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The sound of the rooster woke me. He crowed like his life depended on it. It was his job and he was gonna do his best. Saturday was so long and busy that I must’ve slept through the whole of Sunday. Grandad just let me too. He didn’t wake me not one time, not even to eat and now I was hungry. I heard pots and pans loudly hitting each other. Maybe Ma was back to scoop me up cause I definitely learned my lesson. I wasn’t gonna fight no more. I walked out to the kitchen and a man’s voice was coming from the radio. No Ma. She wasn’t back yet. The announcer was coming through loud and clear saying and so and so is survived by.... He said one name after the other while this ominous music played in the background. Who’d want to listen to this first thing in the morning? Grandad. He stood next to the ironing board and pressed down on something brown and listened to all the names of the people who died and the names of their relatives.
“Grandad?” I asked. “Why you listening to this stuff?” I’m so used to Ma watching Good Morning America or something, if she was home in the morning. But, Grandad’s television was off. In fact, since I’d been there, I didn’t even ever remember seeing it on, not one time.
“Good mawning,” Grandad said, ignoring my question.
“Why you listening to all these dead people names, Grandad?” I asked again.
“Is me you sleep wid last night, bwoy?” Grandad asked. I knew what he was asking me to do too. I remembered Ma used to do this very thing. She didn’t answer anything I asked her until I greeted her. Once I greeted her, we could have a full conversation like she didn’t just scold me for saying Good morning although I’d seen her the night before.
“Good morning, Grandad!” I submitted.
“You gah tu hear who dead to know who living.” Grandad continued after my good morning. Same thing Ma did. This must’ve been where she got that from.
“Huh?”
“Come over here side me!” Grandad demanded. I walked over and stood next to him.
“Yes, Grandad?” He smelled like mint and mangoes. He wore long khakis and a cool floral buttoned-down shirt. His skin was smooth like he just shaved and there was no new growth. I shaved once, a long time ago, when I only had a little bit of hair. It grew out all weird like, from different parts of my face, no real pattern. So, I took one of Ma’s pink razors and drug it across my face. Big mistake. Not only were there cuts all over my face when I was done, but my hair grew back all sorts of weird ways, a stranger pattern than originally. Then they fell out. Now, I just had some stragglers under my chin. But, Grandad, his face was smooth.
“You know how to iron?” he asked. He continued to iron the brown shirt.
“Not really,” I said, “I mean, Ma was trying to teach me but I don’t really got clothes that need ironing and when I do, Ma takes them to the cleaners.”
“You mean to tell me Gwendolyn ain’t teach you how to iron you clothes?” He shook his head in disappointment.
“Grandad, I don’t really wear clothes that need ironing.” I told him cause it was the truth. There was no real reason to iron stuff. Even my church clothes when, I did go to church, were always dry cleaned. I’d take them off, put them in the wash and I’d meet them in my closet. No ironing.
“A goin’ iron dis fu you today, but tomorrow, you gah tu iron dis you-self.”
“What?” I asked. “Iron what?”
“You uniform, bwoy. Day not goin’ let you in de school like dat.” That was when it hit me. He was ironing my school uniform. It was Monday. I’d already slept through Sunday. Ma wasn’t back and this was for real.
***
I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE Grandad got all these things from so quickly and how he knew my size. We got in Thursday night. School visit on Friday. Ma left on Friday. Mountain visit on Saturday. I didn’t know when he had time to get a uniform, but, I was now fully dressed in long khaki pants, brown belt and brown collared shirt. My shoes were brown with thick soles. The only thing I liked about these shoes were that they gave me a little height. I was just about an inch closer to Grandad’s shoulders.
“You look nice, bwoy!” Grandad said to me when I walked out of the bedroom. I swear I wasn’t feeling nice. I wasn’t really feeling anything but confusion. I couldn’t believe that this was really happening. Was I really going to a new school? In this new place? For how long? The duration of my suspension? How long? Til Ma wasn’t mad no more? How long? I couldn’t remember the last time I wore a belt or even shoes that were all the same color. Height or not, I didn’t like the shoes so I went back in the room to find some other kicks, something that would make the fit, ya know...better. Nothing. There wasn’t nothing in that duffle bag that Ma packed, no shoes, anyway. So, basically all I had was my slides and these new shoes. I walked out the bedroom again, disappointed that I couldn’t change my shoes to what I really wanted. Uniform or not, I knew for a fact that I had at least five or more pairs of shoes that could make this fit better than it was.
“Why you face look so?” Grandad asked. My face was scrunched up. I guess what I was feeling was seeping out.
“I don’t like this fit, Grandad,” I held my arms out to show him how stupid I looked.
“Fit?” Grandad asked. “You no like how it fit?”
“Fit!” I repeated. “As in outfit. I don’t like this outfit”
“You tink a pig does wuk in a dog skin?”
“Huh?”
“You goin’ school,” Grandad declared. “Dis is day uniform!” He pointed at my clothes. “Dis what you gah tu wear in de people dem school!” I got it now, I understood what he was saying. Ma didn’t usually say these things that Grandad had been saying. Ma spoke more clearly, slowly, except when she was mad. Grandad spoke like he was speaking in riddles most of the times, when he did talk. So, essentially, he was saying that a pig did his work in his own skin and a dog in its own. Because I was going to a school here and they required uniforms, that’s what I was gonna have to do - suffer through this.
“Yes, Grandad!” I said with a resigned sigh.
He folded up the ironing board, then wrapped the cord around the iron and then tucked them away in his bedroom, then reappeared.
“You goin’ eat?” He asked but it wasn’t really a question because there was food on the table already.
“I don’t really eat breakfast before school.”
“Don’t be no fool,” Grandad said. He moved around the kitchen, making clanking noises in the sink. “You gah tu eat before you go inna dis world, if you ain’t got no fuel in you tank, is way you gon’ go?” He asked but it wasn’t really a question. At least I didn’t think that he was expecting an answer from me.
I sat down at the table because it looked like he wasn’t gonna take me to school if I didn’t. Not that I really wanted to go to school, but I didn’t want to stay here either. There were fried plantains in one plate without the paper towel that Ma usually puts them on. There was oil all over this plate. A full avocado with its skin on sat alone on a large plate. It wasn’t even cut up but there was a knife next to it. I guessed I’d have to cut it myself if I wanted it! A long loaf of bread waited inside of a see-through plastic bag. A piece of it was already gone because its rough edges at the end peaked through the bag instead of the knotted end of the bread that was usually there. A long sausage laid next to that. Grandad went all out. I didn’t know who he thought was going to eat all of this food but it sure wasn’t me. There was also a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea on the table. The table was entirely too small for all this food but Grandad somehow made it all fit although it made the table look crowded.
“Grandad?” I said, “I don’t really eat none of this stuff.”
“Bwoy, you not leaving here without some-ting in you belly.” He was stern but not scary anymore. “You naw go drop dung pon de people dem school fa dem tu go call me.”
“Grandad,” I plead. “I promise I do this all the time.”
“Eat sum-ting,” he demanded. “You got porridge!” He listed the foods on the table.
“Oatmeal?” I asked.
“And pear...”
“Avocado?”
“Plant-tins,” He said in his deep accent.
“Plantains?” I laughed but Grandad’s face was unmoved. He didn’t get the joke. Most of these things that he told me about had different names in Orlando. I didn’t know why they were different here when it was the same language. I chased a slice of the plantain down with some tea. It went down like lava, probably scalding the walls of my throat. I took a spoonful of the oatmeal. Yuck. I was definitely not finishing that.
“Thanks, Grandad!” I said and moved away from the table like I ate a feast.
“Tek dis!” He gave me a backpack. It felt like it weighed a ton, but I put it on my shoulder like it wasn’t really heavy then I followed him outside. He went to the side of the bus that should’ve been the passenger side in Orlando and got in to drive. I jumped in on the opposite side. He drove through the gate after clicking on a remote to open the gate then clicked on it when we got through. This ticked me off a little bit because I hadn’t even realized he had this thing and if he did, why hadn’t he use it?
“Grandad?”
“Hm?” He answered without really opening his mouth.
I wanted to ask him why he had me getting out the bus to open the gate when he knew he had a gate opener but instead I asked, “Do you happen to have an iPhone charger?”
“A wah?”
“A charger for my phone.”
“Wah you need a charger fa?”
“Ok,” I say. “So? no charger? What about the WiFi password?”
“De Who?” There was a genuine questioning look on his face. He really didn’t know what I was talking about. No charger. No WiFi. I closed my eyes for the rest of the ride to the new school. I couldn’t even think about Ma right now and why she would even do this to me.
At the school, there were all sorts of kids that looked like me in their khaki long pants, brown collared shirts, their brown belts, and their completely brown shoes. They all moved in unison, like a herd of brown and green going to get slaughtered. They all seemed to know exactly where they were going and why. Me? I definitely didn’t belong here, uniform or not. I didn’t make a move out of the bus. New school meant that I had to make new friends and I wasn’t good at nothing new. Not new schools. Not new friends. I just wanted to keep my head down til my suspension was up. Play this game that Ma dragged Grandad into.
“You naw move?” Grandad asked.
I sighed and jumped out the bus. Grandad jumped out too. I followed him back to the school’s office, walked in with the rest of the kids and Grandad, the only adult. It was different this time though. This time I wore a uniform like everybody else. This time I had a backpack like everybody else. This time, I fit in. All the kids were wearing what I was wearing; they were all headed in the same direction, towards what looked like a courtyard, the place with the stage. This was better for me, not standing out. Kept less eyes off me. Blend in. Stay low, I reminded myself.
We headed to the office, right next to the courtyard. It was a sea of brown and green uniforms and I wondered if this were all the kids that went to this school. If so, and my school and this school had a war, the kids in St. Kitts would be outnumbered for sure. The sea of brown and green uniforms faced a large concrete stage. Two kids stood on the stage directing the brown and green sea, one skinny tall dude wore long khakis like what I wore and a girl in a green pleated skirt with her brown shirt. They all recited what sounded like the Our Father Prayer, but I wasn’t sure because their thick accents said it so perfectly like soldiers marching in unison. Seemed robotic to me but, then again, this wasn’t my school.
In the office, Grandad whispered something to the same man that I wouldn’t take his schedule from. All I heard Grandad say is it gon change by mawning. Who knew what they were talking about this time? The man and Grandad drew closer to me and I realized he was wearing a different suit from the first time I saw him but he was still not hot. Small beads of sweat rolled down my face and I wasn’t even wearing half of the clothes this clown wore.
“I am Headmaster Turnbull!” He extended his hand. His accent was as deep as Grandad’s but he sounded more like Ma when she spoke to people who may not be able to understand her deep accent. His words were slow and careful. I extended my hand to shake his. His hand was rough and hard like the paper bags we got from the grocery store.
“Kadeem Johnson,” I said.
“Mr. Kadeem Johnson!” He repeated my name like I didn’t hear what I just said. “We’re glad to have you in our school.”
“I won’t be here long,” I said with confidence.
“Whatever time you spend here,” Headmaster Turnbull waved his hand to indicate the school, “we at Crayon High School want it to be successful.”
“Sure,” I said with as much energy as a turtle racing a rabbit.
“Ok, it look like you gon’ be fine,” Grandad said reaching into his pocket. He pulled out some silver coins and handed them to me. “Dis fu you lunch.” Then he left.
“Your grandfather is precisely right,” Headmaster Turnbull said. “We understand that you’re joining us from the States so this may be a little different for you.”
I nodded. Different was not quite the word I’d use but, whatever.
“First thing,” Headmaster Turnbull continued, “I’ve talked to your grandfather about your hair.”
“My hair?” I questioned.
“Yes, it is in violation of our dress code,” He looked at my hair disapprovingly. “Your grandfather assures me that your hair will be in dress code by tomorrow.”
“Yo!” I shouted, now agitated and defensive. No one’s cutting my hair, I wanted to shout. But, then I calmed down because I remembered that this was just Ma playing her game. My suspension was gonna be over soon. I was gonna be back in Orlando soon. I was gonna have WiFi soon. This was all gonna be over soon.