A hum buzzed through the crowd blanketing sidewalks.
Heads popped out of open windows, staring off into the distance.
waiting to catch a glimpse of hip-hop royalty.
Credit: Harper Collins
Stephon Davis snorted up the electricity with a smirk.
Steph touched the tender spaces in between the cornrows under his knit hat with a slight wince.
A little pain is better than looking busted, he thought, and sniffed the air again.
Tiffany D. Jackson
Old ladies held candles around the makeshift memorials peppered with cards and teddy bears.
Kids held up handmade posters .
We Love You Big Poppa!
Much different from the guys he passed on Fulton sellingBiggie RIPT-shirts.
I cant believe we skipped school for this, Quadir said behind him.
You know Ms. Reigns gonna call my moms on me.
This isrealhistory happening right now!
The temperature began to drop and the cold sank into their bones.
They hadnt come dressed for the weather.
It was a spur-of-the-moment decision by Steph.
I shouldve brought Jasmine, Steph thought, watching a group of girls cry across the street.
She needed to see that it wasnt just him with unconditional love for Biggie.
TV crews and cameramen wiggled their way between residents.
On the opposite end of the block, cops gathered, patrolling in riot gear.
A few people booed, their presence unwelcome.
A hushed stillness came over the crowd.
The quiet felt unnatural for Brooklyn, and it made Steph edgy.
He was more comfortable with the noise of hectic traffic, street sirens, and arguing neighbors.
He couldnt even fall asleep without the radio on.
Yo, where this fool at?
Jarrell said, shivering.
Its brick out here.
You sure they gonna drive this way?
Quadir asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
This is Biggies block.
He lived right over there, 226 St. James Place!
But weve been waiting for like two hours.
The funeral gotta be over by now.
Steph started having doubts.
What if they lied?
What if he wasnt coming through Brooklyn like planned?
That would mean he had convinced his best friends to ditch for nothing.
That also meant he wouldnt have the chance to say goodbye.
The block erupted with cheers.
Someone yelled, pointing at Bigs widow in the back of one of the limos.
People peered through the tinted windows, straining to see the stars inside.
One car passed, covered in beautiful wreaths, a standing spray with B.I.G.
spelled out in red flowers.
Tears flowed, even from the hood cats and stickup kids.
One of those kids was Steph.
The last car made a turn with a sharp finality and the block became still again.
The small ripples of sadness that washed over them while they waited became giant tidal waves.
Damn, Jarrell said.
The only word to describe the feeling.
The boys instinctively started walking toward Fulton as raw emotions spilled into the streets.
He was ours, yo!
A man cried on the corner, sniffling through his words.
He dressed like us, talked like us, looked like us.
No one from Brooklyn represented us like Big.
Yo, duke is messed up, Quady said, solemnly.
Thats what its like when you lose family, Steph said.
Music healed Steph after his father died.
Now, theyre both gone.
Then, out of nowhere, someone turned up the volume, and Hypnotize rumbled through speakers .
Uh, Uh, Uh .
cmon
Biggies voice was like the lighter that set the streets on fire.
Everyone started jumping, dancing, and singing.
The boys grinned at one another and took off into the crowd.
Quadir and Steph set it off with the crowd below.
In a panic, Steph looked up at Jarrell, unaware of the cops approaching.
he screamed, but it was too late.
A cop yanked at his arm and he toppled over to the ground.
Another cop pressed a knee into Jarrells back.
Yo, get off me, Jarrell gurgled out, cheek pressed into the concrete.
I aint do nothing!
Pepper spray perfumed the air.
Women coughed, sergeants barked, and sirens blared as Biggie continued to play in the background.
Why yall doing this?
a young girl cried to the cops pushing at the crowd.
This is mad unnecessary!
We came here to represent for Biggie.
Yall wont even let us have this!
Steph looked to Quadir.
There was only one way to save their friend.
On the count of three, they bum-rushed the cop with their joint shoulders.
The cop fell on his back.
Quickly, Quadir helped Jarrell to his feet, doubling back.
Quadir yelled, pulling Steph with him.
Steph took off running, down Fulton Street, toward home.
Wind whistled through his ears; his sneakers smacked the pavement as he ran harder, faster.
Running from the cops and the new pain thumping in his chest he couldnt tell his friends about.
They would look at him .
He hated having to be so strong all the time.
He looked back at Quadir, hot on his tail, Jarrell trailing behind them.
They all knew where to go: straight to Habibis.
They jogged down Marion Street to Patchen Ave, collapsing outside the corner bodega facing Brevoort.
Yo, shit got crazy, I cant believe they tried to bust me, Jarrell wheezed.
Good looking out back there, yall.
Son, there were mad people out there, Jarrell said, leaning against the brick wall.
So much love for Big!
Its gonna be all over the news tonight.
Steph remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.
The weight of grief settled like dust upon his skin.
How could he lose the two men that shaped him?
Why do people that he love got to die?
And how does he protect everyone left whos important to him?
Quadir glanced up at his friend, cocking his head to the side.
He always noticed when Steph drifted too far and had to fish him back out.
You aight, kid?
I just cant believe hes gone.
He should have never went to Cali!
Shouldve stayed his ass right here in Brooklyn.
Cats took him out on some revenge key in shit when he never did nothing to nobody.
Quadir spat out a few sunflower seeds on the concrete.
Yo, deadass, he said, cautious of the ears around them that could brand him a traitor.
This whole East Coast-West Coast beef never made sense to me.
They even said it inVibeit was just a bunch of he said, she said shit.
And look what it cost us.
Two of the best rappers alive.
He shook his head.
Tupac was the man, and I was shook to listen to him cause cats were wildin.
Why cant I rep for Bad Boy but fuck with an artist on Death Row?
Good music is good music.
Point, blank, period.
Yeah, Jarrell said, stuffing his mouth with the last cupcake.
Thats like when cats go which one is better, DC Comics or Marvel?
Son, everyone know Marvel is the illest.
But you gotta respect Superman.
I mean, dukes an alien that can fly, carrying buildings and shit.
So Tupacs an alien?
He aint from our world, Quadir said, laughing.
Duke was from the future or something.
His friends stared at him as if he had five heads.
Shut yo ass up!
Everybody reads comic books!
So what you saying?
Biggie was like Spider-Man or something?
Well, except the part him being from Queens and all.
He was one of us, Steph added with a shrug.
He looked out for his people.
The boys looked up through the trees at home, Brevoort.
Towering brown buildings, a busy hub full of life.
Yo, son, let me hear a rhyme or something, Jarrell said.
Out here all sad and shit.
Aight, set it off.
Jarrell smirked before covering his mouth, and started beatboxing, Quadir already bobbing his head.
But we doing this for B.I.G.Rell compared him to Spider-Man, now I think see why, G .
