crying, and others were just being nosey. The crowd was so thick that I couldnât make my turn onto Wyle Street, so I got out of my car and walked up the street. It was obvious something was wrong. When I hit the corner, all I saw were fire engines and ambulances. Aunt Gloriaâs house was going up in a blaze of flames. I was determined to know what had happened.
I saw Ms. Cookie on the ground, crying her heart out, screaming, âMy baby, my baby!â
Instantly, I knew Mal-Mal was in that fire. Man, what the fuck had happened?
âWhat happened, Ms. Cookie? Ms. Cookie, what happened?â I said as my heart pounded inside my chest.
No one could hold me back. I was madâmad at the world, mad at Ms. Cookie, and mad at myself.
Later, I found out that Ms. Cookie never went back to Gloriaâs when I gave her the twenty dollars. She went around Orleans Place to cop her some blow, and Gloria had to go to work and left Mal-Mal and his cousin, Gwenee, at home by themselves.
Mal-Mal wasnât but eleven years old, and Gwenee was only twelve. Anybody in their right mind would know you canât leave an eleven- and twelve-year-old home by themselves with a bunch of fireworks on the Fourth of July.
When the fire marshals finally put out the fire, they went into the house to investigate what had happened and to see if anyone was alive in there. Ms. Cookie was still crying, trying to pry her way through the police and firemen, but they held her back with all their strength.
âGet the fuck off me! My babyâs in there! Oh my God, Mal-Mal! My baby, my baby! Please, God, not my baby!â Ms. Cookie screamed.
Thatâs all I could hear was Ms. Cookie screaming. As for myself, I just stood in the middle of Wyle Street with no expression on my face. I had no feeling in my body. I donât even remember if I was thinking or not. I was in a complete daze, and my whole system had shut down.
The first body they brought out was Gwenee. The fire marshal had her in his arms, and her body was limp. She didnât have any burn marks on her or anything, so she must have died from smoke inhalation. Liâl Gwenee was Gloriaâs only child, and when Gloria arrived on the scene and saw the fireman holding her dead child in his arms, she went off.
âGive me my child! Give me my child!â she screamed, fighting with the police and fire marshal who were trying to hold her back. She cried in pain for her child, and then her cry became angry blame.
âCookie, what the fuck did you do to my baby? What the fuck did you do?â She fell to the ground, scratching and kicking the police, screaming, âGet the fuck off me!â
The fire marshal then brought Mal-Mal out. The only way that I knew it was him was from the new Jordans he had on, because I had gotten them for him last week. His body was burned from head to toe. I was so fucked up at what I saw that all I could do was fall to my knees right there in the middle of the street and cry the loudest pain that I ever felt in my life.
Ms. Cookie fell unconscious and had to be hospitalized for a few days. All I could think about was Bilal and how he would take it.
Â
Â
I paid for Mal-Malâs funeral and wake because I had a little money from the niggas who still owed me in the street. I sold my 300ZX but kept my Rolex, and I had about twenty thousand to work with after the funeral and everything.
After we buried Mal-Mal, Ms. Cookie went into rehab, and I continued trying to get some money. I always felt in my heart that my life was indebted to Bilal for taking my murder rap, and I also felt somehow responsible for Mal-Malâs death. If I had only been there to help light those fireworks, Mal-Mal would never have tried to do it himself.
Â
Â
Sonya
Â
âOkay now, Mr. Lawyer, tell me where youâre from,â I said.
Jovan started smiling, and for a minute I thought he was blushing.
âWell, I grew up all
I saw Ms. Cookie on the ground, crying her heart out, screaming, âMy baby, my baby!â
Instantly, I knew Mal-Mal was in that fire. Man, what the fuck had happened?
âWhat happened, Ms. Cookie? Ms. Cookie, what happened?â I said as my heart pounded inside my chest.
No one could hold me back. I was madâmad at the world, mad at Ms. Cookie, and mad at myself.
Later, I found out that Ms. Cookie never went back to Gloriaâs when I gave her the twenty dollars. She went around Orleans Place to cop her some blow, and Gloria had to go to work and left Mal-Mal and his cousin, Gwenee, at home by themselves.
Mal-Mal wasnât but eleven years old, and Gwenee was only twelve. Anybody in their right mind would know you canât leave an eleven- and twelve-year-old home by themselves with a bunch of fireworks on the Fourth of July.
When the fire marshals finally put out the fire, they went into the house to investigate what had happened and to see if anyone was alive in there. Ms. Cookie was still crying, trying to pry her way through the police and firemen, but they held her back with all their strength.
âGet the fuck off me! My babyâs in there! Oh my God, Mal-Mal! My baby, my baby! Please, God, not my baby!â Ms. Cookie screamed.
Thatâs all I could hear was Ms. Cookie screaming. As for myself, I just stood in the middle of Wyle Street with no expression on my face. I had no feeling in my body. I donât even remember if I was thinking or not. I was in a complete daze, and my whole system had shut down.
The first body they brought out was Gwenee. The fire marshal had her in his arms, and her body was limp. She didnât have any burn marks on her or anything, so she must have died from smoke inhalation. Liâl Gwenee was Gloriaâs only child, and when Gloria arrived on the scene and saw the fireman holding her dead child in his arms, she went off.
âGive me my child! Give me my child!â she screamed, fighting with the police and fire marshal who were trying to hold her back. She cried in pain for her child, and then her cry became angry blame.
âCookie, what the fuck did you do to my baby? What the fuck did you do?â She fell to the ground, scratching and kicking the police, screaming, âGet the fuck off me!â
The fire marshal then brought Mal-Mal out. The only way that I knew it was him was from the new Jordans he had on, because I had gotten them for him last week. His body was burned from head to toe. I was so fucked up at what I saw that all I could do was fall to my knees right there in the middle of the street and cry the loudest pain that I ever felt in my life.
Ms. Cookie fell unconscious and had to be hospitalized for a few days. All I could think about was Bilal and how he would take it.
Â
Â
I paid for Mal-Malâs funeral and wake because I had a little money from the niggas who still owed me in the street. I sold my 300ZX but kept my Rolex, and I had about twenty thousand to work with after the funeral and everything.
After we buried Mal-Mal, Ms. Cookie went into rehab, and I continued trying to get some money. I always felt in my heart that my life was indebted to Bilal for taking my murder rap, and I also felt somehow responsible for Mal-Malâs death. If I had only been there to help light those fireworks, Mal-Mal would never have tried to do it himself.
Â
Â
Sonya
Â
âOkay now, Mr. Lawyer, tell me where youâre from,â I said.
Jovan started smiling, and for a minute I thought he was blushing.
âWell, I grew up all
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