Not that Scout’s my name. Just the name Granddaddy call whoever sittin in the navigator seat.
Like when the big boys come up on us talkin bout Lemme a nickel. It’s me that hide the money. Or when the bad boys in the park take Big Brood’s Spaudeen way from him. It’s me that jump on they back and fight awhile. And it’s me that turns out the show if the matron get too salty.
Grownups figure they can treat you just anyhow. Which burns me up.
Cause I realize that just about anybody in my family is better than this god they always talkin about. My daddy wouldn’t stand for nobody treatin any of us that way. My mama specially.
And now I'm really furious cause I get so tired grownups messin over kids just cause they little and can’t take em to court.
And cause my Mama come up there in a minute when them teachers start playin the dozens behind colored folks. She stalk in with her hat pulled down bad and that Persian lamb coat draped back over one hip on account of she got her fist planted there so she can talk that talk which gets us all hypnotized, and teacher be comin undone cause she know this could be her job and her behind cause Mama got pull with the Board and bad by her own self anyhow.
My Daddy had the suspect it was me cause Big Brood got a big mouth. But I explained right quick what the whole thing was about and I figured it was even-steven. Cause if you say Gorilla, My Love, you suppose to mean it. […] I mean even gangsters in the movies say My word is my bond. So don’t nobody get away with nothin far as I’m concerned.
So Daddy put his belt back on. Cause that’s the way I was raised. Like my Mama say in one of them situations when I won’t back down, Okay Badbird, you right. Your point is well-taken. Not that Badbird my name, just what she say when she tired arguin and know I’m right.
“My name is Hazel. And what I mean is you said you were going to marry me when I grew up. You were going to wait. That’s what I mean, my dear Uncle Jefferson.”
“Well, for cryin out loud, Hazel, you just a little girl. And I was just teasin.”
“Look here, Precious, it was Hunca Bubba what told you them things. This here, Jefferson Winston Vale.”
And I’m losin my bearins and don’t even know where to look on the map cause I can’t see for cryin. And Baby Jason cryin too. Cause he is my blood brother and understands that we must stick together or be forever lost, what with grown-ups playin change-up and turnin you round every which way so bad. And don’t even say they sorry.
