“This is why they’re celebrating,” said Mr. Tesla sullenly.
Naz and Meri walked over to the small television set Mr. Tesla’s eyes were glued to.
“What is it?” asked Meri.
“A fire,” said Mr. Tesla.
Naz finally made out the twisted scene on the screen and understood why Tone was making the siren sound. It was a familiar building he had seen only three days ago on his way to International Academy. The monstrosity was ablaze; someone had set the king of the mega chain superstores, Major General, on fire, and it was pandemonium. The reporter on TV said at least one firebomb went off inside the store and most of the people weren’t able to get out before the entrance collapsed. Now, people were looting the adjacent gas station and party store across the street. They kept showing the same scene over and over again of someone running and screaming, their body on fire from head to toe.
Naz noticed the disturbed look on Meri’s face, grabbed her arm, and pulled her away from the television. He pulled a chair out for her at the square table, making sure her back was to the television.
“Let’s eat.” Naz took the radio off Mr. Tesla’s desk and put it on the table. “Put it on that station … you know, the oldies one that plays … Love Child.” He took the sandwiches out of the refrigerator. “You want yours heated?”
Meri barely shook her head, as she struggled to turn on the radio.
“Me either,” said Naz.
Naz took two small plates out of a cabinet above the refrigerator, put the sandwiches on them, and sat at the table with Meri. He turned the radio up just loud enough to drown out the sounds of the television. Mr. Tesla did not protest, as he seemed to have stopped listening for a while now himself. Naz tried to make small talk with Meri about anything: tryouts, chess, Artie, Ham, even the girl, but it was no use; the images had taken their toll. He could see her lips moving and he knew she was singing the lullaby again, the lullaby their mother used to sing to them. It was a habit she had developed to calm herself, a substitute for crying, something she hadn’t done for over two years, something she hadn’t done since her mother had died. The radio drowned her out, but Naz could easily read her lips as she sang:
It’s only been a while now
Known and loved you all your life
I’ll always be here for you
Through darkness be your guide
Your light
I need to tell you this
Just before you fall off to sleep
I pray your soul He always will keep
I need to tell you this
Just before you fall off to sleep
I pray your soul He always will keep
Naz figured it must’ve worked because she hadn’t cried, at least not in front of him, but the song itself must’ve felt hollow to her, as Meri could clearly see now her mother wouldn’t always be there for her as she had promised.
Then Naz realized he had unknowingly sat facing the picture, on the center of the table, the one he had always managed to avoid: the picture of a young Mr. Tesla and his sweetheart, his wife, his one true love that was no more. He imagined all the possibilities, all the ways she could have met her horrible fate here in this place: the Exclave, where no matter how good a day could get it was certain to end in calamity. He could never bring himself to ask Mr. Tesla what had happened to her.
“Now, why are they celebrating again?” Naz asked, attempting to break the solemn mood in the booth.
“Because they feel that we’ve struck a blow to the ones who will ultimately decide our fate,” answered Mr. Tesla.
Mega discount department store chains had sprung up throughout the Exclave and had either swallowed up or put more than half of the Market Merchants out of business. Ibrahim Moussa, owner of Piccolo’s, one of the four Markets Naz worked for, had just about gone under.
“But aren’t those our people … people who live in the Exclave, killing and dying on TV?” asked Meri softly as she turned down the radio.
“Yes, more was lost tonight because of those acts of violence than can ever be gained from them, and there will be swift retribution from those who will, in due course, end our existence,” said Mr. Tesla.
“Some of my friends’ parents work at Major General,” said Meri.
“Not anymore.” Naz shook his head.
“Don’t mention it,” said Tone.
“Can he fly?” giggled Meri.
“Like an Eagle,” said Mr. Tesla pointing at Tone. “You’re looking at the only African Grey parrot in the Exclave whose wings have never been clipped.”
“He’s probably the only African Grey parrot in the Exclave.” Naz laughed as he handed Tone a piece of corned beef over his shoulder.
“Then why doesn’t he fly away?” asked Meri.
“Would you fly away if someone carried you around and fed you like a baby all day long?” asked Mr. Tesla.
“Don’t mention it. Don’t mention it.” Tone made a laughing sound, as he bobbed up and down on Naz’s shoulder.
“I guess not,” chuckled Meri.
Naz shrugged nonchalantly. Mr. Tesla and Meri shook their heads.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE LADY IN RED
Naz had cut it close; it was dusk when he and Meri left MeeChi’s, and he was tired, almost exhausted. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and between tryouts and the rest of the stress that filled the day he was whipped. He didn’t feel like he could run the half-mile home, and Meri wasn’t willing either. He estimated, with a brisk walk, they would just barely make it home before it was completely dark.
Naz had only been out this late twice before: once in the summer with Ham, and three days earlier with Meri and Artie, barely surviving a run in with three boys from a gang. He couldn’t help but feel vulnerable now with Meri to protect. If something happens, what would I do? He remembered the words, “how you gonna survive on the street without some kind of weapon?” Was Ham on to something? The worst thing I can do now is start worrying and lose focus. I have to calm myself, focus all of my senses and stay aware of my surroundings. Chatter surrounded them, as if it were the middle of the day. One man tried to stop them and ask for directions. Naz ignored him and kept going.
“That was rude,” said Meri.
Naz saw what appeared to be a man and woman stumbling toward them and he immediately grabbed Meri’s hand and pulled her across the street.
“Can you run, if you have to?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Give me your book bag.”
The man stumbling across the street was yelling something about Major General burning in Hell, while a boy smaller than Meri ran by repeating, over and over again, there was a riot in 19. Then, a woman screamed.
Meri jumped and let go of Naz’s hand. It was just ahead of them and to their right. Naz looked at Meri and grabbed her hand again. She stared in the direction of the scream.
“Come on,” Naz said, pulling her forward.
She froze.
“Hey! Look at me!” Naz said.
Meri looked at Naz, her eyes as wide as they could open.
“If anything happens, you run home as fast as you can. You know the way from here, right? It’s only three more blocks.”
She nodded as she looked in the direction of the scream. “Why? Where you goin’?”
“I’m not going anywhere, but just in case.”
Naz looked in every direction. Two people walking behind them, but Naz had managed to keep them at a considerable distance. The drunken man and woman directly across the street must’ve stopped to see what was going on when they heard the woman scream. There was no way to go but forward.
“Meri, keep walking and look straight ahead.”
They continued walking, quickening their pace.
This time the woman screamed, “Help!”
Meri screamed. They turned to the right. Two men dragged a woman wearing a red dress into an abandoned house. The house was cast in shadows, but crumbling st
airs leading to the doorless entrance and the wobbly banister connected to them were clearly visible. The woman screamed help repeatedly and fought furiously when she saw Naz and Meri, but the two men just laughed and invited Naz and Meri to join them for the party inside.
“Let’s go!” Naz said desperately, as he dragged Meri by her arm.
“Do something!” said Meri.
It was too dark for Naz to see what was what, and in the confusion he couldn’t tell if he was hearing the voice or not. The two men continued to laugh along with a third man that Naz didn’t see, as they struggled with the lady in red. Naz looked at the couple across the street. One of them was now trying to help the other one who had fallen. Whoever it was behind Naz and Meri had now turned and gone the other way.
“Why don’t you help her?” he thought he heard the voice ask in all the confusion.
“Meri!” Naz cursed. “Let’s go!” This time he picked up Meri and on spaghetti legs ran as fast as his could. All the while Meri screamed for him to do something. When he got in front of their house, he set her down. “Shut up, Meri!”
“Why didn’t you help her?”
“Meri, I’m thirteen years old … barely a teenager. Those men would’ve killed me, and…” He didn’t wanna think about what they might have done to her.
“So, you’re just gonna let them—”
“I’m not gonna let them do anything. That lady had on a red dress, in this neighborhood, after dark. For all I know, she was a…”
“She was a what? Say it.”
“Wait.” Naz pulled out his phone and made an anonymous call to the police telling them what had happened. “You feel better now?”
“What’s that gonna do? You know they ain’t comin’.”
“Yeah, ’cause they got sense.”
“Who’s out there?” Miss Tracey was looking out of the window.
“It’s just us, Miss Tracey,” said Naz.
“What are you two doing out there? Get in here. You’re late! You had me worried to death.”
“Don’t you say anything,” Naz said in a hushed tone to Meri as they entered the house.
Inside, Naz and Meri tried to act as if nothing had happened, but they were both clearly shaken. When things calmed down, Naz asked Miss Tracey to sign his permission slip to play basketball. As predicted, she refused, saying she didn’t think he had time for basketball, but she might reconsider after seeing his first report card.
Later that night before bed, Naz knocked on Meri’s door.
“Come in.”
“You OK?” He asked as he stuck his head through the door.
“No.”
“Well, I’m glad you feel better. I need you to sign my permission slip.” He picked up the bottle of Bayer aspirin on the dresser as he stood in the doorway. “One a day, right?” He put the permission slip on her dresser and the bottle of aspirin on top of it.
“The doctor said I don’t have to take them every day anymore.”
“But he said it wouldn’t hurt either … right?” He backed out of her room.
She stuck her tongue out at him as he closed her door.
He could just barely hear her say as he closed the door, “I hate this place.” He wondered if she meant the Exclave, or staying with Miss Tracey—Truth be told, they’re one in the same. He knew Miss Tracey was setting him and Meri up by not signing his permission slip. She knew Meri would forge her signature and then she would have ammunition to use against them if she should ever need it.
Before Naz went to bed, he sent the other merchants the message he had planned to send. They all responded similarly that they were not upset, just worried about Naz and Meri, considering the day’s events.
Naz thought about the voice, as he got ready for bed. He had heard it earlier at school that day, but it didn’t bother him, and he didn’t remember hearing it at all on the way home with Meri, although he couldn’t be sure with all that was going on. Dr. Gwen had once told him to listen to the voice, and if he didn’t like what he heard to take a deep breath, calm down, and it would go away. That had been the case. Maybe I’m learning to live with it … or control it. He also remembered Dr. Gwen saying his sleepwalking would gradually decrease as he got older. He was thinking, maybe it would be the same with the voice.
He picked up the remaining five darts on his nightstand and took aim as he often did before he turned off his light and got into bed. Before he could throw, he noticed the dart he had thrown that morning—wow … bullseye. He had never been that precise before—not even in the light—remembering he had thrown it with his lights out. Excited, he wanted to tell Meri, but knew she either wouldn’t believe him or chalk it up to some religious experience, so he shrugged it off.
As he lay in bed, he knew that any sleep he got would be restless sleep. He thought of tryouts and how much fun he had and the reason he went in the first place: her face, her smile, like the sun. He would doze off only to awaken from the nightmarish scream of Meri and the lady in red in his dreams. Did she meet her fate there in that abandoned house and could he have done something to save her, or was she in league with those two men trying to lure him and Meri into something even more sinister? All night long he went back and forth between sweet dreams and sleep-stopping nightmares.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMPTY
It had only been a week since tryouts, and Naz struggled to keep his eyes open in science as he rolled his pencil back and forth on his desk. He had spent half the day Saturday and all day Sunday in bed, but he was still running on empty. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so tired. Fears wasn’t joking about no team of his ever losing on account of being out of shape. For the whole first week of practice the team didn’t even see a basketball. Fears said his goal in the first week was to have at least three players throwing up by the end of each practice. Some of the boys tried throwing up on purpose, but it didn’t work. Fears just kept right on going. One day Ham became light-headed and had to spend the second half of practice lying down in Fears’ office.
They ran suicides, laps and then more suicides. Fears’ idea of rest or a break from running was defensive shuffles and back-pedaling, and they did so many pushups and sit-ups they could barely straighten their arms out or walk upright. On top of all of that, Naz had to work for the Market Merchants and go to therapy on Fridays.
Fears agreed to dismiss Naz twenty minutes early from practice each day as long as Naz came in early the next morning or during lunch hour and made up whatever he had missed. Naz came to practice an hour late on Fridays after therapy and had to make that time up as well. Naz also changed his route with the Market Merchants to make it more conducive for him and Meri getting home before sundown. He would pick up Meri right after basketball practice and go directly to Bellarusso’s. From there it was Mercado’s, Piccolo’s, then MeeChi’s where he and Meri would have a quick meal then hurry to make it home just before dark.
Meri complained about the longer routes she had to cover, protesting, “It was a journey.”
Naz reminded her of the doctor’s orders about strengthening her heart to make it more resistant to the stress a normal heart was resistant to. He convinced her the longer routes were worth it by telling her she would be in better shape when she tried out for International Academy’s tennis team the next school year.
Tennis was another one of Meri’s obsessions ever since she saw the sport while watching the Olympics on TV when she was six. But tennis was unheard of in the Exclave. All the places that used to even resemble tennis courts were now infested with section gangs, drug dealers, users, pimps, and prostitutes. Naz used the money he made working extra hours in the summer and the help of Mr. Tesla, Francis, and Richelle to keep Meri in tennis camps and clinics outside of the Exclave all summer long in spite of a not-always-agreeable Miss Tracey.
The last thing on his mind was science as he continued to roll his pencil back and forth on his desk and think about the past week and how hopelessly tired he was. But at l
east she’s sitting here next to me now. What more could he ask than to have her as his lab partner? Finally, he thought, as all the pain, all the stress and fatigue of the past week began to float away. But how did she get here? She whispered something to him, but it was too quiet for him to hear. She gestured with her hand for him to lean toward her.
As he slowly leaned, he began to feel himself falling and immediately woke up from his dream. In an effort to catch himself, he sent an empty test tube that was on the workbench just in front of him crashing to the floor.
He had become the prince of popularity overnight at Lincoln, so instead of laughing, several of the students came to his assistance in cleaning up the shattered tube. The confused girl next to him pointed to the broken pencil on his desk, inquiring how he had done it. This prompted Naz to examine his hand for splinters. There were none. The science teacher, Mrs. Wilson, peered at Naz impatiently. She drummed her fingers on her desk then acknowledged that Naz must’ve been spreading himself too thin and that he should probably take a much needed bathroom break to clear his head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DILL & DENALI
In the bathroom Naz splashed water on his face. This would make the third time today, and it wasn’t helping. He hoped his body would eventually adjust to the pace, as Fears had said it would, but right now he needed a break. Between classes, he decided to go home early, so he went to his locker to get his things. Artie walked down the hall with Dill and Denali, two boys from his next hour social studies class.
Dillon Dixon and Denali Taylor were two of the many resident bullies of Lincoln Middle School. Like Soul, they were bigger and older than a lot of the boys, only they didn’t have basketball to channel their frustrations and the pressure of living in the Exclave. They constantly disrupted class and on one occasion, when the teacher physically threatened them, Dill smugly let him know that it was against the rules for teachers to put their hands on students. Harvis, who had had enough, calmly let the boys know the same rules did not apply to him and there were no more problems, at least not in social studies class.
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