His ankle was throbbing by now, and he took a couple of Tylenols. He really should get off it for a while. What would his tolerance for pain be if someone really cleaned his clock on the field? Memories of young men writhing on the turf at games he’d watched last year invaded his mind while he scrubbed chicken grease off the blue cast-iron skillet.
Sharice was engrossed in cheerleader routines in front of the house, the lawn mower, gas can and oil can parked on the sidewalk.
“You gonna try out for cheerleader, Shar?”
“You bet! Don’t they always have cheerleader tryouts during the first week of school?”
“I suppose.” Justin checked the oil dipstick. Just a little under full; no need to add any.
“And I’ll have a much better chance here in a smaller school, don’t you think?”
“I don’t see why not.” He tucked the gas can spout into the filler neck and carefully poured.
“Justin, do you think I’ll be a good cheerleader?”
Justin twisted the gas tank lid on. “Of course. The best. You’ll be showin’ these country kids what’s up the first time you have a game. Now, listen up. Try not to hit any branches bigger than my thumb.” He poked his thumb so close to her eyes that she had to look at it cross-eyed. “See my thumb? Gee, you’re dumb.” He grinned at her.
“Oh, Justin, that’s old. You do that to little kids.”
“And that makes you … ?”
“Well, I’m a kid, but not a little kid. Now, let’s get this lawn mowed.”
Mrs. Garrison peered at the pair of them a little suspiciously as Justin explained why his little sister and not he was mowing her lawn. But he assured her that she was experienced, too, and that he would be supervising every move Sharice made. Sharice glared at him, then. Am I always going to make women mad at me? Justin sighed silently. I gotta learn how to talk to them right, I guess.
* * *
Justin slapped the ten that Mrs. Garrison handed him into Sharice’s hand. She opened her mouth, but stopped, pushed it into her pocket, and faced Mrs. Garrison.
“Thank you, ma’am. Please let us know when we can help you again.”
“I will, young lady. And now, if you’d do me the pleasure of drinking this lemonade up, on my front porch … “ She gestured toward a tray at the top of the steps with three frosty glasses on it.
Sharice took four big gulps from hers and doubled over in pain from the cold. “Oh, Justin, it HURTS!”
Justin sipped leisurely at his glass. “I bet. Slow down, Shar.”
“Try breathing deeply, dear.” Mrs. Garrison winked at Justin. “That helps sometimes.”
Sharice crossed her eyes and pinched her nose, gulping in warm air. “Whoosh! Not much, ma’am.”
Justin shook his head. “Always happens, Mrs. Garrison. My sister is a glutton when it comes to cold lemonade. Umph.”
Sharice kicked Justin in the shin and glared at him. “But when she wants to, she does good work,” he continued. Even her cooking isn’t bad.”
“I made fried chicken for dinner today. And Justin had three pieces! Now, who’s the glutton?”
“Well, I certainly can tell you two are brother and sister,” Mrs. Garrison chuckled. “You’re just like my own grandkids, when they’re here. Pity it isn’t very often.” Again she stared vacantly down the street.
“Yes, ma’am,” Justin said. “We fuss a little, but we can take care of ourselves if we need to, like when our mom is working.”
“Your mother is at the candy factory now, is she?”
“Yes; she’s on the line, but she thinks with her experience she’ll be able to move up to supervisor in six months or so.”
Mrs. Garrison fixed Justin with a hard stare. “I’m sure she’s capable, Justin. But don’t be surprised if she doesn’t move up very fast. She and all the others were brought in because they’re cheap labor and non-union. We had quite a tizzy at a council meeting about a year ago when the candy factory moved in. We weren’t happy about … well, forgive me, but what we thought were riff-raff being brought into town. I guess we should have been a little more tolerant, but you know how people in a small town are when things change.”
Sharice stared at her, but Justin nodded. “No offense taken, Mrs. Garrison. We understand, and we don’t like change any more than you do. Why, Shar was even going to run away from home when she found out that we were going to move out here. Ow.” He rubbed his shin in response to Sharice’s kick and gave her a dirty look. “Maybe I’ll start charging you a buck a kick and deduct it from your wages next time, young lady?”
Sharice giggled. “Go ahead. Maybe you’ll have to do the next yard on one foot, Hopalong?”
Justin sighed. He’d never win, ever, when it came to dealing with women.
Chapter Nine
The main hall of the high school was noisy, with long lines of impatient students bunched in front of tables loaded with boxes of orientation material. Many of the students, like Justin, wandered away from the tables in front of the office with a schedule card in their hands, looking at the room numbers on the doorframes. Justin peered at his card, ambled toward the next door, and then turned an about-face and headed in the opposite direction. The hall smelled of floor polish, new clothes, perfume, and bubble gum, and at the far end, the sun silhouetted the moving figures. His ankle was still a little tender, although he wasn’t limping, but if he wasn’t careful in watching the time he might not …
“Hey! It’s nice to see some ebony in these ivory halls, if you get my drift.” Justin felt a slap on his shoulder and jumped. He gritted his teeth and turned to offer his opinion of anyone who disturbed his concentration and looked straight into a face deploying a wide grin and large, dark eyes surrounded by swinging, frosted braids.
“Well, don’t look so surprised, my brother. I’m Ranaé Taylor. Been here for three years, and you’re only about the fourth black person I’ve seen walking through good ole Niotaka High.”
Justin opened his mouth, but a bell rang and cut him off.
“That’s the five-minute warning bell, so I gotta run. See ya, Justin. Oh, if you get elected Stuco room rep, I’ll see ya in meetings; I’m the vice-president this year.” And Ranaé disappeared into the crowd.
Stuco rep? Not if he could help it. Miss Vice-president was on her own, and Justin wasn’t in the mood for any more fun-filled activities.
The rest of the day was filled with jostling students, teachers reciting only slightly-varied room rules, brightly-colored, crisp textbooks or faded, sloppy ones being handed out, and in a couple of classes, homework assigned to be due the next day. Justin couldn’t remember in his fifth-hour class what he had just eaten for lunch, although he was sure he had eaten enough, as his stomach wasn’t rumbling, and the white faces that he had passed in the hallway blurred into a composite which faded into a brown face with large eyes, framed by frosted braids.
The final bell rang to end his sixth-hour class. Justin’s locker was on the same floor, and he was able to get the locker door open before the hallway filled. He dumped the books for the classes that he remembered had no homework for the next day and was about to clean out his Trapper-Keeper when he felt a firm grip on his elbow.
“All right, chump,” a voice intoned into his ear.
Justin turned and looked into heavy-lidded eyes under a shock of stringy, light-brown hair. He couldn’t tell if they were bloodshot or not.
“Hey, Tony. I thought you were still back on the east side in Topeka.”
“Until yesterday I was. But then my mama got a job just like yours did in the candy factory. Hey, you gotta minute?”
“Naw, man, I got football practice in a coupla minutes. Coach don’t tolerate tardies, neither.”
“I’ll walk you over there. I gotta business proposition.”
Justin stared at him. “You know I don’t do that stuff, man.”
“Aw, it ain’t like that. Just listen.”
Justin sighed and slammed and locked his
locker. Tony had been busted at least once for dealing, and the last Justin knew he had been trying to finish up his sophomore year at the second-chance school, a year behind his former classmates. He thought that he had a good chance to leave his past behind in Topeka, and he didn’t have a very good feeling about Tony showing up in Niotaka.
Several of the football players headed toward the stadium nodded to Justin but gave the two of them a cynical look as they passed.
“No smokin’, now, Justin,” Eric catcalled, and Justin pantomimed a drag on an imaginary cigarette.
“Let’s talk over here, behind the bleachers. Hey, how’s your dad getting along, Justin?”
Justin froze. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Tony?”
Tony leaned against a column and pulled a pack of Camels from his pocket. “Smoke?”
Justin shook his head and gestured towards the field. “Look, I got better things to do than to jawbone with crackheads, you know?”
Tony shielded the cigarette from the wind and lit it, taking a long drag and inhaling it. “Don’t be so hostile. He gets out of Lansing in what, five, six years?”
“All, right, Tony, let’s cut the crap. What is it that you want from me?”
“Chill, man. You don’t gotta be belligerent and stuff.”
Justin stared at him.
“All I want from you is names. You know, prospects. Like anyone who might want a little something to smoke now and then. I’m new here, and I don’t know anyone but you. And your family.”
“Like I grew up in Mayberry, here? And I keep a list in my sock drawer?”
“Yeah, well, let’s say you have more connections with the natives than I do.” Tony gestured towards the football field.
“Maybe.”
“And maybe you don’t need a rep here in Mayberry like you did on the east side in Topeka?”
Justin gritted his teeth. “Well, what if I just can’t help you out? Far as I know, weed isn’t a high priority item in Niotaka. I have no clue if anyone is smoking around here or not.”
“That’s your problem. And protecting your reputation is your problem, too, chump. Which I can help you with if you help me out a little.”
“Well, thanks a lot, pal. How nice of you to drop by and help out. Now, get lost. I got practice, and I’m late already.”
“I don’t think you quite understand, G. You give me names, you protect your lily-white reputation, so to speak.”
Justin stared at Tony, who outweighed him by perhaps 10 pounds. He’d be a perfect linebacker, he thought. Nope, they don’t take linebackers who have to take a smoke break between quarters and can’t stop coughing. And the stringy hair would have to go.
“I don’t think YOU understand, chump. Maybe you fried your brain a long time ago? Now, get the hell out of my face.”
Tony took a step toward him, but stopped. “Big mistake, football jock. Watch your back from now on, and keep your ears open. Never know what you may hear from the back row!” He turned away, chuckling to himself, and pulled a cell phone from his hip pocket and stared at the screen, pecked at the keyboard with both thumbs, and stared again.
Justin shook his head, turned, and trotted to the stadium and almost ran into Buck as he turned the corner
“Wait up, Justin. We gotta talk.” Buck plucked at his sleeve, and Justin gritted his teeth.
“Not now, man. Coach Greene’s gonna be torqued enough as it is.”
“He’ll wait. I told him I needed to see you for a sec.”
Justin dropped his book bag. “All right, shoot.”
Buck gestured past Justin’s shoulder. “What did that loser want, anyway? Something you can’t help him with, I hope?”
“Something like that. He’s from Topeka. And he’s definitely from the past.”
“I hope so. My dad … “ Buck dropped his eyes and scuffed his toe. “I mean, we were warned about that clown showing up here. He’s bad news.”
“Yeah, you got that right.”
“Okay, Justin. Bottom line is that if you need any help, you got it.”
Justin stared at Buck. “Help, as from the top down?”
“No, not quite like that. We … I … well, there’s more than one way to deal with bad influences like that greaser. And your T. J. problem, too.”
“Yeah. We had our ways in the big city, too, and I learned how to take care of myself there. Look, I gotta get going before Coach Greene does his atomic bomb imitation, okay?”
“Don’t worry about Greene. I can handle him. Just keep me in mind if you get pushed into a corner by that hairball, Tony. Ya know what I mean?”
Justin nodded, they clasped hands, and he picked up his bag and jogged into the locker room.
Coach Greene glared at him as he dropped his book bag on a bench and peeled his shirt.
“Sorry, coach. Old friend from Topeka. I couldn’t shake him.”
Coach opened his mouth, stopped, and shook his head and turned to the rest of the team.
“All right, ladies, on the field. We’ll start with wind sprints to run off all that cafeteria food you grubbed today.”
A chorus of groans answered him.
“We gotta game against Lincoln in four days. You all want to end up like grease spots in the middle of the field? We’ve been scouting those boys, and they average about 10 pounds on you in the backfield and 20 on the line. You’re gonna have to outrun those bozos, or they’re squash you like a buncha maggots. All right, on your feet and outta here!”
Chapter Ten
The next four days for Justin was a succession of being bumped in the hallways, whirring classroom fans stirring up hot air, droning teachers, surprise quizzes for which he wasn’t ready, standing in line in the steaming cafeteria, and wind sprints and hard hits during practices. His ankle mended quickly, so that by the middle of the week it felt normal and not at all puffy. He didn’t see Tony at all, and by the end of the week he had all but forgotten him.
The Friday afternoon pep assembly seemed like a whirlwind of blaring trombones, cartwheeling cheerleaders, and twirling pompons that somehow came together at the end with a unison rendition of the school song. Justin mumbled through it, trying not to look at the half-sheet of blurry lines someone at the door to the gymnasium had pressed into his hand. The highlight of the assembly had been the roof-rousing cheer after all of the football team had been ordered to the center of the gym and the senior football players had been individually announced, but Justin felt that somehow he was in the wrong place and should have stayed on the bleachers with the rest of the students, even though he noticed that the orange and black jersey he wore all day brought him a few admiring glances in the hallways. He even got that wide grin from Ranaé before sixth hour, and again a vision of dancing, frosted braids stayed with him until the dismissal bell for the pep assembly.
He’d agreed to pick Sharice up today after school, as there was no practice on Fridays, game days. He had expected to find her chatting with other girls when he picked her up at the side entrance of the middle school building, located in the next block from the high school, but she was sitting alone on the curb, her head on her fists, unsmiling. She slammed her backpack into the back seat so hard that the car rocked, and she stared straight ahead through the windshield.
Justin glanced at her as he pulled away from the curb. “Nice day to you, too. Okay, little sis, what’s up?”
“Nothin’.” Her lower lip began to jut.
For two blocks, no words passed between them. Then, at the stoplight, Justin watched a tear course down her cheek. “What’s wrong, Sharice?”
The tear turned into a flood. “Oh, Justin, I can’t be a cheerleader. They already had tryouts, and unless someone quits the team or gets kicked off, I won’t have a chance until next year!” She rubbed her cheeks and sniffed.
“Well, how about going out for volleyball, then?”
“Too late. I’m always too late. It’s not fair!”
“Well, we’ll be around next yea
r, probably, and you’ll have your chance then.”
“I don’t want to wait. I want to be a cheerleader THIS year.”
Justin shook his head. “Well, at least you can still cheer for the team from the bleachers. Why don’t you make sure that you sit in the front row and wave a banner or pompon or something so that the sponsor notices you? Don’t they have a pep club or something like that in middle school?”
“Yes. I joined it yesterday.”
“Well, there you go, Sharice. Run for office or something. Volunteer for a project. You always were good with paintbrushes, and they always need someone to help with the signs. You can do that for now.”
The corners of her mouth quirked. “Do you really think they’d notice me if I sat on the front row and yelled real loud?”
“Notice you? They’d probably have to pass out earplugs to the players out on the field. Yeah, I can just see the cheerleaders cringing in pain, crying for someone to haul you away before their eardrums break.”
“Oh, ha, ha. Very funny.” Sharice wiped away the last of the tears and folded her arms. But Justin noticed that her lip didn’t stick out any more and that she seemed lost in thought.
Justin pulled the car into the driveway and shut off the ignition. “Listen, I have to be back at school to dress out for the game by 5:30. Are you going to the game?”
“Of course, silly. I can walk, but what about afterwards? I don’t think Mom would be very happy with you if she found out that you made me walk home in the dark.”
“Hm. You could always get a ride with Mom, but I suppose that would be way too early for you. I guess I can drop you off, but you’ll probably have to wait until we get done in the locker room, Could take up to an hour, maybe as late as 10:30. Okay?”
She flashed him a smile. He knew that she’d be in her element hanging out with the rest of the crowd waiting for the football players to emerge from the locker room. “Okay, Justin. I’ll wait for you.”
“But maybe just this time. Maybe you could get a ride next time? You never know, I might have a … er, someone else to drive … ah, home, and I might not be able to give you a ride.” The vision of swinging braids attacked him again.
“Oh, yeah? I don’t suppose that someone else might be a gu-u-rl, huh?”
“Well, you never know. Or I might have to take a turn giving someone on the team a ride home. And you wouldn’t want to be a little nuisance, now, would you?”