Kenny Wright

by James Patterson

  “Look who it is!” G-ma says.

  She’s sitting in the living room with a bunch of other people. Mrs. Clark is there, too, standing by a big pad on an easel, with a black marker in her hand. The pad says stuff like “Save Our Schools” and “Education First.”

  So I guess this whole big action thing of G-ma’s really is happening. Which isn’t great news for me. Because I know what’s coming next.

  “So, Kenny,” Mrs. Clark says, “your grandma tells us you might be willing to stand up and speak at our rally. Have you given it any more thought?”

  Talk about a complicated question! I look over at the door to my room, and it might as well be on the other side of the galaxy by now.

  So I open my mouth, and I give the one answer that’s going to get me there a little faster.

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll do it.”

  I mean, what else am I going to say?

  Everyone in the living room starts clapping for me then. The people in the kitchen lean over to see what’s going on, and G-ma says, “Ladies and gentlemen, meet our new student ambassador!” Now those people start clapping, too, and the whole apartment’s cheering for me like I’m some kind of perfect model student. Or even some kind of superhero.

  What could I possibly say to change things at our school? Why would anyone listen to what’s on my mind? Maybe they’ll care. Maybe they won’t. I’m leaning more toward won’t. It’s not like I’m Marcus Garvey or Medgar Evers. If G-ma could hear my thoughts, she’d say, “No, you’re not Garvey or Evers. You’re Wright, and that’s all you need to be.”

  But you know what? None of that matters. I’m still bugged out. And that’s when my head just about spins right off.

  Actually—no. Not that. More like it splits in two.

  LATER THAT NIGHT, I’m about to hit the sack when G-ma comes into my room.

  “Did you feel pressured to say yes to that speech?” she asks me. “I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”

  “It’s okay, G-ma,” I tell her.

  “Well, I’m proud of you,” she says.

  “You shouldn’t be,” I say.

  G-ma looks at me all squinty, the way she does sometimes. “Why not?” she says.

  “Well…” I shrug at her. “I haven’t given the speech yet. Maybe I’ll still chicken out.”

  “I doubt that,” G-ma says. “You’re a brave boy, Kenneth. You’re the bravest boy I’ve ever known.”

  I can’t even touch that one. No way.

  “Do you really think it will make any difference, though?” I ask her instead. “I’m just…me, you know? I don’t really see how—”

  “Kenneth.” She cuts me off, and I already know what she’s going to say. “Have I ever told you the story about the starfish?”

  “Yeah,” I say. She’s told me that one about a thousand times, but it never stops her. I don’t mind, either. I kind of like it. So she sits down on the bed and keeps talking.

  “There was a young man once,” G-ma says. “And he came onto a beach that was covered in starfish.”

  I DON’T KNOW if I’m ready for another one of Ray-Ray’s “lessons” or not, but a few days later, I get one anyway.

  We’re in the cafeteria at lunch, and Ray-Ray straight-up dares me to steal some chicken fingers off the steam table. I don’t even like chicken fingers. Since when do chickens have fingers? Something just ain’t right about that.

  “Are you crazy?” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says, grinning that Ray-Ray grin of his. “But this ain’t about me.”

  This is about me, and we both know it. I didn’t exactly ace that car ride with Nicky. When you end up sweating like a pig and laughing like a goat, you’re not exactly a shining example of swag.

  Still, you’re probably thinking, No way, right? Why would I take a stupid dare like that?

  Good question. I just wish I had a good answer. Maybe it’s because Preemie, Quaashie W., and Vanessa are watching. (Especially Vanessa.)

  Maybe it’s because I still have something to prove, and Ray-Ray’s never going to stop pestering me until I do.

  Or maybe it’s because I’m a big fat idiot.

  All of the above, I guess. Whatever the reason is, the next thing I know, I’m sneaking past the lunch line…

  …checking to make sure no one’s looking…

  …grabbing a tub of chicken fingers with a side of hot honey mustard…

  …and getting out of there as fast as I can go.

  Ray-Ray’s right there, and we book it out into the hall. I don’t stop running until we’re all the way around the corner and into the stairwell, where it’s quiet.

  Then we get rid of the evidence faster than you can say GULP. It’s like those chicken fingers just disappear.

  But not for long. My stomach’s already feeling kind of funky, and I’m starting to think there’s more than one reason why this was a bad idea.

  “Good job,” Ray-Ray says with his mouth full. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  And then, all at once, I don’t have it in me. Every bite of every chicken finger I just sucked down comes right back up. All over the stairs. All over the floor. And all over my shoes, too.

  Ray-Ray thinks it’s hilarious. “Way to go, man,” he says. “You’re a regular gangsta now.” He’s loving this, I can tell.

  I’m glad someone is. Because to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

  I KNOW I should stop. But I don’t.

  That week we have a field trip to the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. I get on the bus with Ray-Ray and Preemie, partly because they ask me to, and partly because I want to.

  Arthur looks at me funny when I say I’ll catch up with him later. He watches me move on back, and then I don’t know what he does, because I’m not paying attention to him anymore. I’m noticing how Dwayne and Kwame are looking at me.

  Before this, they always looked at me like I was a cockroach they couldn’t wait to stomp. But ever since they saw me rolling out with Nicky Powell, it’s more like I’m some kind of puzzle they can’t figure out.

  And do I like it? You know it! As far as they know, I’m one of Nicky’s boys. Yeah, right.

  “Did you check Dwayne and Kwame back there?” Ray-Ray asks me when I sit down.

  “Actually, yeah,” I say. I look over again, and this time Kwame looks away first. That never happens. Up to now, the only people who looked away from me first were pretty girls. Well, not all of them. I catch a few cute ones giving me “the eye.” Okay…maybe one or two. But I haven’t developed my mack, my conversation with girls, just yet, so I look away. I know—weak!

  Back to Kwame. Dude actually looked away.

  Crazy, right?

  “Now we’ve got to keep it going,” Ray-Ray says.

  “What’s that mean?” I say.

  “You’ve got the new rep, but it’s not worth much if you can’t back it up. People need to see you standing up for yourself once in a while,” Ray-Ray says. “Even if it’s not for real.”

  “Huh?” I say, but he and Preemie are just cheesing at each other like they’ve got some kind of secret plan. Which I guess they do. You never know what Ray-Ray’s up to.

  “It’ll be like one of those pop quizzes,” Preemie says to me. “So just be ready.”

  And I’m thinking, Since when is Preemie in on this?

  And then I’m thinking, What does she mean? Be ready for WHAT?

  But mostly, I’m thinking about how Kwame looked away first, and how much I like not being a cockroach.

  So I don’t ask any more questions. I just keep my mouth shut and go with the flow.

  Which turns out to be a huge mistake.

  THE FRONT OF the Air and Space Museum is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. They have all kinds of aircraft hanging over the lobby like huge models. Except these are the real deal. I’m looking up at an old fighter jet, and a space capsule, and a hang glider, and I’m wishin
g I could just take one of them out for a test flight. Like maybe now, because Ray-Ray and Preemie have me feeling just a little bit nervous.

  You know, like the way the ocean is just a little bit watery.

  Dr. Yetty’s already been working with us on a unit from the museum. It’s called “Black Wings,” all about African American pioneers in aviation. So when we pass by a picture of Bernard Harris, you know she points it right out.

  “There he is, boys and girls. The first African American to walk in space. And there’s one of my personal heroes, Bessie Coleman. She was the first licensed black pilot, all the way back in 1921. Who can tell me how many years ago that was?”

  That’s Dr. Yetty for real—’cause why just do history when you can do math at the same time? No wonder G-ma’s totally in love with her.

  Meanwhile, we’re all headed toward the planetarium, and everyone’s pushing and jostling, trying to get there first for the good seats. Ray-Ray’s right in front of me now, but I’m not sure what happened to Preemie. She was here a second ago.

  And then I hear her voice.

  “Ready?” she whispers behind me.

  Before I can say Yes, No, or Ready for what?, she puts her hands on my back and gives me a push.

  I stumble right into Ray-Ray. He stumbles, too, and then whips around, giving me this evil eye I’ve never seen on him before.

  “What’s wrong with you, Grandma’s Boy?” he says.

  I know it’s not for real. Lots of other kids are around, including Dwayne and Tiny, which I guess is the whole point. This is my chance to fake-show what I’m fake-made-of. But that doesn’t stop my heart from running like one of those jet engines.

  Then Ray-Ray steps up on me, even closer.

  “I said…what’s wrong with you, Grandma’s Boy?” he says again. He keeps his voice low, so none of the teachers notice—but everyone else does.

  And here’s the part I don’t expect. Even though it’s fake, I still hate that name. All of a sudden, I’m thinking about everyone who ever called me that. Everyone who tripped me in the hall, or stuck me in a locker, or pounded me like Bryce Harper does to every ball pitched his way.

  And that’s when I start to get mad. For real.

  “Check yourself, Ray-Ray,” I say.

  “Check myself? You better get back in your lane, before I put you there,” he says. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. He looks over at Jerome Cleary, standing there watching us. Tiny, too. “And what’re you gonna do about it, Grandma’s B—”

  Before I know what’s what, I reach out and give Ray-Ray a shove. It’s nothing I was planning on. It just kind of happens. I don’t think Ray-Ray was expecting it, either. He looks pretty surprised when I do it.

  Then he looks even more surprised when he falls over one of those fancy ropes they use to keep us in line.

  The security guard looks surprised, too. Especially when Ray-Ray falls right into her.

  And she drops her walkie-talkie.

  And it makes this huge SQUAWK sound when it hits the ground.

  And a bunch of other guards come running to see what’s going on.

  The good news is, I just passed Ray-Ray’s pop quiz. But that’s the only good news. Next thing I know, Dr. Yetty’s putting a death grip on my arm and dragging me away.

  “What kind of display was that?” she says. “I’m shocked, Kenny. Shocked! I think your grandmother will be, too.”

  My heart never even slows down. That fight may have been fake, but the trouble I’m about to get into is one hundred percent real.

  Plus, G-ma’s going to be two hundred percent disappointed. I can just see her face now. Letting her down kills me. I’m supposed to be some type of student ambassador dude. You think Frederick Douglass got into fake fights?

  No way.

  That little silver-haired lady is gonna let me have it.

  She’s like a living, breathing, pint-sized civil rights movement.

  “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

  That’s one of G-ma’s favorite things to say. But I’ve never heard it quite like this. She already got the scoop from Dr. Yetty. But now that I’m home, she wants to hear it from me.

  And she’s not just kind of mad. She’s not even really mad. This time, G-ma’s got it turned all the way up. That’s the kind of power that can be used for good and evil. You haven’t seen angry until you’ve seen my grandma heated.

  “Since when does my grandson get into fights?” G-ma says. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “Well—” I say.

  “And at the Smithsonian Museum, of all places? Honestly, Kenneth!”

  I’m trying to think of a way to explain this that won’t make G-ma madder—like that’s even possible.

  Not to mention, she’s still talking.

  “This is about your future,” she says. “That doesn’t start tomorrow, or next year. It starts today, Kenneth. Every day. If you wanted a shot at a perfect record, it’s gone now. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  And that’s the part that makes it even worse. G-ma thinks this is my first detention. She thinks this is the first time I’ve gotten in trouble, period.

  She even thinks the only reason I’m teaching chess to Ray-Ray is because I’m some kind of good person.

  Wrong. Wronger. Wrongest.

  I can’t keep holding it all in. I’ve got to tell her at least a little bit of the truth, or my brain’s going to explode right here and now.

  “G-ma, can I say something?” I ask her.

  She bunches up her mouth and squints at me, so I can see she’s taking her time to think about it.

  “You may,” she says then. “Help me understand this, Kenneth.”

  “The truth is, I thought if some of the guys saw me cutting up, they might not think I was such a…um…you know…”

  I freeze, because I was about to say Grandma’s Boy. That would be like pouring gasoline on a fire. And then jumping into the fire.

  “Such a what?” she asks me.

  “Um…a poot-butt.” G-ma gives me a look. “I mean, an easy mark, G-ma,” I say. “It wasn’t even a real fight. We were just messing around, and I guess it got out of hand.”

  It feels good to tell her all that instead of another lie. But it doesn’t get me very far. She’s already pacing around the kitchen again.

  “Well, until you can learn not to let things get out of hand, you’re grounded, mister,” she says.

  I don’t even try to argue. There’s no such thing as winning an argument with G-ma. Talking about it just makes you lose slower.

  And then, just when I think it’s over, she says, “Except for the chess.”

  “Excuse me?” I say.

  “That’s the one thing you may continue to do,” G-ma says. “I’d hate to disappoint that nice young man. What was his name, Raymond?”

  “Ray-Ray,” I say.

  “Yes, well, there’s no reason he needs to suffer because you can’t behave,” G-ma says.

  “But—”

  “You’re going to see those lessons through, and that’s that!” G-ma says. Then she walks right out of the room.

  Just before my brain goes…BOOM!

  THE NEXT DAY, I ask Arthur if he wants to play chess at lunch, and he’s like, “Whatever.”

  Arthur always wants to play. He’s crazier about chess than I am. So I know something’s up right away. And I’m pretty sure it’s about Ray-Ray.

  “What’s up with you, man? Is it about what went down at the museum?” I say. “Or is it because we haven’t had a good match in a minute?”

  He just shrugs, but at least he’s setting up the board. Dele and Vashon are there, too, and they’re both looking at me like I just stepped out of a flying saucer with three eyeballs plastered on my forehead, and a butt where my nose should be, plus…I stink. Real alien funk, man.

  “What?” I say. “Ray-Ray? It’s not like we’ve been hanging out a lot. I just told Dr. Yetty I’d teach—”

  “Ray-
Ray, yeah. You already said,” Vashon tells me. “Don’t worry about it, Kenny. It’s a free world.”

  So I go with the same vibe they’re throwing. “Okay, whatever,” I say, and start setting up my pieces on the home row.

  “Why do you even want to hang with him, anyway?” Dele asks me after a couple of moves.

  I don’t know what to say to that. These guys know about why I’m teaching Ray-Ray, but I haven’t told them anything about what he’s teaching me. I mean, what am I going to say—that I’m getting anti-wimp lessons? He’s showing me how not to be a Grandma’s Boy?

  Yeah, that’s not too embarrassing.

  It’s like some other kind of chess, where the pieces are secrets and I’m playing as hard as I can to protect the most important ones. So far, though, all it’s gotten me is a bunch of ticked-off people. (And one exploded brain.)

  “Anyway,” I tell everyone, “Ray-Ray’s not so bad, once you get to know him. He’s not nearly as annoying as I thought.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Vashon says, and points to the other side of the cafeteria.

  When I turn around, Ray-Ray’s sliding this girl’s whole lunch tray off her table while she’s tying her shoe. He spots me watching him, gives me a nod, and disappears into the Sugar Shack crowd.

  “Seems pretty annoying to me,” Arthur says.

  “Well, we’re going to be done with the chess soon,” I say. “Promise.”

  Dele and Vashon aren’t even listening anymore, and Arthur just castles his king without saying anything.

  I’m starting to feel about as popular as day-old meat loaf around here. So I don’t stick around.

  “I’ll catch y’all later,” I say.

  “Whatever,” Arthur says.

  The one other thing I do before I leave the cafeteria is stop at that girl’s table.

  “Here,” I say. “You can have my sandwich.”

  I think her name’s Rosa. She looks up at me like she’s going to cry, and to tell you the truth, that’s the last thing I want to deal with right now. So I drop the sandwich on the table and keep going.