Miracle's Boys by Jacqueline Woodson

Charlie?” Ty’ree asked. We turned onto Thirteenth Street.
    I shrugged. “And say what?”
    â€œYou know, just talk. Say w’s up. Ask him how his life is going. What kind of things he likes to do. Stuff like that.”
    â€œI know where his life is going—down the toilet.”
    Ty’ree eyed me. “Maybe he knows you think that and that’s why he acts the way he does.”
    I felt myself starting to shake. I hated when Ty’ree did this. “It’s not my fault!” I said. “Everything ain’t my fault, all right?”
    Some people turned to look at me, but I didn’t care. I started walking fast down Thirteenth Street, past the Quad. Ty’ree was somewhere behind me. I didn’t care. I hoped he would turn into dust. Hoped he would disappear. Forever and ever amen. I sniffed. I could feel tears running down my nose.
    â€œLafayette!” Ty’ree’s hand was on my shoulder, yanking me around.
    â€œIt ain’t my fault,” I said, my voice choking up in the back of my throat. “He burned all of Mama’s pictures!” I felt cold suddenly, cold and sweaty at the same time. I hated Newcharlie and I hated Ty’ree. I wanted to be dead. Dead like Mama. Maybe I’d die of hypothermia. Then it’d just be the two of them in that house, every day thinking about what they could have done to keep me alive.
    â€œJust sat in the window and lit a match to them and let the little—” I gulped. I couldn’t catch my breath. “He... he let the little fires float down.”
    A man with a little girl looked at us, then grabbed the little girl’s hand and crossed the street.
    â€œHe didn’t mean it, Lafayette.” Ty’ree kept his hand on my shoulder. When I tried to jerk away, he held tighter. “It was just his way—”
    â€œThose two pictures I got are the only ones left.” I hated Newcharlie. Hated him. “Wish he’d never come home. Least then we’d have some other pictures.”
    â€œI know,” he said. “I know.”
    I felt myself sagging into Ty‘ree like he was a wall, felt him put his arms around me. “Then he got the nerve to put plants in all the windows, Ty’ree. Like plants was gonna change something.”
    â€œI know, Laf,” Ty’ree kept saying. “I know.”
    â€œHe’s all bad, T,” I cried. “And you’re all good and I ain’t nothing.”
    Ty’ree let out a little laugh. “Nah, Lafayette. Charlie ain’t all bad. And you know you got it going on.” He was quiet for a moment. “And I... I definitely am not all good.”
    I was getting colder and colder. Ty’ree kept his arms around me to keep me from shivering.
    â€œBrother to brother, Lafayette?”
    I nodded. “B to B,” I whispered. It was something Ty’ree had started saying right after Mama died. It meant I love you, but we’d never really said that to each other. He’d said brother to brother meant that and then some. It meant we’d be there for each other, no matter what.
    â€œHey, let’s bag the movie and go get something hot to drink, okay?” Ty’ree said.
    â€œYeah. Let’s.” Ty‘ree kept his arm around my shoulder as we walked back toward Sixth Avenue. We went into a coffee shop on the corner of Sixth and Tenth. There weren’t that many people in it, and me and Ty’ree took seats in the back. There was soft music playing and a couple of people sitting at tables writing in notebooks and on laptop computers. I ordered a hot chocolate and an apple Danish, and Ty‘ree ordered coffee. He handed me his napkin, and I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I felt tired. Tired and empty, and even with Ty’ree right across the table from me, I felt a little bit alone.
    Our stuff came and Ty’ree started talking. I picked at my Danish, hoping he’d tell me