Robin just stood there, feeling horrible and trapped. His friends were silent. Sly was studying the stained ceiling of the rec hall. Kaykay’s eyes were focused on the chipped tile floor like it had the word of God Almighty written in real gold.
“Robin?” Mr. Smith’s hands tightened. “I may be ’bout eighty years old, but I will not stand for bull—you know what I mean. Now ’fess up to how you got yo’ hands on that money, or I’ll call Sarge, Miz Paige, Reverend Thomas, and Kaykay’s parents, and maybe the Ironwood po–lice … and you can ’fess up to all o’ them!”
Robin ran possible excuses through his head. Could he say he’d found the money on the street? Could he claim Miz Paige had given it to him?
No. Those were beat excuses. Worse than beat. Stupid-ass, lame-ass, and beat. Also, they were lies. He hated to lie. He still felt bad about lying to his grandmother.
Just past Mr. Smith was one of the small meeting rooms. Everyone in the rec hall was still dancing around, thrilled by Sarge’s amazing announcement.
No one’s gonna miss us if we dip for a few.
“Come on,” he told Mr. Smith. “We need to talk.”
The meeting room was smallish, containing just folding chairs and a whiteboard. The fluorescent lights hummed and flickered. With the door closed, the celebration outside was muffled.
Mr. Smith blocked the door. “Till I hear the truth, no one’s leavin’.”
Robin breathed. The air in the room stank of sour coffee, stale doughnuts, moldy pizza, old lady perfume, and old man sweat. It made Robin want to retch. Or maybe it was just fear of what Mr. Smith would do when he heard the truth.
“Talk, son!” Mr. Smith ordered.
Robin talked.
He started all the way back in grade school, when Tyrone Davis had first called him Shrimp. He confessed how Tyrone and Dodo were shaking him down for homework the same way the Ninth Street Rangers shook down the Shrimp Shack. He talked about how he felt when the Shrimp Shack got trashed. He explained how he, Sly, and Kaykay tried to raise money to save the Center, but how it was impossible.
He told how weak he felt when he’d paid protection money to the Rangers, and how angry he was when he saw the Ranger drug lookout through his window, hiding something across the street.
“I can’t ’zactly explain it, Mr. Smith,” Robin said softly. “It was like somethin’ or someone tellin’ me, ‘Robin Paige, this be your moment. You can either let it go or take it.’ ”
He looked at his friends somberly and then at Mr. Smith. “I took it.”
“You sure did,” Mr. Smith responded. “You done took a chance, and you done took a gang’s money. You know what they gonna do when they find out?”
Robin nodded grimly. “That can’t happen.”
Mr. Smith rocked a little from side to side. “Leastways you did one smart thing. Givin’ it here ’stead of spending it all over the neighborhood.” He turned to Sly and Kaykay. “Whatchu kids think of all this?”
Kaykay spoke with her usual bluntness. “What Robin did with the money is dope. Tyrone and Dodo’s homework? Reverse dope.”
Mr. Smith looked at Sly. “What about you? Wouldn’t your daddy, the preacher man, say your boy, Robin, is a thief? That stealin’ is a sin? An’ that he helped your two classmates steal, in a way?”
Robin saw Sly bristle. “Mr. Smith, you old. I ain’t afraid to say that. You don’t know how it be out there. What Tyrone and Dodo be doin’, makin’ Robin do their homework? What the Rangers be doin’, tellin’ Robin’s grandma to pay them off and then wreckin’ her shop when she don’t? Sellin’ drugs on every corner? Messin’ up the hood? They be the sinners! Not Robin! That’s what my daddy would preach about!”
Wow. That was amazing. Sly sounded just like his daddy!
Mr. Smith rubbed the bristle on his chin with his right hand and then checked to make sure the door was tightly closed. In fact, he locked it.
“Don’t want no one comin’ in for what I gotta say,” he explained. “You kids, sit. My legs be weary.”
Mr. Smith ambled to a folding chair and put himself in it ass-backward, resting his thin arms on the back of the chair. Robin and the other kids got chairs near him.
“Would you do it again, Robin?” Mr. Smith suddenly asked.
The question took Robin by surprise. “ ’Scuse me?”
Mr. Smith raised his thin eyebrows. “It’s not a tough question. Would you do it again?”
“You mean, take money from the bad guys like the Rangers to save a place like the Center?” Robin fired back. “Fo’ sho’, Mr. Smith. I’d do it a hundred times! I hope I get a chance to do it all over again!”
Mr. Smith chuckled lightly. “Well then. Looks like you making yo’self out to be a regular Robin Hood. Stealin’ from the rich, an’ givin’ to the poor.”
Robin hesitated. “You’re not gonna get me in trouble?
Mr. Smith stood and balanced on his cane. “Here’s what I gotta say. I been in this hood a long time. I ’member what it was, and I know what it could be. It ain’t gonna ever be that with the Rangers around. I’ve had my own … my own problems with the gangs.”
“You didn’t have gang problems,” Sly declared. “No way, no how!”
“I did, and I’ll tell you kids ’nother time,” Mr. Smith said. “Just know as much as you hate them gangbangers? I hate ’em more. Now, what Robin did with their money was dangerous, an’ I can’t encourage you kids to do more dangerous things.”
Mr. Smith let the thought hang in the air as he gazed down at each of the kids in turn. To Robin, it felt like Mr. Smith wasn’t just looking at him, but through him, right to the very core of his soul.
“But … if you do decide to do the Robin Hood thing?” Mr. Smith repeated. “Well then, you got a partner in me. And it never hurts to have someone on your side who can pick any lock in the world. I’ll see you kids later.”
He limped out and closed the door behind him. For a moment, the kids looked at each other. Then Sly started dancing, waving his arms like the biggest hip-hop artist in Ironwood, Tone Def.
Robin in da house, Robin in da hood!
Robin in da house, Robin in da hood!
Doin’ all the things dat he think
he should!
Taking from the bad guys,
givin’ to the good,
He my main man, Robin in da hood!
Kaykay laughed. “Robin in da hood. I like that.”
“Well, sure,” Sly switched to his normal voice. “ ’Cause he be a regular Robin Hood, and we be his Merry Gentlemen—and Merry Gentlewoman, I guess.” He peered at Robin. “We really gonna steal from the rich, give to the poor? ’Cause if you want to, I’m in.”
Robin was thoughtful. “If we do, we only steal from bad people. You can be rich and be a good person. Like you gonna be someday, Sly.”
Sly smiled. “You got that right. So, what’s our first job gonna be? And who’s gonna get the money?”
Before he answered, Robin turned to Kaykay.
“You in?” he asked.
She nodded. Robin nodded back, then answered Sly. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe we lay low for a little bit. But I do know the community clinic is in trouble, and my grandma goes there for her doctor.”
“Sounds good,” Sly said. “Now, can we get out of this stinky room?”
Kaykay shook her head. “Go on. I gotta talk to Robin for a sec.”
Sly took off. It was just Robin and Kaykay now.
“You did good, Robin,” she said gently.
“We all did good.”
Then Kaykay did something shocking. She leaned in and kissed Robin softly on the cheek.
He felt hot blood rush to his head. He never, ever thought that she would ever—
Three loud raps on the door broke the moment.
“Who’s in there?!”
It was Sarge. Robin sheepishly opened the door.
“What are you doin’ in there?” the head of the Center demanded.
“Talkin’ ’bout a school assignment,” Kaykay said quickly.
Assignment. That reminded Robin—he still had the Bud, Not Buddy vocab assignment to do for tomorrow. For himself and for Tyrone and Dodo.
“Well, talk later and join the fun,” Sarge told them. “We’re plannin’ a big party for tomorrow. Christmas in September!”
Robin followed Kaykay out. Yes, there was a party to plan. But there was more to plan too. He needed to plan what to do with Tyrone and Dodo so he wouldn’t be doing their homework for the rest of his life. He needed to plan how to take more money from the Rangers without them getting wise to him. He needed to plan who should get that scrilla once he and his crew got hold of it.
After all, he wasn’t just Robin Paige anymore.
He was Robin in da hood.