Crackhead by Lisa Lennox Page B

care for her, but that wasn’t the case.
    Tonette actually admired Laci. That was why she pulled her into the crew in the first place. Laci was polite and very pleasant to be around. She was the young lady that none of her dusty friends could ever even fathom becoming. It was this same admiration for Laci that often made Tonette despise her.
    Laci came from a nice home and had loving parents. Tonette had been running the streets since she could remember. No one ever gave a shit about her, especially not her drunken-ass mother. Ever since her father had left, all her mother cared about was the bottle and getting a shot of dick here and there. Tonette took to the streets and had a reputation for being one of the toughest female pushers in the South Bronx. Her mother didn’t care, as long as she got a check for her twice a month. Unable to find love at home, Tonette found it in the money she was making and finally with Dame, the hustler who’d taken her under his wing and into his home.
    Sometimes just looking at Laci or watching her interact with her mother made Tonette want to break down in tears. There were times when she would close her eyes and imagine that Margaret was her mother. She would fantasize about them staying up till all hours of the night having girly talks. Then when she opened her eyes, reality would set in. “Fuck that bitch,” Tonette said, downing the rest of her drink.
    LACI COULDN’T GET off the train soon enough. The ride from the Bronx to Harlem was a less-than-pleasant one. When she left Crystal’s house she was fine, but after being on the train for a fewminutes she began to feel sick. Her stomach began to cramp and she became light-headed.
    When the train reached 145th Street, she was all too happy to get off. The musty, graffiti-tagged train had done nothing to alleviate her nausea. She jogged up the stairs and was greeted by the brisk night air, music, cars honking their horns, and folks carrying on like it was a nonstop party. Slowly, Laci’s head began to clear and she realized that she was starving. She had been at Crystal’s all day and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She should have eaten that fried bologna sandwich when she had the chance.
    Laci took a detour toward Broadway to grab a bite from the diner. She crossed Amsterdam Avenue and was halfway to Broadway when she had a brilliant idea. I bet my food would taste better if I smoked another joint. She made a left and headed back toward St. Nicholas, where she remembered Tonette taking her to a corner store that sold weed in the back. Unsure about which one of the four corner stores at the intersection was the weed spot, Laci slowly walked up to the one with the most dope rides and smooth-looking cats in front. I know I look stupid. I just hope they don’t notice me , she thought as she tried to figure out how she was going to slip past the circle of guys and into the store.
    â€œYo, son, you trying to tell me that LL Cool J is better than Rakim? You trippin’,” said the guy wearing a green Fila sweat suit. A huge radio was blasting Eric B. & Rakim’s “My Melody.” The guys, all local hustlers, met up every Saturday night to discuss business, joke, and show off their new cars, clothes, and hoes.
    â€œDamn right, LL is the man. He straight slayed Kool Moe Dee. He’s a monster.” The other guys stood and watched this heated debate.
    â€œMan, you buggin’. Word is bond, you need to get yo’ headchecked and shape up that fucked-up Gumby while you at it.” The whole circle erupted in laughter. Laci took this as her only in. As they cracked up, bent over in tears, she sneaked behind them and into the store like a superhero, but with no agenda. She couldn’t just walk up to the counter and ask for a nickel bag. Trying to decide what to do, she paced the floor looking for something to purchase. To her surprise, the racks of chips were half empty and what