Bucket

Karlie Allen
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010

When I sleep, I dream about another life. A better life, I dream about getting out of here and making a name for myself. KYLE! GET UP THE ROOF IS LEAKING!

I awake to my mother standing over me yelling for me to get the bucket. Why couldn’t she just get it? (I’ve got to get out of here, but how?)

I look out my window and see my friends Alex and James on the corner. (Man, Look at those kicks they got on, and whoo-whoo that Car! I could go anywhere with a car like that!)
That’s why I start work today.

I rush out my house, past my mother’s complaining to go chill with my boys. We give eachother dap, exchanging drugs like we had rehearsed. It feels like gold in my hand. I post up on the block and wait.

A car rolls by, I see the guys eyes in his rearview mirror looking back at me. He stops and backs up to me. “You got that sugar?” he says.

“Whose asking?”

(I let out a sigh, thinking to myself what Alex and James told me how to act.)
Those were my boys, they told me that a crew sticks it out together and never leaves a soldier behind.

The man snaps his fingers, bringing me back.

“I said, I have a sweet tooth and it’s aching for some sugar,” he pleads.
I pass him the 5 gram bag as he gets ready to hand me my money.
He grabs my wrist and says, “You’re under arrest!” Alex and James flee, I call their names but they don’t even look back.

I’m left alone.

Now I’m at the station with a public defender that keeps calling me Steve. Steve! Who is Steve!?!
The officer from the car says I’m facing 5 years minimum! Damn, I should of gotten that bucket.