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and turned the key: The main gate eats itself up   PoleFace TM  from a face-out rack way up on   5
                  as it rolls into the ceiling.              the wall. “Thanks,” he growls when I throw the
                     “Get out of here!” I yell to Richard. He runs   jacket in his face.
                  to the register where he’ll be backup to the   I jump down from the cabin and swing   15
                  backup safe.                               the reach around so none of them can get too
                     Maybe eighty people rush through the gate,   close. The long rod whistles in the air. Most of   Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah
                  clawing and stampeding. Pushing racks and   the customers can’t speak in real words; the
                  bodies aside. Have you ever seen people run   Friday Black has already taken most of their
                  from a fire or gunshots? It’s like that, with less   minds. Still, so many of them are the same. I
                  fear and more hunger. From my cabin, I see a   grab two medium fleeces without anyone asking
                  child, a girl maybe six years old, disappear as the   for them because I know somebody wants one.
                  wave of consumer fervor swallows her up. She is   They howl and scream: daughter, son, girlfriend,
                  sprawled facedown with dirty shoe prints on her   husband, friend, ME, daughter, son. I throw one
                  pink coat. Lance walks up to the small pink body.   of the fleeces toward the registers and one toward
                  He’s pulling a pallet jack and holding a huge   the back wall. The crowd splits. Near the registers,
                  push broom. He thrusts the broom head into her   a woman in her thirties takes off her heel and
                  side and tries to sweep her onto the pallet jack   smashes a child in the jaw with it just before he
                  so he can roll her to the section we’ve designated   can grab the fleece. She inspects the tag, sees it’s
                  for bodies. As he touches her, a woman wearing   a medium, then throws it down on top of the boy
                  a gray scarf pushes him away and yanks the girl   with a heel-size hole in his cheek. I toss two large
                  to her feet. I imagine the mother explaining that   fleeces and two medium fleeces into the crowds.
                  her tiny daughter isn’t dead yet. She pulls the   Then I deal with the customers who can still
                  little girl toward me. The girl limps and tries to   speak, who are nudging and pushing around me.
                  keep up, and then I have to forget about them.  “C-C-COAL BUBBLE. SMALL, ME! COAL!”
                     “Blue! Son! SleekPack!” a man with wild   a man says while beating his chest. I’m the only
                  eyes and a bubble vest screams as he grabs my   one at work who doesn’t have a Coalmeister! How
                  left ankle. White foam drips from his mouth.   can I be a senior advisor without? The only one!
                  I use my right foot to stomp his hand, and I feel   I press the end of my reach against his
                  his fingers crush beneath my boots. He howls,   neck to keep his hungry mouth from me. Then,
                  “SleekPack. Son!” while licking his injured   without taking my eyes off him, I grab one of the
                  hand. I look him in his eyes, deep red around   Coalmeister bubble coats from the rack behind
                  his lids, redder at the corners. I understand   me. And then it’s in his hands. He hugs the coat
                  him perfectly. What he’s saying is this: My   and runs to the register.
                  son. Loves me most on Christmas. I have him   “Us? US!” the woman with the gray scarf says.
                  holidays. Me and him. Wants the one thing.   She has large gold earrings hanging off the sides of
                  Only thing. His mother won’t. On me. Need to   her head. The pink-coat child is at her shins. The
                  feel like Father!                          child’s face is bruised, but she isn’t crying at all.
                     Ever since that first time, since the bite, I   “Can’t. The Stuy!” Gray scarf’s husband says.
                  can speak Black Friday. Or I can understand it,   Family time needs forty-two-inch high-def. The
                  at least. Not fluently, but well enough. I have   BuyStuy deal is only while supplies last! Can’t
                  some of them in me. I hear the people, the sizes,   afford any other day.
                  the model, the make, and the reason. Even if all   Black Friday takes everybody differently. It’s   20
                  they’re doing is foaming at the mouth. I use my   rough on families. They can’t always hear what l
                  reach and pull a medium-size blue SleekPack   hear.
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                     Copyright © 2021 by Bedford, Freeman & Worth High School Publishers. Uncorrected proofs have been used in this sample chapter.
                       Distributed by by Bedford, Freeman & Worth High School Publishers. Strictly for use with its products. Not for redistribution.



          AufsesALR1e_24889_ch05_002_097.indd   55                                                   5/4/2020   3:58:07 PM
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