by Anne Schraff
“I like your pop, Chelsea,” Maya told her. “When I got shot and I was stuck in the hospital, not many people came to visit me. But he come all the time, mostly with your Mom. Once he drug Jaris along, another time all of you. He brought me a giant stuffed honey bear, and he talked to me and stuff. He cheered me up a lot, girl. Your pop just scared some boy gonna push you around if you wearin’ hot tops, you know?”
“But look at you guys,” Chelsea argued. “You guys got short skirts and low-cut tops on.”
Maya giggled. “I ain’t built yet, Chelsea. And Lark here, she look more like a boy! But you’re different. You’re what my mama says is ‘maturin’ fast.’ My sister Sami, she says to me I gotta be careful when I fill out. Then I need to wear tees that say like her tees do, ‘I pick my own dudes, sucka!’ ”
Lark frowned. “I don’t know if I’ll ever look like you, Chelsea,” she complained.
“Just wait,” Maya said, “you just twelve, girl.”
Jaris could have thrown his arms around Maya and given her the hug of her life. She was going to turn out just like Sami. All the people lucky enough to have her for a friend ought to count their blessings. If Jaris had tried to explain to Chelsea why she shouldn’t wear revealing clothes, he might just as well have tried to fly a lead balloon. From Maya, the advice was perfect.
As the girls drifted off, Jaris felt vindicated. He was enjoying his caramel frozen yogurt when Chelsea spoke up. “Athena is so lucky. She gets to do what she wants. She gets to have her lip pierced, and she can even hang out by herself at the Twenty-Four-Seven store. I don’t get to do anything!”
CHAPTER TWO
When Jaris and Chelsea got home, they both went to their computers to do homework. Jaris didn’t pay much attention to what Chelsea was doing. Then he heard laughter coming from the front yard. Jaris looked out the front window to see Athena and Chelsea talking to two boys. Jaris recognized Heston Crawford as one of the boys. His older brother, Nathan, went to Tubman. Jaris didn’t know the other boy. Although they were tall, both boys looked like middle schoolers.
Athena and the boy Jaris didn’t know were wrestling on the grass. The boy wasn’t being rough, but Jaris didn’t like how he was grabbing at Athena. Jaris was afraid that soon Chelsea and Heston would start doing the same thing. Jaris went outside and approached the four teenagers. Athena and the boy got up off the ground immediately. The boy looked nervous at the sight of six-foot one Jaris Spain coming toward him.
“Hi, you guys!” Jaris said in a friendly voice. They all said hi back. Jaris looked at Heston. “Your brother Nathan is getting pretty good on the baseball field. Maybe you’ll play baseball too when you get to Tubman.”
“Yeah,” Heston replied.
Jaris looked at the other boy and asked, “And you are—?”
“Maurice,” the boy answered. He had a sullen look on his face. His hands rested on his hips in a hostile stance.
“Maurice, wrestling with a girl is a real bad idea, man,” Jaris advised. “You hear what I’m saying? You could hurt her.”
Athena gave Jaris a dirty look. “He wasn’t hurting me,” she objected. “We were having fun until you came along.”
“How much you weigh man?” Jaris asked the boy.
“One fifty or something,” Maurice replied.
“Athena weighs a lot less than that, dude,” Jaris persisted. “You’re mismatched. When kids wrestle on teams, weight is considered. So think about that. And have a nice day.” Jaris turned to go back in the house. As he got a few yards away, he heard a boyish voice utter a slur. Jaris turned and asked, “What was that?
” Heston looked upset, but Maurice looked scared. Jaris walked toward Maurice, who was starting to backpedal.
“I’m not gonna try to teach you manners dude,” Jaris said coldly, looking right into Maurice’s eyes. “But I’m gonna tell you just once. Get off the sidewalk in front of our house and go home. Because if you don’t, then I am gonna teach you some manners.”
“Let’s bail man,” Maurice said to Heston. He and Heston took off running. Athena and Chelsea looked shocked and then angry. “You had no business running those boys off like that,” Athena told Jaris.
“I don’t like your boyfriend, Athena,” Jaris told her. “If that’s who that punk, Maurice, is. He has a dirty mouth. I don’t like words thrown around like that.”
“What he said was no big deal,” Athena protested. “You been living underground or something? Music is full of words like that. You stand around any school and you hear stuff like that every coupla minutes. Where you been?” Athena turned to Chelsea, “Come on. Let’s hang down at the Twenty-Four-Seven store.”
“Yeah,” Chelsea agreed, starting to go with Athena.
“Chelsea,” Jaris said, “Mom is gonna be home in about twenty minutes. We promised her we’d start dinner, remember? You were gonna do the salad while I fried the chicken. Mom’s gonna be beat after that long faculty meeting.”
Chelsea shrugged, frustration on her face. “See you tomorrow, Athena,” she sighed, following Jaris into the house.
“Jaris,” Chelsea complained as she washed her hands to make the salad, “that was so freakin’ rude. You embarrassed me in front of my friends.”
“I’m sorry, chili pepper,” Jaris said as he coated the chicken pieces with crumbs. Mom was usually too busy to do much cooking. They ate frozen dinners unless Pop cooked something, which he did more and more often.
“It’s bad enough living with Pop,” Chelsea went on, “and him being on my case all the time without you acting like that. I thought you were on my side.”
“Oh, I am,” Jaris assured her. “I’m way on your side.”
“Then you should respect my friends,” Chelsea said.
“Is Maurice one of your friends, Chelsea?” Jaris asked as the chicken sizzled in the oil. He threw some powdered potato buds into boiling water and added salt and butter. Then he whipped it all into mashed potatoes.
“No,” Chelsea replied. “I don’t even know him. He’s not Athena’s boyfriend either. He’s just a guy at school. He’s kinda yucky. I don’t know whose idea it was to wrestle. I bet you thought me and Heston would wrestle too. But Heston is too nice a guy.”
“Mom will sure appreciate that dinner is ready to go on the table, chili pepper,” Jaris said.
“I can take care of myself, you know,” Chelsea asserted. “You didn’t have to come marching out and make a big scene, Jaris. I mean, you acted like you were the marines or something.”
Jaris turned, looked at his sister, and spoke to her. “I got bad news for you, chili pepper. I was about two years old when I first saw you. Mom said I could watch you sometimes when she was busy. I’d sit there on my trike, and I’d stare at you. I was scared something would happen to you. When you were two and I was four, I’d take you walking around the yard. I never let go of your hand, Chelsea. It was dumb of me, I know, but I thought you’d get lost and I could never find you again. I’ve always felt the need to protect you. ’Cause you’re my little sister and I love you. It’s always going to be that way. I used to need to protect you from getting lost and from dogs, but now I need to protect you from guys like Maurice, and worse.”
“But I don’t need to be protected,” Chelsea cried. “I can take care of my own self. You hear what I’m saying?”
Jaris’s face finally turned hard. “Chelsea, do you remember sneaking off to that party with Brandon Yates?” Chelsea flushed. “You said that was over, that you wouldn’t talk about it,” she said.
“I never told anybody, Chelsea,” he assured her, “just like I said I wouldn’t. But we—you and me—we know about it. One of the creeps there was B.J. Brady. He was dealing drugs then. A few months later he murdered a guy and got killed himself in a police chase. You were right in the middle of that, Chelsea. If I hadn’t busted in to take you home, who knows what would have happened? I won’t tell anybody, ’cause I promised, but I won’t ever forget it either, I promise you that t
oo.”
“I’d never do anything like that again,” Chelsea declared.
“Good,” Jaris said. “See that you don’t. And when Athena wants you guys to go down to the Twenty-Four-Seven store and hang around in the front as crazy dudes drive by whistling and honking, don’t even thing about going. Pretty girls stand around there flirting, and it’s dangerous. A girl hopped on a guy’s motorcycle last year, and she wasn’t heard about or seen for a year. Finally this creep admitted he dumped her body in the bay. He claimed she died from the dope he gave her, but they never found her. Never will probably.”
Chelsea grew quiet. She concentrated on chopping the lettuce, adding slivers of carrots and chunks of tomato. “Do we want ranch or Italian dressing?” she asked.
“Just put the salad in the fridge and let Mom and Pop decide,” Jaris answered.
Mom came in then. “Oh, I smell chicken! Have you wonderful kids got dinner ready? Oh, I had such a day! That faculty meeting threatened to go on forever!” Mom groaned.
“Yeah, me and Chelsea did it,” Jaris replied. “Almost ready to eat.”
Mom dumped her briefcase on the couch in the living room and sat down. Jaris laughed. “Mom,” Jaris chuckled, “you remind me of Mr. Pippin, our English teacher. Your briefcase looks almost as beat up as his does, and you look pretty tired too.”
“Yeah,” Mom agreed. “We’re talking about budget cuts down at the school. Poor Greg is beside himself. We may have to pink-slip some teachers—good, new teachers who’re full of new ideas and enthusiasm! If those people up in the capitol don’t get the budget fixed, we’ll have no choice.”
“That’s too bad,” Jaris said.
“They do this to us every year,” Mom complained. “They can’t arrive at a budget until we’re on the brink of a catastrophe. We end up pink-slipping teachers. Then usually the district finds the money somewhere—after everybody has almost had a heart attack. Greg and I were going over the résumés of the teachers we may have to let go. One of them is so good at teaching math. We can’t bear to lose him. And then there’s a young woman with such rapport with the second-graders.” Mom leaned back in the sofa and pressed her fingers into her closed eyes. “Oh dear, I hope your father doesn’t come roaring home in the mood he was in this morning. I’m not sure I can take his tantrums after a day like today.” Mom looked at Chelsea and said, “I’m really sorry about this morning, sweetie.”
Jaris felt a little sick. He pictured Mom and Greg Maynard in a professional discussion of important educational matters—smooth, even tempered Greg Maynard. Then he thought of Pop about to come bursting into the house like an untamed beast.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Chelsea said.
“Let’s not talk about anything controversial at dinner,” Mom suggested. “Let’s just have a peaceful meal. I promised Greg I’d take another look at the records of these four teachers and give him my input tomorrow. Greg is such a dear. He’s just feeling so deeply for those teachers we may have to dismiss. They’re like family. When we lose teachers who are good and efficient, it’s like losing a family member.”
Pop came in then, grease on his face, looking even more tired than Mom. “Same old, same old down at that junky garage,” Pop complained. “Old beaters keep comin’ in. People tryin’ to keep them goin’. Old Jackson with his stomach trouble again. I’m telling you, he’s giving me stomach trouble just trying to work for him.” Pop headed for the bathroom to shower.
“Thank God he’s going to clean up,” Mom said softly. “Last week twice he didn’t, and he sits down to dinner smelling like a mountain of gym socks.”
Chelsea laughed. “Pop is like a big old wild bear sometimes,” she chuckled.
“I’m just thankful when he gets clean and fresh, and we can have a nice, peaceful dinner,” Mom declared in her best longsuffering voice.
When Pop reappeared, he was wearing a crisp white tee shirt and jeans. He was lean and hard, and he didn’t weigh an ounce more than he had weighed in high school. He was over six feet tall and a solid one sixty-five. There was no question about it: He was very handsome. Jaris could imagine what he looked like when he courted Mom almost twenty years ago. She always joked that she chose him because he was the handsomest boy around, and you could see it still. Most of the fathers of Jaris’s friends had put on considerable weight. Most of them had stomachs sagging over their belts. Not Pop.
Jaris loved and respected his father. He’d always felt that way. As a small boy, Jaris knew of no better place than by his father’s side—riding with him in the pickup, going to the fair, fishing at a small lake, watching a football game. He was proud of his father, even when his father was not proud of himself. This morning, while Pop was yelling at Chelsea because of her clothing, Jaris was proud of Pop for caring enough to keep an eye on Chelsea, not just letting it all slide as so many parents did.
“So,” Pop asked, “what’s new in the world of education, Monie?” There was always a tinge of sarcasm in Pop’s voice when he talked about Mom’s career. Pop felt being a professional educator made Mom feel she was a little better than Pop, who didn’t finish college. In Pop’s mind, she was a teacher married to a “grease monkey,” the term he often used to describe himself.
“Oh,” Mom answered, “the state budget is past due again, and they’re talking about pink-slipping teachers. Some of our talented new teachers are at risk”
“Poor devils,” Pop replied, eating a piece of fried chicken. He grinned at Jaris and Chelsea and told them, “This is good!” Then he returned to the subject at hand. “They urge kids to be teachers, like Jaris here. He maybe wants to be a teacher, Then the bozo politicians screw up the darn budget. Kids figure, ‘Who needs a shaky job?’ ”
“Yes,” Mom agreed. The tension of the morning had thankfully not carried over.
As they finished dinner, the phone rang. Mom frowned immediately as she began talking to the caller. “No, Trudy, Athena isn’t here,” Mom said. “As far as I know, she hasn’t been here today. Chelsea walked to school with Inessa this morning. Oh my goodness! She hasn’t come home from school yet?” Mom put the phone aside. “Chelsea, you didn’t see Athena after school today, did you?”
Chelsea jumped up. “What’s the matter? Is she okay?” she cried.
“She never got home from school,” Mom responded.
“Mom,” Chelsea said, “she was here this afternoon. I was doing homework and she came with two guys from school. We talked and stuff, and then she said she was going to the Twenty-Four-Seven store.”
Mom put the phone to her mouth. “Trudy, wait a minute. I’m going to let you talk to Chelsea.”
Chelsea took the phone. “Mrs. Edson,” she said, “Athena came over here this afternoon with two guys from school. Heston and Maurice. They’re in our classes. They were, all three of them, just talking and stuff, and I went out for a while. Athena asked me to go with her to the Twenty-Four-Seven store, but my brother said I had to come in and help make dinner. So Athena just left.”
Athena’s mother asked what time that was, and Chelsea looked at Jaris. “It was . . . Jaris, what time did Athena leave?”
“About five thirty,” Jaris replied.
“Five thirty, Mrs. Edson.” Chelsea relayed the information. “The boys left earlier. My brother sorta kicked them out. Athena went away alone.”
Mom went back on the phone. “Oh Trudy, it’s almost seven thirty now. I’m so worried about Athena. . . . Good. You go down to the store. She might just be hanging around there. . . . I know. Lotta kids stand around in front and drink sodas.” Mom put the phone down. “That’s terrible that a fourteen-year-old girl isn’t home yet!”
Pop got a dark look on his face. He spoke to no one in particular. “I see those kids hanging there in front of the store when I’m coming home from work and it’s dark already. Young kids, mostly girls. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. I’m thinking, what kinda parents put up with that? They let their kids run wild.”
Pop turned and looke
d at Chelsea, “Now, little girl. Is that the kind of a kid you want to hang with?” He swung toward his wife—on a roll. “Monie,” he declared, “I don’t want that Trudy Edson driving Chelsea around anymore for shopping or anything else. She can’t be much of a mother to let something like this happen. I don’t trust that woman. She hasn’t got a clue about the kind of world we’re living in. She thinks this is Never Never Land and all the boys are Peter Pan. And those guys who were hanging here at the house. I don’t like that either. Cops oughta be asking them some questions.”
“I told them to go home,” Jaris said quietly.
“Good for you, boy,” Pop declared. Then he spoke to Chelsea. “I don’t like you outside hanging around with little jerks, Chelsea. Anybody wants to visit with you, they can come on inside when your parents are home.” Pop was fuming. All the goodwill from the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and salad was gone.
“Poor Athena,” Chelsea said. “I hope nothing happened to her.”
Jaris thought, if he hadn’t intervened when Athena wanted Chelsea to go with her to the Twenty-Four-Seven store, maybe they’d both be missing now. Maybe whatever happened to Athena would have happened to Chelsea too. Life didn’t often offer you a second chance if you screwed up the first time.
Jaris looked at his sister, at the beautiful child who was turning into a young woman before his eyes. Sometimes she looked ten, and sometimes she looked sixteen. Right now she looked about eight, and tears were shining in her eyes. She looked like she needed to hug her brown teddy bear on her bed.
Pop got up slowly and started clearing the table. He looked at his wife, and his dark, smoldering eyes said it all without his uttering a word: “See?” Pop warned silently. “This is what happens to young girls when their parents don’t watch them.”
