Robinson's Hood

by Jeff Gottesfeld

  “I … I …”

  What to say? What to say? What to—I got it!

  “Gramma, I heard a kitten!”

  “You heard what?!”

  “I heard a kitten!

  Robin thought Miz Paige was going to unload the baseball bat on his behind. But then his grandmother seemed to realize they were still out on the street. She moved Robin aside, got out her own keys, and opened the building door. Then, under the harsh lighting of the yellow hallway, she lit into him again.

  “You done heard a kitten! We live on the worst block in the city, and you go outside in your stocking feets ’cause you done heard a kitten! Who you think you be, Robin Paige? Doctor D-o-o-little?”

  Robin had a vague idea of who Doctor Dolittle was—some guy from an old Eddie Murphy movie who could talk to animals. He was in deep now. He hated to lie to his grandma, but he had to make the kitten story sound real.

  “It’s true! I was up in my room readin’, an’ the window was open, an’ I heard this kitten on the street. It sounded so sad. Then I heard the momma cat screechin’. The kitten was cryin’, and it was breakin’ my heart. I went to the window, and they were both in the middle of the street. Then a car came. Momma cat ran one way, and the kitten ran the other. Then the mother cat couldn’t find the kitten and was wailin’ up a storm. So I decided to go out and try to bring the kitten back to the momma.”

  Miz Paige frowned and wrinkled her forehead but didn’t say anything.

  She don’t believe me, Robin thought frantically. She don’t believe me. If she don’t believe me, what’s she gonna do? Search me? Please, Gramma. Please! Don’t search me!

  Robin decided the best thing to do was to confess.

  “Gramma, the truth is, I—”

  Miz Paige cut him off. “You a good person, Robin. Your daddy—my son—was a good person too. Like you. Maybe too good. Come to think of it, I heard that cat screechin’ too.”

  “You did?” Robin couldn’t believe he might get out of this alive.

  His grandmother nodded. “Uh-huh. But next time you hear a lil’ kitten in the street after dark? Call me. Call the animal shelter. Call anyone. Jus’ don’t go out there by yo’self!”

  Omigod. She believes me. Now say the two most important words in the whole English language.

  “Okay, Gramma.”

  “Okay. Hey! How come your fingers all bleedin’?” Miz Paige pointed the thick end of the baseball bat at Robin’s right hand.

  “Uh … ”

  “Robin?”

  “Well … I was chasin’ the kitten, an’ it scratched me!” Robin knew that was lame.

  “Did you bring it back to its momma?” Miz Paige asked.

  Robin shook his head. “After it cut my finger, it ran away. Or something.”

  Once again, he felt her on the verge of not believing him. Who could blame her? His story was so lame-ass.

  But Miz Paige believed him.

  “Okay, Robin. Let’s go up,” she said. “Take a shower and get to bed. And if you ever go out like that again? I’ve never hit you. Not one time since your momma and daddy passed on. But if you do this again? I’m gonna tan your hide, and no one’s gonna blame me!”

  Safe. I’m safe!

  His grandmother embraced him. He hugged her back, but he was careful not to let her feel the envelope still tucked into his waistband.

  A few moments later, Robin was letting them into the apartment.

  The apartment was small, but it had everything they needed. Robin sometimes wondered what rich folks did with all the empty rooms in their mansions. If you had a family of four, did you really need seven bedrooms?

  There was his little bedroom, a slightly bigger one for his grandmother, and one bathroom with a decent shower. There was a small kitchen with an electric stove, a fridge, and a microwave that only worked sometimes, but no dishwasher. There was also a combo living room and dining room. It had an old-style twenty-inch TV and furniture as mismatched as the chairs in the Shrimp Shack. No air conditioner. Even though their place faced north, when it got blazing hot, they suffered.

  There was one thing in the place Robin loved. The bookcase in his room. They had a big one, which they’d lugged home together from a sale on Thirteenth Street a few years ago. Like Robin, Miz Paige loved books. She sometimes even took payment at the Shrimp Shack in books if folks had no money. Not that she has time to read.

  Robin headed down the hall toward the bathroom, the envelope still tucked safely in his waistband. There were a few framed photos on the walls: pictures of President Obama, President Kennedy, and Dr. Martin Luther King. Also some family shots. Robin had cousins, aunts, and uncles on the West Coast and in South Carolina. He didn’t see them much, but when he did, it was stupid fun.

  There was a single framed photo of his parents, Randolph and Nicole Paige. It had been taken on their honeymoon in Mexico, three years before their car slid off the road in a snowstorm and into the big lake. They seemed so mismatched in their swimsuits on the beach—his dad tall and thin, his mom short and round. But they had their arms around each other like they never wanted to let go.

  Robin’s heart ached as he gazed at the picture. He loved his grandmother, but he never really got to know his parents. That felt wrong. Sometimes he’d stand in front of this photograph and talk to his parents in his head.

  He talked to them now.

  “What do you think of what I did tonight, Dad? What do you think, Mom? Do you think I have guts, or do you think I’m being stupid? How does a person know which is which?”

  No answer. Just his parents’ happy faces frozen forever behind a glass frame, with no clue how it would end.

  Robin felt a lump rise in his throat and forced himself away. He made a quick pit stop in his room for clean shorts and a white muscle T-shirt—not that he had any muscles—and then went into the bathroom. He locked the door and started the shower to cover any sounds he might make.

  His heart thudded when he took the envelope from his waistband. It was thick, yellow, and bigger than a regular envelope. It had a metal clasp. Whatever was in there? It was more than just paper.

  He undid the clasp, then dumped the envelope upside down in the sink.

  Whoa.

  Dozens of glassine bags of drugs dropped into the yellowing porcelain.

  And cash. Lots and lots of folded and wadded-up cash.

  Robin quickly gathered the drug containers, dumped them in the toilet, and flushed twice. Ten seconds later, they were gone. He had no idea if it was smack or crack, but it had to be worth thousands. Then he counted the money, making messy piles of twenties, fifties, and hundreds on top of the toilet seat. It was more money than he’d ever seen in his life.

  Holy moly. He counted again, and again, unable to believe the total he was keeping in his head.

  The last two counts matched up.

  “Twenty-five thousand three hundred bucks,” Robin muttered. “That’s a lotta chip.”

  He put it back into the envelope, double-checked the door lock, and stepped into the shower. He had a lot of thinking to do. There was no better time than right now to start doing it.

  Chapter Nine

  How much money you jus’ say?” Sly asked.

  “Twenty-five thou,” Robin whispered. He didn’t dare let anyone hear him. It was tricky enough to be talking in semi-public with Kaykay and Sly, but his best friends had to be told. “Actually, twenty-five thousand three hundred.”

  “You’re kiddin’, man.” Sly clomped him on the back. “That is a good story, dude. You totally had us! He have you, Kaykay?”

  Kaykay nodded. “Big time! Robin, you funny!”

  It was the next morning. Robin was at free breakfast in the ICHS cafeteria, along with about half the school. Kaykay got free breakfast too. Her dad was a machinist who’d been out of a job for two years, and her mom was a nurse’s aide. They had a big family, which meant she ate a lot of ninety-niners. That is, meals right from the ninety-nine-cent store. Sly w
asn’t eligible for free breakfast, but he came and hung out anyway.

  Before Robin left for school that morning, he’d wanted to hide the money, but he couldn’t find a really safe place. His grandmother got on these crazy cleaning jags; one could strike without warning. Finally, he tucked the money-stuffed envelope back in his waistband, under his school uni shirt. He hoped that he didn’t look too puffy. But he had an answer for that: too much spaghetti for dinner. He didn’t have gym that day, so he felt safe.

  Sort of.

  Once again, Robin was whipped. It had been impossible to sleep. All this money! There were so many things that he and his grandmother needed. New furniture. A decent TV. They both needed new shoes. Plus, there was a ton of stuff they could do to fix up the Shrimp Shack.

  The best part of the night had been when he realized that he could pay off the Ninth Street Rangers with money he’d stolen from them.

  That made Robin feel great. Powerful, even.

  Robin shook his head. “No story, dudes. I’m serious as a heart attack.”

  “Where the money be now?” Kaykay demanded. She wiped some juice from her mouth with a napkin and then polished up an apple. Even at free breakfast, she only ate and drank the natural stuff.

  Robin tapped his waistband. “Right here.”

  “What?” Sly exclaimed.

  “You be careful, Robin,” Kaykay advised. “You be super careful. Those Rangers find out it’s you, they gonna jack you up and jack up yo’ grams.”

  Sly couldn’t contain himself. He cackled. “Day-um, Robin. You rich!”

  “Sssh, Sly!” Kaykay warned.

  Robin thought it was best to end this convo. “I’m getting more milk, dudes,” he said, pushing back from the table.

  “You do that,” Sly told him. “Me ’n Kaykay gonna figure out the best way to invest that chip. I’m gonna turn twenty-five thou into a hundred big ones, like that!” He snapped his fingers as if to show it would be a breeze.

  Robin shook his head and went back to the food line. Before he knew it, Tyrone and Dodo had slipped into the line behind him. Robin bit his lower lip. What if those guys roughed him up and the envelope fell out? What if they knew guys in the Rangers and knew about the money being stolen? They’d be heroes to the Rangers, and he’d be the dead dude walkin’.

  “Wassup, Shrimp!” Dodo put a meaty hand on Robin’s shoulder.

  “Hey, Dodo.”

  “How be our homework?” Tyrone demanded.

  “I’m … I’m gonna do it tonight,” Robin said. That was the truth.

  “Don’t mess up, Shrimp,” was Tyrone’s response. “You don’t want the whole football team mad at chu. Jus’ be our beeyotch, and you be fine, Shrimp. ”

  He and Dodo moved off. Robin breathed a little easier, even though it hurt to be called a beeyotch. What had happened last night had made Robin determined. Yes, he’d do their homework tonight, but there was no way he’d do it forever.

  Robin Paige was not going to be anybody’s beeyotch.

  Not only that, he’d just figured out what to do with the money.

  “Be cool,” Robin warned his friends as they entered the Center after school.

  “You runnin’ this show, Robin,” Sly told him.

  “Actually, you’re doing the show,” Robin reminded him. “You keep everybody’s eyes on you.”

  “It won’t take Robin and me more than two minutes,” Kaykay promised. “Maybe less.”

  “Yo, Kaykay. I’ve got tricks that take longer than two minutes. Anytime you wanna be my assistant, you get five percent of whatever I make,” Sly told her.

  “Sly, you crazy! I ain’t never gonna be no one’s assistant,” Kaykay declared.

  “Dudes, shut up,” Robin ordered as they entered the rec room. “Go set up, Sly. Kaykay, go with him. Start the show in five minutes.”

  The rec hall was full of people, quiet as a funeral parlor. Tomorrow was closing day, and there was supposed to be a party to celebrate the Center’s long life. There was even a theme for the party: All Things Must End.

  It didn’t seem like many people were getting in the mood to party, though. Everyone was moving like ghosts, even as they put up decorations. Robin saw Mr. Smith taping crepe paper around a door. He joined him, and they worked silently.

  “I’m gonna miss you, Robin,” Mr. Smith finally said.

  “I’m gonna miss you too, Mr. Smith,” Robin replied.

  “You won’t forget me?”

  Robin looked Mr. Smith in the eye. “I’ll never forget you.”

  Suddenly, Kaykay’s voice rang out from the stage. “Come one, come all! For a very special magic show by our own Mister Magic, Sly Thomas! In honor of all the good times you’ve had at the Center. Come on, peeps. Put down your stuff and have some fun!”

  Everyone loved Sly’s magic, so the stage area got crowded. Sly kept a trunk of magic props at the back of the stage, so he had all his gear. Kaykay joined Robin as Sly started his first trick by bringing a really old lady named Mrs. Leland on stage. She was almost ninety. He flirted with her, and she flirted right back, which made everyone laugh. Then Sly swallowed what seemed like a hundred needles and had Mrs. Leland look in his mouth with a flashlight.

  “No needles in this big boy!” Mrs. Leland yelled to the crowd. Worries forgotten for a moment, everyone cracked up.

  “As they say in Paris,” Sly responded, “You wrong!”

  He opened his mouth, took hold of a thread that had magically appeared, and tugged it. Out came the thread. On the thread were strung the hundred needles. Everyone cheered and clapped. It was an amazing trick.

  As Sly started his next trick, which involved a huge black top hat, Robin leaned close to Kaykay.

  “This is a long trick. Let’s do it,” he whispered.

  With the crowd distracted by Sly, he and Kaykay slipped out of the rec room. Once they hit the main hallway, they ran to the back offices and stopped outside Sarge’s door.

  “Ready?” Robin asked.

  Kaykay nodded.

  Robin handed the cash-filled envelope to her. She dug out a black Sharpie pen and quickly drew a pretty Christmas tree on the back of the envelope. Then she wrote some words in plain block capital letters.

  MERRY EARLY XMAS TO THE CENTER !

  Work done, she gave the envelope back to Robin. “It’s your money. You do it.”

  Robin didn’t waste a second. He dropped to his knees and slipped the envelope through the big crack under Sarge’s door. The moment the envelope was out of sight, he and Kaykay ran back to the rec hall. They got back in time to see Sly take a glass of water from the top hat, pour the water into the hat, and then put the hat on his head.

  No water ran out. The crowd loved it.

  Kaykay leaned toward Robin. “When do you think Sarge is going to—”

  Just then Sarge came running into the rec room, bellowing. “We’re saved! We’re saved! Oh my word, oh my word, we’re saved!”

  As everyone watched in shock, he did a front flip, two cartwheels, and then another front flip, yelling all the while. “We’re saved! We’re saved!”

  People stared like he’d lost his mind.

  That’s when Sarge opened the envelope that he’d stuffed in the pocket of his red warm-up suit. “Money! Enough to save the Center! Money! Someone just put it under my door. Money!” He flung a fistful of bills toward the ceiling. They fluttered down like dancing butterflies. “Money!”

  Now, people understood. The place erupted in joyful shouting and cheers. Some of the old people were actually crying.

  Sly came down from the stage to join Robin and Kaykay. Robin bumped his fist but said nothing. They’d talked about this: they didn’t want to give anyone the idea that they were involved. In fact, they started dancing as happily as anyone.

  That’s when Mr. Smith creaked over to them. He was grinning from ear to ear.

  “The Center’s saved!” Robin punched the air with happiness.

  “It’s great!” Sly added.
He did a few cool pops.

  “Greater ’n great!” Kaykay yelled. “Woot! Woot!”

  “Oh yeah, it’s great all right.” Mr. Smith said, but the smile left his face. “Bein’ old ain’t great. Bein’ old means I can’t run, and it means I need glasses to read, but it don’t mean I can’t see. Right, Robin? Right, Kaykay?”

  Mr. Smith took Robin—who could tell something was terribly wrong—by the shoulders and spun him with surprising force, then got right in his face. “I may be old, an’ I may move slow, but that don’t mean I don’t got eyes that can’t see good as ever. Robin and Kaykay? I saw you two put an envelope under Sarge’s door! Now, ’fess up!”

  Chapter Ten

  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.