Page 1 of The Wright Man

Prologue

Maleek

When They Were 5...

"Maleek Wright, if you're going to be a brat, sit down and stay out of the way before I give you something to cry about!"

Mama's voice cut through the noise of the moving truck, sharp and irritated.

Great. Porch exile. Again. Bored and banished before lunch.

Sure, I was pushing her buttons. And yeah, maybe I probably should have helped move the boxes like she asked me to, but I couldn't help it. Everything about today was wrong.

I huffed, plopping down on the porch steps and wrapping my arms around my knees. The green paint on the wood was old and peeling, and everything smelled weird—like grass and dirt and something else I couldn't figure out. Everything about this place was too green. Our old neighborhood was nothing but buildings and apartments. There were always people around. Loud music. Louder voices.

This place had more trees than people. And it was so quiet.

I hated this new house. I hated this neighborhood. And I hated that Mama wouldn't explain why we had to leave in the first place.

I just wanted to go back home.

"Maleek, baby, please don't start." Mama sighed as she approached the porch, a box labeled Kitchen in her arms. Her voice was softer than it was before, more tired. She'd been tired a lot lately. "We've got a lot to move, and only the three of us can move it all, so I'm not in the mood for your attitude right now."

I didn't answer. I just looked over at Kareem, who was moving boxes like she told us to—stacking them at the front of the truck so they'd be easier to grab. The traitor.

He was just as excited as Mama about the move, and I didn't get it. Not at all.

"Daddy and Dre would have been able to help."

The second I said it, I saw Mama flinch. Her hand froze on the box for a second before she set it down and sat beside me on the step.

Leaving Daddy and Andre behind was the part that hurt the most. Families were supposed to stay together, no matter what. I knew Daddy yelled and got mad sometimes—but that's just how he was. He was always there. If we had to move, then him and Andre should've come too.

Mama rubbed my back—gentle, but not enough to make the heavy feeling go away.

"Yeah... they would've," she said, voice quiet like she was talking to herself more than to me. "I miss them too, Shrimp."

Normally, that nickname would've made me laugh. Mama's favorite movie was Forrest Gump, and she'd watched it so many times she started calling us names from it. Andre was Bubba, Kareem was Gump, and I was Shrimp because I was the youngest.

"Bubba Gump Shrimp," we used to call ourselves when we were all together.

Now it was just me and Kareem. Gump and Shrimp.

And that sounded... stupid.

I stared at the ground.

"It's not the same," I muttered, not sure if I meant the nickname or... everything.

Mama took a deep breath. "Sometimes, we have to do really hard things to keep ourselves safe. Right now, it's just you, me, and Kareem because we needed a place where we could feel calm. Happy. Not scared."

She paused.

"And even though I miss your Daddy and your brother, I'm choosing to focus on the fact that we're safe now... Does that make sense?"

I kicked at a crack in the porch, trying to keep my voice steady. "If we had to move, they should've come too. We should all be safe together."

She reached over and brushed one of my braids behind my ear. I've always had long hair. Sometimes people thought I was a girl, which was annoying—but I'd never cut it. I liked when Mama washed and braided it. Just the two of us.