The Get Over Read Online Free Page A

mob. They have settled for less and we are still hoping to be more. We haven’t created a huge space, and we haven’t escaped the huge shadow they cast. Our scent is no different from theirs, but we have separated ourselves. I think Twig is on the brink of being a great runner. One day, I hope, I will write a poem, or an essay, or a novel, that will change hearts. But the mob doesn’t want us to be different. They want us to find our spots on the corner, or on a stoop. They beckon to us and tell us that everything will be okay.
    But I’m terrified to be like them, to drift off into a world that is so unreal. I watched too many times as my father slurred his words and mumbled about the life he had once hoped for. I see my mom sitting in the darkness wondering what has gone wrong with her life.
    â€œYou’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Darius,” Mr. Ramey said. “But you haven’t really been doing the work, have you?”
    I didn’t answer. What did he want, an admission? Should I have bowed my head and said, “Oh, I know I don’t deserve anything, sir”?
    â€œAnd why do you have to go away to college?” he went on. “You could work during the day and go to school at night for a while.”
    â€œNo,” I wanted to say. “I can’t take care of myself and my mother and my brother and still wrap my head around the books. I’m not that strong. The only thing I have is a mind, and some writing ability. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
    When I left Mr. Ramey’s office, I saw Midnight and Tall Boy down the hall. Put faces to my misery and they would have them.
    Midnight, from his incredibly stupid heart to his heavy-legged walk, more stumble than stride, is garbage. He is slow, mean, a bully. If he can make anyone’s life miserable, even for a few minutes, he jumps at the chance. The teachers hate him but give him as much room as they can so they don’t have to deal with him. They look away when he hits a smaller kid in the hallway or takes someone’s money. His eyes, almost the same color as his skin, make him look like a child’s drawing of a “brown” teenager.
    Tall Boy is his homey. Dull-faced, slow, with light, mottled skin that looks like he might have some kind of sickness, he has only his record of being in juvenile detention to brag about.
    â€œI been in jail in Jersey City, and in the Bronx!”
    Idiots don’t know they’re idiots, which is unfortunate.
    Tall Boy is crappy, a follower, but nobody is as much of a shithead as Midnight.
    The bell rang and the juniors were going to have an assembly. The auditorium was noisy as we shuffled in. I didn’t want to sit with Twig because I felt so bad, so close to crying. I sat a few rows behind him.
    I watched as Midnight and Tall Boy looked around for a place and then settled behind Twig. We had just finished saying the Pledge of Allegiance when Midnight started kicking the back of Twig’s chair. I knew he would do it all through the assembly. Twig turned once and Midnight mean mugged him. That’s the kind of stuff he does. Just bother people. Just add some annoyance to another person’s life. Just remind Twig that there’s nothing he can do about it.
    Midnight’s name is Ronald Brown. He calls himself Midnight because, he says, that’s when they execute people on death row. You’re supposed to fall out over that little piece of crap. I didn’t fall out.
    Tall Boy’s real name is Lawrence Lester. He’s a fairly good basketball player but doesn’t have the discipline to play on a team. Everybody keeps talking about how much potential he has, but I don’t think he has anything going on except a lousy attitude.
    Both of them add up to nothing.
    Twig’s real name is Manuel Fernandez, but his grandfather gave him the nickname Twig. When we were in the fourth grade, Twig and I discovered that we did stuff.