Bang! by Sharon Flake

won’t die.” My father patted Kee-lee on the shoulder and told him to come on. “Food’s cold now. And I’m sleepy.”
    “Don’t go!”
    “Men don’t . . .”
    “I ain’t no man!”
    My father put the brown bag under his arm and kept walking. “Kee-lee. Do like I say, boy.”
    Kee-lee hunched his shoulders and followed my dad. The boy skipped after them. Before long, the sky was dark except for the stars and the moon. Things crawled over my fingers and walked on my head. They whistled, and they clicked like the hands on a stopwatch, and they scratched like a mouse in a drawer. I reached for another branch. Stretched my leg out and stepped down onto a limb that cracked like an old egg. I was falling, feeling sticks dig into my ankles and arms and rip holes in my shirt and shorts.
    But I didn’t hit the ground. I held tight to another branch. I stepped down, stepped over, stepped on branches. I heard owls. I heard things sliding across water, hopping in the grass, and listening like they was gonna tell what they heard later on. I leaned on the tree trunk. Held it tight. Reached my foot way down. Grabbed a branch. Stepped over two more. Wiped a six-legged black bug off my arm. Kicked at a squirrel that wouldn’t get out my way. I held on to the tree trunk. Slid down. Scratched my face. Jumped to the ground.
    It was pitch-black out, but up the road just a little, I saw campfires, and lanterns hanging from campers. I brushed wood off my clothes and out my hair. Wiped blood off my face and felt around for bumps and bites I got all over me. Then I headed for the light, walking slow; dipping low like the men round my way always do.

Chapter 24
    “SHOOT!”
I close my eyes, point the gun, and almost
squeeze the trigger. “I—I—can’t.”
Kee-lee runs up to me. “Let me shoot. I ain’t
scared.”
    We are outside the campgrounds, in the woods. My father is sitting on a stump, shaking his head at me. He makes me step aside so Kee-lee can take his turn.
    Kee-lee licks his lips. “All ri-i-ight.” He closes one eye. “I always wanted to pop a cap in somebody.” He holds both arms straight and tight, and points the gun at the target my father made—a head made of stuffed newspaper, with blueberry eyes and sticks for hair.
    Bang!
    My ears ring. Bang! My eyes close. Bang, bang, bang! I’m watching Jason in that little white casket, in that little white suit—smiling. “I’ll be back,” I say, running into the woods.
    Kee-lee’s right behind me. “You shoulda done it. It was sweet.”
    I bend down and pick up a daddy longlegs. “I don’t like guns.” He crawls up my finger.
    “You ain’t gotta like a gun to shoot one.”
    Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
    Kee-lee runs. “Let’s see if your dad killed something.” He stops when he sees I ain’t moving. “He mighta got a raccoon.” He’s up the road and back before I take a step. “He just blew the face off the paper head is all.”
    I sit it in the grass and set the daddy longlegs free. “Moo Moo . . .”
    Kee-lee sticks sunflower seeds in his mouth. “Moo Moo’s dead.” He takes his arm and holds it out. Closes his eyes and shoots. “If he had a gun, he would still be living.”
    “Jason . . .”
    “Why you all the time gotta talk about dead people?” He spits the shells out. Then he tells me that I’m lucky to have a father trying to teach me how to protect myself.
    I walk behind a gray rabbit hopping into the bushes. Kee-lee follows me, only not too close. He says he’s sorry Moo Moo’s gone. “But I ain’t dead. Don’t wanna die neither.”
    The rabbit looks back at me, shakes like it’s wet, and runs. Kee-lee says he don’t wanna hurt me, but he’s gonna if I don’t stop playing with critters. He pushes back some bushes. Bends down low. Grabs a rock. “Let’s knock it out and then shoot it.”
    It’s a baby rabbit, so I catch it quick, and tell Keelee to carry it back. He’s scared, like I figured. So I turn the rabbit