A/n First chapter and it's edited.
Wassup. I'm William Mandea. Age eighteen. I live on the Southside of Chicago, near Highland Park. It was a decent neighbourhood to some extent. Except on my block things can get crazy. If you're in Chicago you're use to ABC news flocking the territory. By territory I mean my neighborhood. Yeah, it had some rundown houses, they were even smaller than you would think. On my block though, ain't nothing but wanna be gangbangers and boys my age trying to survive on the streets.
I'm not saying, I literally live on the streets--but at times even that feels like a better option. But first, lemme give you a little background information.
Amina, is my younger sister. She's twelve and is in the sixth grade. She shouldn't have to be embarrassed just to go to School. I get it, she doesn't have the girly good stuff, or whatever they wear but it ain't her fault.
Our Dad, (his name isn't important) technically left when I was born. So that means, I never really knew our Dad and neither did Amina. 'Mina.' for short.
He left because, he had gotten our Mama 'Sherry Mandea' pregnant at the age of twenty. He ditched her, because during those days my Mama was a highly crack fiend. In fact she had ME when she was in Jail. Somehow, she became her own lawyer and eventually gave birth into Jackson Hospital.
I aint ask to be brought into this world, but as those folk say 'Err thang happen for a reason.' Mama and I use to had a close relationship, but since she was so strung out of crack--that's literally ALL she would do, and spend her money on.
I tried Sheltering baby sis best I could, but Amina was a smart girl. She knew or at least had an idea on what type of crap our Mother was doing. Oh and by our Mom having a job, I really couldn't call it one. She was a prostitute.
Why, I can't understand is you're forty years old, giving yourself up to some dude that don't even like you, or know you. He just want an easy lay. I tell her time and time again, but she says she's only doing it for the crack. Oh yes, my Mama is VERY open to things light that.
Anyways, I'm a light skinned dude, nice waves that I tried keeping up on the daily. I had light brown eyes, and a killer smile. At least, it seemed like every girl melted when they saw me. I ain't gonna lie, despite the fact that we was poor. Not bone rugged poor, but we were up there...down there I should say, girls always flocked to me.
But once they found out, I wasn't interested or, I ain't have bank in my pockets they'll quickly loose interest. I could care less though, cause as for relationships go I'm over em. Girls will just use you until your pockets dry.
Plus all this money gonna focus on me. I still went to School. I was a Senior at 'RiverDale' High. I ain't have no flashy car.
But I did have the latest Jordans always. I ain't have enough money to move us out of the ghetto, of Chiraq but you know if I could, I would have been moved out.
Our house, was a simple two story house. In the front there was a garden that use to me kept up by 'Mary' our grandmother who passed away last year. My sister use to always tend to it after G-ma had died, but for some strange reason our Mama banned us from even going out into the yard to take care of it.
I use to have fun on those days with my G-ma as lame as it sounds. She, I and my little sis would always sit outside on the stone bench our late grandfather had built. (This house held generations, even of the small size of it.)
We would dine on fresh Lemonade, and those little cake things. That or tea. For an odd reason I loved Tea and Lemonade even more, since my G-ma had died.
I wasn't PROUD on how I was receiving money. I slang rocks. This meant, on the daily I would work normally 12-5 in the morning, selling dope on the side. Where I got the dope? I can't tell you that, just yet. Just know that it was a risky job, and you were not only trying to put food on the table--but you also had to guard your life.
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Welcome 2 My Block©Random
(C) All rights reserved to Idenity 2014-2015 Urban Novel.along with titles, character names and descriptions. "You had to hustle, cause that's how we was raised on my block." It's the same old thing on my block. You're either hustling or slanging co...