Ninth Grade Blues

by Bruce Ingram

  "One last thing," he said. "All you are is one torn ACL from never playing high school football again or ever trying to play in college. You had better remember that and why your grades are so important."

  Chapter Sixty: Mia

  I came up with this great idea to help Luke and me make more money and get to spend more time with him this summer. We have four hens that are incubating about a dozen eggs each, and I told Mama and Poppa that Luke and I could build a second chicken coop as soon as school ended, and I would raise those 50 or so chicks as meat birds and sell them through my website as "fresh, unfrozen, organically raised chickens." Every time I made a sale, I could butcher a chicken and deliver it on my bike if the house was close enough or Mama could drive me there if it wasn't, and I would just add a shipping charge. Poppa said that was a fantastic idea, that he could ask his boss for leftover construction wood and other building material, and it wouldn't cost us anything to build the henhouse and run except for what I had to pay "the white boy working for me." That I could pay him either by the hour or, even better, out of some percentage of what I made selling the chickens. Mama said it was a great idea, too.

  I was really glad that both my parents liked the idea, but then I realized that Poppa didn't understand that Luke and I are partners, that he probably thought the L in L&M in our business stood for lawn mowing or something like that instead of Luke. That one of the things that Poppa likes about my business is that a white boy is working for a Hispanic girl.

  Wednesday, since school is out for the summer at the end of this week, Luke rode the bus home with me so we could work on the henhouse. He said he could jog home after we were finished for the day. We got a lot of work done before Mama and Poppa came home from work, and I was really excited (but a little worried, too) about Poppa meeting Luke. I so want Poppa to see what a nice boy Luke is. When they got home, Mama came over and said hi to Luke and me and said it was good to see him again and she complimented us on how much we had already gotten done. But Poppa didn't say anything to anybody and just went on in the house.

  I had told Luke he could eat dinner with us, and he said that would be great, and I so much wanted Poppa to see how smart he is and how polite. But when dinnertime came, Poppa came out and told me it was time for dinner and to come inside and added that "Mia's mama will be bringing you a sandwich and something to drink" to Luke and for him "to keep on working." It was so rude, and I was both mad and embarrassed and really hurt and I almost started to cry, I was so shocked at Poppa's behavior. But I held back my tears because things were awkward enough, so I just came on inside.

  When I got inside, Mama was starting to serve dinner and she asked where Luke was. Poppa interrupted her and said the white boy was going to eat outside with the chickens. Mama said that was rude, and Poppa disagreed and told her to go bring the boy a sandwich. Mama said she would not, she was going to tell him to come inside; and Poppa got up and slammed the table, got some peanut butter out of the pantry and spooned a gob of it between two pieces of bread, filled up a glass of water, and stormed out of the kitchen. When he got back, nobody said anything during dinner, not even my sisters—they could tell something was wrong and knew not to mess with Poppa. I tried to eat my dinner really fast, but I had been holding back tears for so long, that I started to cry a little, then I just started sobbing...I couldn't help it.

  When I got myself together, I asked to be excused from the table and Poppa nodded, and I went to the bathroom to dry my eyes and compose myself so that Luke wouldn't know I had been crying. I didn't know what to tell him about the dinner, but he was so sweet when I came out; he said to thank my parents for the sandwich and to tell them that he appreciated it. We worked for about two more hours, then it started to get dark and Luke said he had better leave to jog home and that we could work again on Friday when we got out early on the last day of school. I walked over to him and squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back and left. He knew something was up with my poppa's behavior, but he just played it off. He was so sweet and kind to me to do that.

  When I got inside, Mama and Poppa were sitting in our living room and neither one was talking and they both had angry expressions on their faces. I told them that Luke, (and I used his name, I wanted Poppa to at least know what his name was, that he just wasn't "the white boy,") had said to tell them thank you for the sandwich, that he appreciated it. I then said I was going to take a bath and go to bed, I was tired. I started to cry again, but I stopped myself from tearing up in front of Poppa.

  When I got out of the bathroom, I could hear Mama and Poppa arguing. They almost never argue and when they do it is very quiet and very short. But this time, Mama was really angry, and her voice was louder than Poppa's and he was pretty loud, too. I felt bad that I had caused them to argue, but this wasn't my fault. Poppa behaved in a shameful way. After they finished arguing, Mama came to my room and asked if I was asleep, and of course I said no, and she apologized for Poppa's behavior. she said that she liked Luke and that she preferred that I go out with a Hispanic boy next year when I could date, but if Luke was the boy I wanted to go out with, she would be okay with that...that I had to make my own decisions about those things, and she knew that I would never let her down. I thanked and thanked Mama and hugged her so hard. And then I said that I had a confession to make, that Luke and I had already planned our first date when school started in August, that we were going to go on a picnic when the first saturday came.

  The next day after school, when Mama and Poppa came home from work, I was out working on the henhouse, doing some simple odds and ends. Poppa came over to me and asked if I knew that he worked on the construction gang with Ricardo's father, "you know, the family that lives several blocks down the street," the same family that goes to mass with us. I said yes, and Poppa said that Ricardo's poppa had said Ricardo (he's a rising senior at my school) had asked about me and said he had been thinking about asking me out next year when school started back up, and I was old enough to date. I told Poppa that Ricardo wasn't "my type," and Poppa said, "We'll see about that," and turned around and left.

  I don't want to ever disobey my parents, but I wouldn't be disobeying Mama when I go out with Luke next year. I don't know how this is going to turn out.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bruce Ingram is a high-school English teacher and lifelong outdoorsman who has written five well-reviewed river guides set in his native Virginia. He and his wife Elaine have also written the Living the Locavore Lifestyle, a guide to more sustainable and healthy living based on hunting, fishing, gathering, and gardening. Ninth Grade Blues is his first novel. Look for the sequel, Tenth Grade Angst, in 2018.