Read Caught Up for Free Online Page A

it’s an obvious answer.
    She smiles. “Then you can hang out and chill here.”
    â€œIt’s not the same,” I argue. “It’s boring here.”
    She tilts her head. “And why is that? Because there’ll be supervision? Because you won’t be able to crawl yourself up in here all hours of the day and night, like your cousins do?”
    I huff. It’s obvious this conversation is going nowhere. She’s not going to ever let me stay any more than an hour over there. So I might as well let it go.
    You can always sneak over there while they’re at work.
    Yeah, that’s true. They’d never know.
    Yeah, right. Aunt Tiny would love nothing more than to have something to smear in Mom’s face.
    I sigh, deflated and defeated. Until I can devise a plan to get out of this castle of boredom, I’ll simply have to grin and bear it. For now, anyway.
    â€œNever mind,” I say, folding my arms. “Forget I even asked.”

5
    â€œN ext customer, please,” I quickly say, scanning the crowded area the minute I am logged in to my register. It’s Friday night. And the mall is always packed on Friday nights, especially since the food court is where most of the kids from the area hang out, along with the fact that it’s right across from the entrance to the AMC movie theater. So it’s extra busy up in here. And my feet are killing me.
    I sigh, taking the next customer’s order, then the next.
    â€œUh, Special K , you might wanna help get this line movin’ a li’l faster,” this girl Sasha Green says, popping her chewing gum as she breezes by me. She calls me Special K because “you’re real special,” she’d said to me, smirking as she looked me up and down my first day here, after I’d held out my hand and introduced myself to her. “Hi, I’m Kennedy.”
    She stared at my outstretched hand, turning her nose up as if I had dog poop caked up beneath my fingernails. “And I’m not interested.” She turned her head, shifting her body. Her rudeness was not expected, nor was it warranted. But after a month of working here I realize that’s who and what she is. Rude.
    She tosses her hips real hard and nasty-like to make her booty shake and bounce as she walks. Rumor around here is, she doesn’t wear any underwear. Yuck. How nasty is that? Coming to work without underwear on. She’s the shift tramp. The bossy, messy, always-trying-to-be-someone’s-supervisor, who never has anything nice to say about anyone except herself.
    Sasha’s a little older than me, like eighteen. But she acts like she’s a grown woman in her twenties. And she always has something snide to say to me. Still . . . I don’t let anything she says or does bother me. Not really.
    â€œNext in line, please,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes at her. I hold my breath, looking over at an obnoxious group of guys standing one line over, all wearing white tees, True Religions, fitted hats, and the new Lebrons on their feet. They’re loud, rude, and... disgustingly vulgar. Well . . . not all of them.
    â€œYo, suck on dis sac, mofo,” the dark skinned guy with a thick neck says to one of the guys with him while grabbing the front of his baggy jeans.
    His boys laugh at him. “Yo, this cat right here,” the brown skinned guy with long, shoulder-length dreadlocks says, shaking his head. “You stay tryna get someone to suck up on sumthin’. Let me find out you a freak.”
    â€œYeah, I’m freakin’ ya moms, son.” He starts rapidly thrusting his pelvis. “Bam, bam, bam. I stays knockin’ dat down. I’m ya new daddy, muhfuckka.” He laughs.
    â€œYeah, a’ight, yo,” Locks says. “Don’t get ya chin checked, fam. I done tol’ you ’bout dat dumb ish, yo.” He mushes Thick Neck on the side of the head, causing him to go into a boxing