I waved Chris goodbye from the door.
Shut it behind me and got in, clicking my tongue. "So, Rick was arrested," I muttered. "That idiot. We live in a neighborhood full of black rich folk. What was he doing, robbing a store?"
I stopped at the first-floor door and panicked. "Shit—Dad. I forgot about dad. He's probably pissed."
I thought about it for two seconds and turned for the stairs instead. "Yeah, I'm heading to my room. I'll deal with him later."
I was near the second floor, when I spotted Ty walking down the stairs.
"Ty," I called out.
No response. "Did he even hear me?"
Something was wrong.
He stared at his feet, taking each step like it could betray him, gripping the railing like it was his only support.
Then, he let go, seconds away from falling.
I rushed to his side and grabbed him before he did.
"Kyra?" he said, voice weak.
Kyra? I looked at the floor above me. What was he doing in Kyra's room? I shook it off, turned to Ty. "Are you okay, bro."
Then he got heavier. He passed out. "Come on, bro," I said shaking him. "Wake up."
After a few tries, I got him to our room. Luckily, it was the first door after the second-floor landing, because he was dead weight. Getting him onto the bed wasn't easy either.
I threw a sheet over him, then pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. That's what adults do when you're sick, right?
It was hotter than it should be. "It's worse than I thought." I thought it through, and then told him, "Don't worry bro. I'll be back with help."
I left the room and took the stairs down the first floor.
I don't know why, but Dad was my last hope.
I stood in front of his office and knocked, louder than I meant to.
"I don't care if you scold me. I'm just worried about my brother."
It cracked open, slowly revealing a displeased… Uncle Elroy?
Why him?
It didn't matter, he was still an adult—he can do something.
"Don't knock like the police, boy! What if your father was—"
I yanked him back before he could continue.
He stumbled, caught himself, and asked, "Hey, what's up with you?"
"Just come with!" I said yanking harder.
We passed the living room.
Then—
In the hallway, I heard a knock from the door, louder than mine.
Uncle Elroy broke free of my grip and walked toward it.
"Wait," I called out, "let's ignore it."
"You were headed for the door weren't you? Let me see who it is before we do your thing."
"Okay fine, be quick because Ty…" I paused. He must have not known Darius's nickname, Ty, so I said, "Darius is sick."
He nodded and opened the door, revealing two cops.
"May I help you officers?" Uncle Elroy asked.
"Elroy Kincaid," one said, holding up papers with Uncle Elroy's face on them. "We've got a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Frederick Presley. Resist, and the charges against you will be added on."
My eyes narrowed in disbelief. My Uncle wasn't a murderer. I know it.
"There must have been a misunderstanding." He fought for his innocence as well. "Ask this community, I've never committed a crime in my life."
"They all say that," the cop said, pulling out his handcuffs.
"No! My uncle's innocent!" I screamed. I reacted instantly and charged.
The cop kicked me hard in the stomach before I got close. I rolled away, stopping in agony.
"I hate you, stupid little nigger!" he said, looking down at me, voice cold. "Always think you can protect Daddy. Well get this, you aren't doing shit for—"
Uncle Elroy raised his hand. "Stop it. You came for me, right? Leave him out of it."
"Tsk. Fine," the cop said, glancing back, "Come with us."
"Josh," Uncle Elroy called out to me. "Don't worry about it. Just tell your father. I'm sure he'll figure something out,"
I nodded, holding back tears as they walked away.
Once they were gone, I let them out, punching the floorboard. "Damn," I muttered, voice trembling. "I'm pathetic."