually I’m cool with an entire hour of not knowing what the president tweeted.

sound like they came from some “How to Talk to Statistical Black Children Who Come to Your Office Often” handbook.

Compliments like that are part of the parental responsibilities she took on when she evicted me from her womb.

Nobody wants to say it, but if you’re black or brown, you’re more likely to end up on their radar, even though Long himself is black.

See, last year a kid was murdered by a cop just a few streets away from my grandparents’ house. He was unarmed, but the grand jury decided not to charge the officer. There were riots and protests for weeks. Half the businesses in the Garden were either intentionally burned down by rioters or were casualties of the war. Club Envy, the usual Thursday nightspot, was a casualty.

Dad fired Supreme right before he died. Jay claims they had “creative differences.”

I mean, it’s one thing to wanna do something. It’s another to think it’s possible.

Jay says this was like having a stranger come in your house, steal one of your kids, and blame you for it because your family was dysfunctional, while the whole world judges you for being upset.

One is a complete lie: “You can’t control what other people do. You can only control the way that you react.”

Aggressive. One word, three syllables. Rhymes with excessive. I’m so excessive, that I’m aggressive.

There was the time in history class during Black History Month. I asked Mr. Kincaid why we don’t ever talk about black people before slavery. His pale cheeks reddened.

“I’m just saying, don’t act like black people didn’t exist before—”

He told me to go to the office. Wrote me up as being “aggressive.”

Hoodlum. One word, two syllables. Can be made to rhyme with a lot of things. Synonyms: thug, delinquent, hooligan, lowlife, gangster, and, according to Long, Brianna.

“You have more than you know. But in moments like that, I—” She swallows. “I need you to act as if you don’t have any. Once you’re safely out of the situation, then we’ll handle it. But I need you safely out of the situation. Okay?” This is like that talk she gave me about the cops. Do whatever they tell you to do, she said. Don’t make them think you’re a threat. Basically, weaken myself and take whatever’s thrown at me so I can survive that moment.

“No, you’re not. It’s okay if you’re not. You do know you don’t have to be strong all the time, right?”

All these folks I’ve never met became gods over my life. Now I gotta take the power back.

Jacksons can’t cry, but we can tell the truth. “No.”

“I know this shit is probably scary as hell right now, but one day you gon’ look back, and this gon’ feel like a lifetime ago. This a temporary setback for a major comeback. We ain’t letting it stop the come up.”

Sometimes she babies me, like it’s her way of making up for when she wasn’t around. I let her do it, too.

snuggle

I guess Curtis is cute in the same way rodents are weirdly adorable? You know how you’ll see a baby mouse and will be like, ‘Aw, cute!’ Until that bitch is raiding your cabinet, eating the Halloween candy you hid from your little sisters.” “That’s oddly specific.”

I was a dramatic child. Plus, I’d just watched Soul Food for the first time. RIP Big Mama.

1. If you go in a store, keep your hands out of your pockets and out of your backpack. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re stealing. 2. Always use “ma’am” and “sir” and always keep your cool. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re aggressive. 3. Don’t go in a store, a coffee shop, or anything unless you plan on buying something. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re gonna hold them up. 4. If they follow you around the store, keep your cool. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re up to something. 5. Basically, don’t give them a reason. Period.

“When you two fight, it’s like Captain America versus Iron Man, and my ass is Peter Parker, in awe of both of you,” he said. “I can’t pick sides, dammit.”

I’m more of a “yes, people exist, but that doesn’t mean I need to talk to them” person.

Forrest Gump

I’ve never understood those movies that show families up at the crack of dawn, all cheerful because, “Yay, Christmas!” For us it’s, “Yay, sleep!” Seriously though, sleeping in is the best part about Christmas.

Jay goes to her room to call elderly relatives who are surprisingly still alive,

You hold grudges like cheapskates hold money.”

“I’m serious. Crying doesn’t make you weak, Bri, and even if it did, there’s nothing wrong with that. Admitting that you’re weak is one of the strongest things you can do.” I turn and look up at him. “That sounds like something Yoda would say.” “Nah. Yoda would say, ‘Weak, strength is admitting you are.’” He kisses my cheek with a loud, sloppy “Muah!” I quickly wipe the spot. I know I felt some of his spit. “Ill! Getting your germs all on me.”

I’d like to say that ten, twenty, thirty years from now, me, Sonny, and Malik will be as tight as we’ve always been, but that could be a lie. We’re changing in different ways, and we’ll keep changing.

“Somebody’s dying! Who’s dying? Granddaddy, it’s your diabetes, ain’t it?”

You see, I’m headstrong (and petty) like Grandma. I’m creative like Granddaddy. If that’s what you can call what he is, but yeah, I’m that. I speak my mind like Mom. I might be as strong as her, too. I care so much that it hurts. Like Trey. I’m like my dad in a lot of ways, even if I’m not him. And although Kayla isn’t family (yet), maybe she’s a glimpse at who I could be. If I’m nothing else, I’m them, and they’re me. That’s more than enough.

Thank you for being my voice, for giving me a voice, and for showing me myself. The world criticizes you often, and sometimes rightfully so. Hell, sometimes, I’m one of your biggest critics. But I do it from a place of love. I’ve seen what you’re capable of—you can, you will, and you have changed the world. I’ll never give up on you. I’ll always have your back. Keep sparking brains and making noise.

Clearly, young Angie and Bri have a lot in common. I was Bri, but so many of you are Bri, too. You want to make it; you want to change your circumstances. And in a world that often tells you you’re either too much or not enough, it’s easy to give up. While I thought a lot of young Angie when writing this book, I once again started to think of you too, and my mission became clear: I want this book to inspire you to keep going.

Yeah, dude had his problems—some stuff I won’t even try to figure out—but his talent remained. No matter what, he was always Michael Fucking Jackson. I wanna be like that. Wait, not exactly like that, no shade to Mike, but one day I want people to look at me and say, “Despite the fact this girl lost her father to gang violence, had a drug addict for a mom, and is technically a ghetto statistic, she’s Brianna Fucking Jackson, and she’s done some amazing shit.”

ANGIE’S NOTES ON BRI’S BATTLE RAP