We lived in a big two-story, four-bedroom row home in southwest Philly. My mom had her own room, me and Alanna shared a room, and Bubbles and Bilal shared a room. John got his own because he was the oldest. He was never home; he always stayed with his friend Marcus.
I walked down the street toward my house. I saw all the lights on in my house. I knew my mom was going to go off; she must not be home. Most nights I beat her home. She usually made a stop at the Pearl Lounge on Woodland Avenue and had a drink after work. She always used to drink a beer or two, but when my dad left she started drinking more. I unlocked the door and walked into the house. The warmth greeted me at the door. It was nice and cozy. I rubbed my hands together, took off my coat, and hung it up in the closet. Bubbles’s and Bilal’s book bags and schoolwork were scattered everywhere.
“It is warm in here. What do you have this heat on?” I asked. Instead of waiting for an answer, I went to check the thermostat. It was up to ninety.
Bubbles came out of the kitchen with a wet stain on her shirt and said, “I thought you were Mommy.”
“Bubbles, why y’all got this heat up this high?” I asked.
“It was real cold when we came home from school.” Bubbles was short and chunky. She was already in women’s size-six pants. She had a little gut, and her breasts were coming in.
“Next time just turn it to seventy. It is baking in here. What are you doing?” I asked as I followed her into the kitchen. I looked around. I smelled food but didn’t see any.
“We was hungry. So I was making us something to eat,” she said as she tried to clean up the mess she had made. There were crumbles of Oodles of Noodles, water, and frozen hot dogs in a bowl in the microwave. Bilal was sitting at the table there with an empty bowl in front of him, waiting to eat.
“I put it in the microwave like Lana told us. But it’s not cooking right.”
“You know you not allowed to cook when no one is here.”
“I know. Lana is here.”
“Where is Alanna?”
“Upstairs,” Bilal said.
“Lana here and she wouldn’t cook y’all anything?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, she said she tired and have to study for a test,” Bilal said.
“Clean up this mess y’all made. Y’all know Mommy’s going to go off if she see this. I’ll cook y’all something.” I reached under the cabinet and grabbed a deep medium-size silver pot. I rinsed it out and then filled it with water. I let the water boil a little and added the pack of noodles and hot dogs. I told them to watch the pot as I ran up the steps to figure out why my sister couldn’t feed her brother and sister. I walked down the hall and pushed the door open. I looked in the room and there was prissy-ass Alanna with her hair pushed back with a yellow headband and wearing a yellow sweater. She was sitting on a pink comforter. Her shoes were off and her legs were crossed Indian style. She was talking on the phone while eating a Burger King Whopper. She looked at me as I entered the room, rolled her eyes, and continued with her conversation. I hated sharing a room with Alanna.
“When did you get this food?” I asked, standing over her. She took another bite of her sandwich and ignored me until I asked her again. She looked up at me and told whoever she was talking to that she was going to call them back.
“I bought it before I came in the house,” she said as she dipped a fry in ketchup off her plate.
“Really? You bought food and my little brother and sister downstairs are hungry?”
“I told Bubbles to make noodles. I have to study. They ain’t my kids.”
“You couldn’t make them anything to eat?” I asked.
“I didn’t feel like it. Mommy should have left them something to eat.”
“Oh, really? If you can’t make sure they eat, you not going to eat either, bitch,” I said as I smacked her burger out of her hand. The salt packets and ketchup splattered on her sweater. She jumped up and tried to swing on me, but I grabbed her by her hair and began punching her in her face. She pulled on my hair and began biting me on my chest. She was trying to scratch and punch me back.
“You fucking bitch, get off me,” I yelled.
“No, you get off me,” she shouted back.
“No, you get off me,” I said as I punched her one good time in the mouth. The kids ran up the steps.
“I think the noodles are ready,” Bubbles said.
“Why y’all fighting?” Bilal asked as he turned his head to the side to see who was winning.
She finally let me go. So I let her go.
“Stupid bitch,” I murmured.
“Your mother,” she said.
“Yours too!” I said as I went downstairs to feed the kids. I started straightening up the living room, and a few minutes later my brother John came in the house. He usually just came past to check his mail. He had moved in with Marcus when my mom said his girlfriend, Nitra, couldn’t spend the night.
“Where you been at? I tried to call you at Marcus’s house. You never there,” I said.
“I be between Nitra’s and Marcus’s. Nitra’s mom don’t really want me staying there, but Nitra don’t like it too much at Marcus’s. We trying to save up for our own place. Where Mommy at?” he asked.
“She didn’t get in here yet?” Alanna came from upstairs and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing. We was just fighting ’cause she was sittin’ up there eating and didn’t feed the kids.”
“Y’all need to grow up.”
“Whatever. She started with me.”
“Man, y’all got to cut that dumb mess out.”
Bilal ran down the steps and screamed, “John!”
They started play boxing.
“Can I have your room since you’re never here?” Bilal asked.
“No, you can’t have my room. Man, where I’m going to sleep?”
“What about your PlayStation?”
“You can play with it, but you got to make sure you take care of it. Okay, man,” John said as he flipped him upside down and knuckled him in the head. Bilal laughed and kept trying to fight him. He was punching him and kicking. Then he started coughing real hard and gasping for air.
“You know you can’t play too rough with him,” I said. “Bubbles, go get his asthma medicine.” She ran up the steps, then came back down with his inhaler. We sat him down and I pumped once.
“You need to calm down,” I scolded him. “John, you shouldn’t have got him all worked up.” As soon as I said that, Bilal jumped back up and punched John real hard in the stomach.
John bowed over and said, “All right, you won, Bilal. You got me. I’m leaving. I’m out of here,” he said playfully.
“Okay, see you,” I said as he walked toward the door.
“Tell Mommy to call me.”
“I will.”
Bubbles and Bilal ate and cleaned the table off. I did the dishes and then began doing my math homework. Math was my worst subject. Most days I would look the answers up in the back of the book and copy off somebody else’s before class. I got Cs, and I called them good enoughs. Instead