The Return of Buddy Bush by Shelia P. Moses Page A

that colored folks really own Harlem. I love it here already. A colored woman inside the store who just walked up to the window, she’s smiling at me. I smile back and wave. She looking like she ain’t got much time for children, so I better not ask her about Uncle Buddy. I think I’ll just go in and look at all the pretty clothes.
    I walk inside and before I know it, the woman standing over me. She smells like grandma’s rose garden.
    â€œGood morning, young lady. Can I help you?”
    â€œNo, ma’am, I’m just looking at the pretty dresses.”
    â€œThat’s just fine, but what are you doing walking the streets alone?”
    â€œWell, my sister is at work and I thought I would take a walk.”
    â€œTaking a walk? You must be from the South.”
    â€œYes, ma’am, I am. But how did you know that?”
    â€œBecause, honey, up here folks don’t let their children walk the streets alone day or night.”
    â€œBut why not?”
    â€œWhy not? Child, this ain’t down home. This is the big city. Now you go on home and wait for your sister to get off work.”
    Everyone here is just as bossy as the people down home. I go back on the street.
    That lady ain’t my ma and she don’t know my ma, so I ain’t going home just cause she say so. I’m just going to walk until I get tired. Uncle Buddy probably ain’t found no job that quick, so he mightbe out here walking the streets too. He could have on a hat and glasses so that people will not know who he is. But I will know him no matter what he is wearing.
    Every store looks different. Filled with everything from candles to plants and furniture. One store here has more stuff than all the stores in Rich Square got put together.
    I’m getting hungry. My chocolate drops wore off so maybe I better head home for something to eat. Then I’ll go out again later to keep on looking for Uncle Buddy.
    It don’t take me long to get back to the apartment. I use the key that BarJean gave me this morning and go through the front door of the building as I pray Miss Sylvine don’t see me. Lord, I’m glad to be back inside. Its almost as hot walking the streets of Harlem as it is working in the fields. Well, not quite.
    I think I will just make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. BarJean sure do keep a lot of food in her pantry. She probably don’t want me to say pantry. Lets see. What word can I use forpantry? Maybe closet will do. I will ask Miss City BarJean when she gets home. Right now I just want to sleep for a minute before lunch.
    I was going to go back out to look for Uncle Buddy again, but when I woke up, BarJean was putting her key in the front door. I guess I was tired after all. I’ll start again tomorrow.

8
South of Baltimore
    F or a whole week I get up every day and do the same thing. Walk and look, look and walk. BarJean does the same thing every day too. She gets up and has her coffee, get dressed, and she is out the door to work at the factory. She said when Saturday comes she is going to take me to buy some fabric to make my new school clothes. And she said she is going to get my hair pressed and maybe even let me get my ears pierced. Ma ain’t going to like that. Ma ain’t never had her ears pierced. She said if God wanted us to have asecond hole in our ears for earrings he would have put two there, not one! I will worry about Ma when I get back home. While I’m here I’m going to do everything I can to look like a city girl. Ain’t no need to come all the way up here and go home looking like you still a field hand.
    And while I’m getting citified I will keep looking for my uncle.
    But he ain’t nowhere to be found. Nowhere!
    â€œGood morning, little lady,” a man in a white shirt says as I walk past his shoeshine stand.
    â€œGood morning, sir.”
    He smiles and keeps on shining the black shoes of a man who is dressed like he