Bang! by Sharon Flake Page A

loose. “You too scared to carry it, but you wanna kill it. That ain’t right.”
    The rabbit runs under a bush. Me and Kee-lee go back to my dad. My palms are sweaty. The tip of my nose is wet. My throat is so dry, words won’t come out. So I just hold out my hand, and tell it to quit shaking, when my father puts the loaded gun in it.
    “Morning,” the man in the camper across from us says. He’s old. White and old and full of questions my father ain’t up to answering. So that means me and Kee-lee gotta talk to him and his wife.
    He’s sitting in a green lawn chair with his pink, wrinkled legs spread open. “Been camping before?”
    I dump coals on the grill. “No.”
    “No? Well, you haven’t lived then.”
    He and his wife got on matching shorts. Blue veins run up and down her legs like lines on the map we used to get here. “We already ate. Pancakes, sausage, eggs . . .”
    Her husband walks over and starts lighting our grill, even though I ain’t ask him to. “Hot black coffee first thing in the morning while you’re camping. Now, you can’t beat that.”
    My father is reading the sports section, acting like them people ain’t here.
    “They got any stores around here?” Kee-lee asks. “I want some orange soda and a glazed doughnut.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out one little sunflower seed. “Mr. Adler, I need some seeds.”
    “Oh,” the old lady says, holding on to the chair and trying to stand up. “I have some. Lots.”
    Her feet hardly leave the ground when she walks, so dirt follows her wherever she goes. “Told you I had plenty,” she says coming back outside and handing Kee-lee a fat brown bag.
    He’s smiling. Digging his fingers in the bag. “Thanks,” he says, throwing seeds in his mouth. “Ill! What’s these?” He drops the bag and seeds fly. “Bird seed? I don’t want no bird seeds.”
    The old man’s name is Ralph. He laughs. Walks over to my father and asks if he can sit down. The old lady’s name is Sara. She tells Kee-lee they ain’t for eating. “They’re for the birds.”
    Sara sits back down. I take out one of my mother’s frying pans and set it on the grill. Kee-lee spoons lard in the pan, since we forgot butter. I crack open five eggs, stir them up with salt and pepper, and pour them in the pan. Next thing I know, black smoke is covering the pan and choking my dad and Ralph. The pan is too hot, so in a few minutes, our eggs look like bubbly black tar.
    Ralph thinks everything’s funny. “Won’t be the last time you burn your food out here. Camping takes some getting used to.”
    My father shakes his head. “No breakfast, I guess.”
    “We have lots of eggs,” Ralph says.
    My dad talks real low so Ralph don’t hear. “A black boy don’t get a hundred chances to get it right.
    Sometimes he just gets one. That’s it.” The veins on the side of his head push out. “You blow your chance, you blow your life.”
    Kee-lee opens the truck door and looks inside. “I’m hungry. Where’s the peanut butter?”
    Them old people won’t stay out of our business. Sara lets us know she’s got leftover sausage and plenty of cinnamon toast and warm honey.
    I look at my dad. “No, thanks,” I say, even though cinnamon toast is my favorite.
    Kee-lee walks over to her. “I want some.”
    He’s gonna catch it, I’m thinking. But Sara’s kicking up dust again. Holding out her hand so Kee-lee can help her. Ralph is right behind them. “Come on in,” he says, waving me and my dad over. “We’ve got plenty of room inside.”
    My father tells him no. He wants me and him to go fishing instead. Kee-lee’s in the camper. I’m headed for the truck, pulling out our rusted fishing rods. Listening to Ralph try to talk my dad into letting me eat breakfast before we go. My father don’t answer him. He goes in the tent to change and heads for the lake. For a little while, I just watch him go. Then he yells for me to come on—now. I follow. But all the while I’m