On The Come Up

On The Come Up

Growing up in the heart of the Atlanta ghetto, siblings DeMarco and Jasmine Winslow have developed a talent for survival. But if given the chance, they would do anything for a fresh start. . . . By the time DeMarco was fifteen, being locked up was better than being at home. So whenever he got hungry or cold or just plain tired of living in the ghetto, he'd steal something and make sure he got caught, 'cause going to juvie was like going to heaven: video games, basketball courts, a big screen television, and three hot meals a day. And now that he's back in the hood, things seem worse than before. Jasmine, DeMarco's twin sister, hasn't had the luxury of vacationing in juvie. She's had to balance being an honor roll student with fighting off advances from her mother's boyfriend. After her mom sides with her boyfriend, Jasmine's out on the streets and running with the DIVAs, a rough group of girls whose number one goal is to get paid. But when Jasmine finally gets her chance to break free, she learns the hard way that no one leaves the hood unscathed. . . . Also Available TWO THE HARD WAY AT THE CROSSROADS [show covers] Travis Hunter  is the founder of the Hearts of Men Foundation, through which he mentors underprivileged children. He is also the author of eight novels for adults:  The Hearts of Men, Married But Still Looking, Trouble Man, A One Woman Man, Something to Die For, A Family Sin,  and  Dark Child.  Hunter graduated from Georgia State University with a bachelor’s in Psychology and is a veteran of the U.S. Army. Hunter lives in a suburb of Atlanta with his son Rashaad. ON ThE COME UP By Travis Hunter DAFINA KTEEN BOOKS Copyright © 2011 Travis Hunter All right reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7582-4252-5 Chapter One DeMarco "Resident DeMarco Winslow," said a loud voice over the intercom. "Please report to your room." I listened in closer. "Did they just call my name?" I said to Coo Coo, one of my friends from the neighborhood where I grew up. "I think so, homie," he said. "Whatchu do?" "I haven't done anything," I said with a frown as I thought back to what I may have done. I stood from my desk and closed my textbook. "I wonder what they want." "You better go see," Coo Coo said. "Maybe you going home, boy?" "That would be nice," I said. "But I doubt that." "No other reason for them to be calling you." I thought about what my friend said for a second and realized that he was right. "Hold it down out there until I get home," Coo Coo said with a blank expression on his brown baby face. He reached out to shake my hand as if he was congratulating me, but we both knew going home wasn't anything to celebrate. Coo Coo was in for stealing a candy bar from a gas station, and the owner of the store was acting like he was a bank robber. He pressed charges and the judge gave my friend nine months in the pokey for a doggone Snickers bar. He was only fourteen years old and already seemed to be getting the hang of life behind the fence. Coo Coo had lived a very hard life and his eyes told his story: sad, droopy, and void of any signs of a future. His mother was in prison and his father was shot and killed during a botched bank robbery. Coo Coo lived with an aunt who treated him like he was a leech. He got his nickname because folks always called him crazy, but he was as sane as anyone else. He only acted crazy to keep the nuts away. "Resident DeMarco Winslow. Please report to your room," the voice said again. I sighed and picked up my drawing tablet and walked to the front of the class. Officer Scales appeared in the doorway and nodded at me. That was my cue that he would be escorting me back to my "room." I don't know why they called them rooms; I guess it was because we were juveniles and they wanted to be politically correct, but in my book, they were cells and we weren't residents, we were inmates. Officer Scales asked, "How ya doing, boy?" He was at least six feet ten inches tall and was mostly muscle. "I'm good." I followed him out of the classroom without a word to any of the thirty or so other kids who looked and dressed just like me. We were a sea of black faces, navy-blue jumpsuits, and orange flip-flops. "What's going on, Scales?" I asked as we walked side by side. "Why they want me?" "Don't know, lil buddy," Scales said. "Maybe you have a visitor. Today is your birthday, right?" "What's the date?" "August twentieth," he said. "Oh yeah? Well, I guess it is," I said with a hunch of my shoulders. "Yeah," Scales said. "The staff here was trying to do a lil something for you this morning, but the new director is a butt-wipe and he shut it down." "It's all good. Don't nobody wanna celebrate their birthday up in here anyway," I said as if I had a better place to be. Scales chuckled, then used his large key to open the steel door leading to the main building. We entered through the cafeteria, walked through the commons area, past the control booth, t