Just call me "Scorpion".  That's what I go by.

I am fifteen years old.  I live with my mom and two younger brothers (P'nut and Yancey), who are ten and six.  Our daddy bailed out on us when Yance was born; haven't seen him since.

Doesn't even call during birthdays or holidays; have given up any hope of seeing him again. 

Bastard!

I'm now the daddy, even though, technically, I'm not even a man yet: I am responsible for caring for Yance and P'nut when my momma gets home from work.  She's a teacher in the day; at night, she's a nurse.  I'm often left by myself.  It's not a good way to live.

We live in the projects in Newark, New Jersey.  The streets here ain't safe at night: gang activity, drug deals, threats of getting muggged (or worse).  There have been several murders in the past few weeks here, and I dare not go out at night, for fear I (or one of my family members) might become the next potential victim.

I guess they call me "Scorpion" because of the large scorpion tat on my back.  I think it looks cool; I had that done three years ago, when I was twelve, as a way of getting initiated into the gang I used to belong to.  Now I know that's not the best lifestyle, so I got out of it, and now I go to church and am tryin' to get my life back on track.

I have improved markedly, in terms of my behavior, but I haven't really made any commitment to accept Jesus Christ into my heart (although P'nut has; he accepted Jesus into his heart at church summer camp, which was held back in July).  Momma was really happy for him, and so was I, but as I said, I am not brave enough to raise my hand when Pastor does his speil for salvation and then saying the Sinner's Prayer right in front of God and everybody. 

I'm not brave enough to do that.  Scared stiff I'll get laughed at or mess up when I try to say the words of the Sinner's Prayer.  So I just keep quiet and pray that God forgives me another day for chickening out.

I had a little sister, Clarabelle, but she died of meningitis when she was two.  That was three years ago.  Yancey was just three then; he really doens't remember Clarabelle, but P'nut and I sure do.  We miss her real bad, especially during holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas.  She died on Christmas Day, so Christmas is one holiday I'd rather forget because all it does is bring pain and sadness for Momma, Yancey, P'nut, and myself.

We really don't celebrate Christmas, and it's because Clarabelle died three years ago.  We don't like to be reminded of it.  Guess that's why we prefer Hallowe'en or the Fourth of July instead.

When I am not in school, I like to read, play b-ball with my homies during the weekends (or after church), write (stories or poems), watch sports on television (b-ball and football my faves!), and play with my little brothers, whom I love very much.  I get sad sometimes because Yance has mild spina bifida, and he walks with a crutch; he's not as fast as I am, and sometimes the punks at his school tease him, which pisses me off royal.  I am always threatening to beat up the litltle thugs!

Momma, she says that fighting or resorting to violence isn't the way to solve things.  I know that, but sometimes I can't help having the feeling of wanting to physically bash some motherfucker's head in for making my little crippled brother cry!

Well, sorry to go, but I am in English class as I write this, and English is about to end: gotta get ready to go to my next class, which is Science.  I will write in here again; until later, this is Scorpion saying peace out! Over and out; talk to you again another day!

~Scorpion.

*to be continued.*