Novel & Cerita Jamal On My Block

I spotted his face easily in the middle of the men as they walked toward the parking lot and stopped suddenly. Jamal Johnson was about five foot five inches and had a slight build. He took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. ‘Smoking can kill you,’ I thought to myself as I looked at the other men with him. The man next to him had an air about him and I took a gamble that he was second in charge.

He had forfeited that right a long time ago. Jamal crouched slightly so he was closer to Malaya’s level. “Hey there,” he said warmly, his voice kind and open. Malaya offered a shy little wave, her fingers tightening briefly around Jordan’s sleeve before she relaxed again. The small gesture sent a rush of emotion through Jordan’s chest—pride, protectiveness, and a quiet ache all at once. Jamal straightened and turned back to Laila. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

"I'm sorry. I was too worked up. The baby had just been hurt. If Vira got hurt too, Father would never let you go. Then we really wouldn't be able to leave this family—" "That's enough," I cut him off. "William, maybe you're not tired of saying those words, but I am tired of hearing them." After that, I did not look at him again. I turned and walked straight into the storm. William moved to follow me on instinct. Then a nurse came running out behind him. "Mr. Jamison, he's awake!" He stopped short. He lowered his eyes to the ring still in his palm, then slowly pulled it back. A moment later, I heard him shout after me through the rain. "Stephanie, just wait a little longer. Soon, we'll final

She hit post and hoped for the best. The first few replies were weirdos or people who clearly didn’t read the ad. Then Jamal messaged her. His profile picture showed a tall guy with a warm smile, dark skin, and easy confidence. He wrote, “Hey, I’m Jamal, 28, just moved to the city for a trainer job at the new gym downtown. I work a lot but I’m clean, pay rent on time, and I can cook. Mind if we grab coffee and chat?” They met at a little café around the corner from the apartment. Jamal showed up in a black t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and jeans that fit just right. He stood up when she walked in, shaking her hand with a firm but gentle grip.

And this time, it ended faster than she expected. As they walked on the sidewalk, looking for a taxi, a man slapped Jade's butt. He had an evil smirk on his face as he eyed Jade lustfully. Placing his hand on her hair, he brazenly asked her to name her price. Shawn wanted to fight him but Jade told him not to. She simply brushed off his hand and walked away.

"Despite their belief in the Moon Goddess being next to nothing, they like to make people think they believe in her. That means being an outstanding citizen." Our journey-which remains under a veil of uncertain Malik sewed himself-lead upstairs, and into a restricted zone for the competitors. The moment my feet touched the top landing, I felt a thrill of exhilaration strike through me. Now my nickname Trouble Maker is beginning to have a lot more material behind it to back it up. "This is-" My words of complaint were cut off by Malik holding his hand up.

my voice was whispered harshly and I followed it towards the darkened corner of the alley behind the pack house. Jamal was waiting there for me. I wouldn’t refer to Jamal as my friend but he served a purpose and we had similar views and standpoints. We wanted the same thing and we were willing to tolerate each other for as long as we needed to get to our endgame. He had dark skin and curly black hair that settled in a mop atop his head. “What do you want?” my response was equally as harsh. “You know that I can’t leave the pack house at weird hours or they will begin to suspect.”

In less than no time, they were casually dressed up and had hit the road. Jamal was dressed in a pair black of denim jeans and a black t-shirt over it. On his feet were a pair of white converse and a black blazer graced his entire outfit. He also had on a black face-cap which would conceal the most part of his face. Adele had on a pair of boyfriend jeans and a blouse tucked into it. A leather belt held the jean in place on her tiny waist and on her feet were a pair of black Balenciaga. Her hair was wrapped up in a messy ponytail and she had on no make-up. She held her little handbag on her left hand while her right arm was wrapped around Jamal's left arm as they walked on the street.

I pick out nude flats—grass and heels don’t mix—and when I come out of the closet, Jamal is standing there. He’s wearing a light purple button-down and khakis. His eyes meet mine, red-rimmed and tired. Naomi gives us a small, knowing smile. “You’ve got five minutes. I’ll be in the living room.” Then she slips out, quietly closing the door behind her. I’m staring at the floor when I hear his voice. Raspy. Broken. “You look beautiful, Bella.” I look up. Even now, even with the gaping hole where Gregory should be, Jamal’s gaze makes my heart flutter.

Jamal called out to his mom while waving his little hand at her. “Are you okay, buddy?” Agent Malloy acknowledged Jamal when he looked around and saw that the child struggled to get his mother’s attention. “I gotta pee,” Jamal whimpered to Agent Malloy. He had to pee so badly that he didn’t even care about dropping his Hot Wheels toy car on the floor. “You gotta use the bathroom, baby? Okay, hold on, your mama's coming.” Rashonda bolted over to her child’s bedside with her arms stretched out.