On Monday afternoon, Jaris dropped Chelsea at Inessa Weaver’s home. Athena Edson, Falisha Colbert, and Keisha were already gathered there for a sleepover. They were going to watch a movie on Inessa’s family’s big new screen. Then they were going to pile into Inessa’s big bedroom and sleep on the floor in sleeping bags. They wouldn’t do much sleeping, though, if the past was any sign of how things would go. At the last sleepover at the Spain house, the girls talked until three in the morning. The conversation was interspersed with wild laughter that kept Jaris awake all night. Luckily for the Weaver family, Tuesday was a teacher’s workday at Tubman. The kids had the day off. Inessa’s parents planned to bring all the girls home about midmorning after a pancake breakfast.
Pop wasn’t home when Jaris pulled into the driveway. Since he’d hired Darnell Meredith, he was coming home earlier. The two men got their work done quicker. It wasn’t like it used to be when Pop worked for old Jackson, who did very little work. Pop had to do the lion’s share of the auto repairs, and he often came home in the dark. Now two good mechanics were on the job: Pop who was terrific and Darnell who was very good. They made a hard-working team. But today Pop wasn’t home, and Jaris had a sinking feeling. He figured Pop’s not coming home had something to do with New Orleans. The convention coming up next month was on Pop’s mind twenty-four-seven.
When Jaris went in the house, Mom was on the computer. She looked up over her shoulder and smiled glowingly. “I’ll be giving several presentations at the convention. I’m polishing them up. You know we instituted that new language arts program here. Now we’ve got the chance to share what we learned with the whole country.”
“Yeah, that’s good, Mom,” Jaris replied half-heartedly.
Mom turned herself around in the office chair and put her hands on her knees. “Jaris,” she said, looking at him directly, “I’m really sorry about how your father is acting. It must be upsetting to you and your sister. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what the man expects me to do. Greg and I can really make an important impact on education for our kids. Your father’s selfish concerns can’t stand in the way. He’s acting like a spoiled child.”
Jaris had been on his way to his room. But he turned to face his mother when she began to speak to him. He went back into the living room, sitting down. “Well, you know Mom,” he responded, “this Maynard dude . . . I don’t like him that much either.”
“What?” Mom demanded. “What are you talking about, Jaris? Everybody likes and admires Greg at school.”
“Mom,” Jaris squirmed a little as he spoke. “Guys like him, they’re devious. They’re phony. Behind the smiles and the chuckles, they got their agenda.”
“Now you’re sounding almost as ridiculous as your father! What is Greg’s ‘agenda’?” Mom demanded.
“He likes you, Mom. He likes you too much,” Jaris told her.
Mom gasped. “Jaris! Are you out of your mind? Greg has never been inappropriate with me. Never!”
“Mom, he’s got his eyes on you. That’s what worries Pop,” Jaris insisted.
“This is so unbelievably ridiculous,” Mom stormed. “I have a strictly professional relationship with Greg Maynard. He is my boss. To read anything else into it is sick. I can’t believe your father’s unfound jealousies appear plausible to you, Jaris.”
“Like Carissa at school, dumping Kevin,” Jaris explained. “She just got carried away. It can happen with guys and chicks.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Jaris,” Mom scolded. “Your father’s poisonous Neanderthal thinking has seeped into your brain.” Mom looked suddenly stricken by her own choice of words. She hadn’t meant to call Pop a “Neanderthal.”
Jaris looked silently at his mother. After a moment of embarrassed silence, Mom said, “I didn’t mean to use that word, Jaris, and you know it. Don’t be looking at me like that. You have that aggrieved look on your face. You’re thinking I’m insulting your poor suffering father who has every right to want me to turn down this wonderful opportunity. And you think I should do that just because of his absurd concerns.”
Mom’s voice quivered with emotion. She had suspected for a long time that her son and daughter, especially Jaris, were more their father’s children than hers. No matter how off the wall Pop was, Jaris tended to take his side. The thought was maddening to Monica Spain.
“Jaris,” Mom said, trying to defend herself, “remember that argument about putting another big mortgage on our home so your father could buy the garage? He won that argument. I had horrible misgivings, yet I gave in.”
“I know, Mom and it’s working out terrific,” Jaris admitted. “Pop is doing great. He’s like increased business at the garage by over thirty percent. I went over his spread sheets with him, and it was amazing. Before Pop took over, the garage was dirty, and Jackson wasn’t always too efficient. The reason more customers are coming in is because Pop has streamlined and cleaned up the place. Pop was right about buying the business.”
“Yes, and I was wrong,” Mom conceded bitterly. “Just as I am always wrong in your eyes.”
Jaris felt as if he’d hurt his mom badly. He wanted desperately to make her feel better.
“No, Mom,” he told her, “I think you have to go to the convention in New Orleans. You’ll do a great job. I’m proud that you were chosen to represent all the teachers around here. It’s a great honor, and you deserve it. It’s just that you’re all the time talkin’ about Maynard—‘Greg this’ and ‘Greg that.’ It sounds like you guys are too close. I wish you’d just cool that part, you know.”
Mom was listening, and Jaris went on. “I know Pop is too jealous. And I know you’ve never given him any reason to be that way. But, Mom, he loves you so much. You know, most of my friends—their parents aren’t married anymore. Trevor’s mom is single. Oliver’s parents are friends but they hardly see each other except in the summer. Sereeta’s family is a disaster. I mean, I’m so grateful that I got parents like you guys. I don’t want anything to, you know . . .”
Jaris couldn’t come right out and express his darkest fears.
“Honey,” Mom said softly, “I love the man I married with all my heart. I always will. Even when I want to strangle him, I love him even then. This is never going to change. Greg Maynard is a nice man, and he’s wonderful to work for. He happens to make my job easier. But he means nothing to me in any other way. Nothing.”
“I know, Mom,” Jaris admitted. But he still felt anxious about the trip to New Orleans and how it was upsetting Pop. Jaris wanted to say more. But what could he say that wouldn’t hurt Mom more?
“You comin’?” Kevin Walker asked Lydell Nelson after English class on Wednesday.
Lydell stuffed his journal into his backpack and followed Kevin to his pickup in the parking lot. The rusty pickup sat waiting like a patient old horse. Kevin borrowed it from his grandfather
They drove to Eddie Gerkin’s gym, north of the Grant neighborhood. It was in a rundown area where graffiti was scrawled on every fence and wall. Once factories hummed in the area, and hundreds of people had work. But now most of the buildings were abandoned.
Concrete steps led up to the gym. Kevin sprinted up, two steps at a time, but Lydell went slowly. He weighed too much. He’d weighed too much since he was nine. His father weighed too much too. His dad never told Lydell how to eat properly. They both lived on burgers and fries. Lydell was happy in those days. He stopped being happy when he was ten, and he was never happy since then.
Eddie Gerkin had once trained good fighters. One of his boys won the welterweight championship. Lately, though, most kids were more interested in other sports: martial arts, soccer, extreme sports. But boxing was still Eddie’s life. He was a sixty–something African American with white hair. He’d met Lydell when Kevin brought him the first time. He thought the kid looked lazy.
The gym smelled bad—too many sweating bodies. Kevin didn’t notice. A pretty black girl was boxing in one of the rings. Kevin looked at her for a few moments. Then he and Lydell walked toward the heavy bags that hung on chains from the ceiling.
Eddie wrapped the boys’ hands, and then they put on gloves. Lydell was terrible at first, but then he got the hang of it.
“Name the bags,” Kevin advised Lydell. “You’re not hittin’ the bag. Your hittin’ your demons. It’s Marko Lane. Bam, bam, bam. Doesn’t that feel good, man?”
The heavy bag Lydell was whacking away at began to swing. As he hit it harder, the bag swung more. Lydell smiled a little. Kevin never saw him smile before.
“That’s it, dude,” Kevin urged him.
Kevin skipped backward from the bag, practicing footwork. As he did, he glanced over at the girl in the ring. She had short, curly hair and big shoulders for a girl. Her arms were toned. She was pretty. Kevin kept looking at her from time to time.
After a while, Lydell stepped back from the bag.
“How often you come here?” Lydell asked Kevin.
“Pretty much every day after school, when I don’t have track practice. I do stretching, shadowboxing. I hit the bags a lot,” Kevin answered.
“You said your father was a fighter,” Lydell said. “He still around?”
“No,” Kevin replied. “He got in a fight with another guy and killed him. They sent Pa up, and he died in prison.”
“My father’s gone too,” Lydell admitted.
“Dead?” Kevin asked, his gaze still on the girl boxer. Her muscles flexed. She had great moves. She sparred with a guy, dancing and jabbing like a pro. All the while, she kept her right hand up. When she connected, she made a pop-pop-pop sound.
“Yeah,” Lydell replied. He was poking at the bag every now and then, but not really punching hard. “We were in the park. We’d stopped for burgers like usual. Some guys came along. They started hitting my father. I don’t know why. I got scared and ran. I hid. I thought they’d beat me up too. They whupped on him like crazy, laughing and stuff. Then they went away. I went over to my father. I’m goin’, ‘Hey Pa, you okay?’ But he didn’t say anything. He looked awful. His whole face was split open . . .”
Lydell was sweating now, as profusely as the girl in the ring. “I screamed and people came. Cops too,” Lydell went on.
“Was he dead?” Kevin asked, turning to look at Lydell.
“Yeah. I saw it happen,” Lydell nodded as he spoke. “I didn’t do anything. I just ran and hid, and I didn’t do anything” Lydell’s voice was heavy with grief. “He was my pa, and he was good to me. I shoulda done something.”
Kevin’s full attention was on Lydell now. He asked, “How old were you, man?”
“Ten,” Lydell answered.
“What could you do, man?” Kevin assured him. “A ten-year-old kid against a gang of grown men. You’re lucky to be alive yourself.”
“Sometimes I dream about it,” Lydell continued. “I’m there in the park. I grab a branch from a tree. I go after them and smash them, and my father isn’t dead anymore. He gets up from the grass, and he’s okay.”
“Nothin’ you could do, man,” Kevin asserted. “You live with your ma now?”
“It was just Pa and me,” Lydell explained. “Ma died when I was four. It was just him and me. He was a good dad. I think he was the best dad any kid could have.”
“They catch the guys who did it?” Kevin asked.
“No,” Lydell answered. “Cops said they were drunk. Drunk and mean. One of them said, ‘Let’s whup fatso.’ I remember hearing that. They thought it was funny. It’s been a long time. It’s what they call a cold case now.”
“So where you livin’ now, man?” Kevin asked.
“With my aunt,” Lydell replied. “My ma’s sister. She doesn’t like it. She’s got kids. She don’t need me.”
Kevin watched the girl in the ring again. Her punches were sharp. She was really good. She moved from side to side, her body like a dancer’s.
“Kevin, I never told anybody about what happened to my pa,” Lydell confided.
“If you’re wondering if it’s safe with me, dude, don’t worry,” Kevin assured him. “It won’t go no farther than us. I swear.”
Kevin meant what he said. After all, he had the secret about his dad, who died in prison. Kevin knew how Lydell was feeling.
“Lydell, man,” Kevin nodded toward the ring. “Look at that chick. She’s got good combinations. What a babe.”
“Yeah,” Lydell agreed. But he wasn’t looking at her.
The girl left the ring and went to join a group of friends. Kevin called out to her, “You’re sharp, babe.”
The girl smiled at him.
“I’m not good with people,” Lydell confided. “That’s why I write so much. I feel safe when I do that.”
“I’m kind of a loner myself, Lydell,” Kevin admitted. “I had a girlfriend, but she quit on me. Found somebody she liked better.”
The girl boxer stood talking with a couple guys and another girl. She turned and looked back at Kevin. She seemed to like the looks of the tall, dark-eyed young man.
She pointed toward Kevin and Lydell. “You guys wanna go for hot dogs? There’s a little dive down the street that caters to people like us.” She laughed.
Kevin looked at Lydell, who seemed nervous. “Yeah, sure,” Kevin called back. “I never met a hot dog I didn’t like.”
“We’re driving a red Ford,” the girl boxer told him. “You can follow us.”
“You got it!” Kevin confirmed.
They ended up at a small diner, where they all squeezed into a booth.
“Funny to see a chick boxing,” Kevin told the girl.
“Lotta girls boxing now,” the girl retorted. “Hey, I’m Rochelle Bailey. My sister, Lia. My friend, Lou. You guys in college?”
“Seniors at Tubman,” Kevin replied.
“I just graduated Lincoln,” Rochelle offered. “I’m in community college. I want to be a personal trainer or something.”
“You look great boxing, girl,” Kevin told her.
“I’m gonna be in a three-rounder tomorrow. Be wearin’ headgear,” Rochelle announced, looking at Kevin. “What do you want to do with your life?”
“Maybe be a boxer too,” Kevin smiled. “Maybe someday we’ll be in a match, you and me.”
The hot dogs were good. And, Kevin thought, the company was better.
As they drove through the darkness on the way home, Lydell spoke up. “It was fun at the gym. You’re right, Kevin. It lets the stress out a little.”
“Yeah, it does,” Kevin affirmed.
“Rochelle seemed interested in you, Kevin,” Lydell remarked. “She kept looking at you.”
“I was lookin’ at her too,” Kevin said.
“You said before you had a girlfriend, but she went for some other guy,” Lydell commented. “You hate her for that?”
Kevin didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened on the wheel, and Lydell could see his veins popping out on the backs of his hands. “Me and Carissa were doing good,” Kevin answered. “Then she heard this dude singing with his creepy band, and she sort of drifted off. He came on to her. Me and Carissa been together for a while. It hurt when she took off. And yeah . . . I kinda hate her.”
“Maybe she’ll get sick of the other dude and come back,” Lydell suggested.
“I wouldn’t have her back,” Kevin said.
“People are hard to figure,” Lydell remarked. “That’s why I try to stay away from them. Like my aunt. She lets me live there, but she wishes I wasn’t there. She’s got kids, my cousins. One of them is about my age. He bullies me. He snaps his fingers in my face and hurts my lips. Then he laughs. He says if I say anything, I’m outta there. So I just take it.”
“That’s a bad deal, dude,” Kevin responded sympathetically. “I live with my grandparents. They’re good people. They’re real old, and they got health problems. But they do their best. When I was a kid, we’d all go camping together, me and Mom and the grandparents. I got to love them a lot. I see my grandfather getting slower now. He’s hurtin’ in his joints, and it makes me sad. Life ain’t easy, man. The people you hate make your life miserable, and the people you love make you worry.”
“I wish I had a lot of money so I could pay my aunt what she’s spent on me and then get out of there,” Lydell said. “I’d never look back.”
“I hate real easy,” Kevin responded. “There’s a couple kids at school I feel good about. There’s this group, they call it Alonee’s posse for this chick Alonee Lennox. She brought everybody together. I like those guys—Jaris, Oliver, Derrick, Sami, and Sereeta, Jaris’s chick. I like being with them. I don’t talk much. But we go down under the eucalyptus trees for lunch, and they’re jabbering away. I just lie on the grass and look at the clouds. Nobody bugs me. If you want to join us, just come. You can write in your journal and nobody cares. That’s how they are.”
Kevin dropped Lydell home. Then he went to his grandparents’ house. He was a little late. As he neared the house, he saw the bent figure of his grandfather in the doorway, watching for him.