We chased that girl for a whole week. When we caught her, we dragged her down a few flights of stairs in the side stairway. Meka learned how to box somewhere and was straight up punching her like she Tyson. Then somebody said, let Stace in there, and they pushed me on her, and I knew that I had to show and prove. I could read the look on her face, begging me not to hurt her. I dismissed that shit so fast and punched her in the mouth. When I saw blood, I was proud. I hit her again, next time in the stomach, and then I really got into it, fucking her up like she was a punching bag.

Then my friend Valencia bumped me to the side with her hip, real quick and sexy, and her hand slid through the air like she painting, then I saw the red running down the side of Tonya face, then across her forehead, covering her swollen eyes. Peach clocked her one last time, and she fell down in the corner. We ran up a few floors before opening the door, then walked down the porch, trying to be regular.

Somebody went back and shot her. I bet it was Meka. Everybody knew she had a pistol, and that girl was crazy. She went to jail the day of the raid too. Peach told me she got stabbed in there and died.

That day I ran into Fe Fe at the jail, I saw the way she looked at me, how she wanted to ask me about Tonya. Even though I ain’t do nothing but hit her a few times, I couldn’t talk about it yet.

I did want to beat her ass, but she ain’t deserved to die or nothing. That shit still haunt me every day. I don’t know why she bothered me so much. Maybe I was jealous of her. Maybe I thought I was better than her. All I know is that now I want to take that shit back.

If I could do it all over again, I would’ve stayed my ass on the three with Precious and Fe Fe, instead of trying to run with my sisters and they crazy ass friends.

Thirty-Five
Snapshots

When I told Mama about Tonya, she reached for me, held me like I was a child again.

We mourned for Tonya’s sweet spirit, and the fact that she never had a chance with no daddy and Rochelle as her mama.

Mama let me go and went to grab an old photo album. She flipped to a picture that I’d long forgotten about; it was a snapshot of me and my three friends from that day we went to the fireworks. “Let’s remember her like this,” she said.