by Anne Schraff
Cindy thought about her mother’s plan. There was no way she was going to live with her mother and Raffie. Keeping her thoughts to herself, Cindy scooped some ice cream into a bowl. She was happy to talk to her mother, even if she was not being totally honest. It felt good to see her without yelling or slamming doors. Cindy wanted to tell her what had been happening at school with Ms. Abbott and with Bobby.
“Hey, Mom, do you wanna stay here tonight and rent a movie or something?” she asked hopefully.
“I can’t just sit and watch a movie,” her mother replied. “I’m going over to the mall to get some new clothes. My outfits just don’t fit the way they used to. When we were in Vegas, Raffie kept teasing me about it. He kept saying ‘Come on, Pudge. ’ I wore that bare midriff outfit I bought—the one I thought I looked so good in. I just kept oozing out of it, and Raffie needled me the whole time. ” As she spoke, she shook her head as if to dislodge the memory.
“Raffie’s mean, Mom. He’s got a mean streak,” Cindy insisted.
“Oh, he does not! He just likes to tease,” Mom snapped.
“He has a way of figuring out what really bothers somebody, and then he shoves it in your face,” Cindy said. “That’s mean. ”
“You’re not fair, Cindy. You never give Raffie a chance. He’s a sweetheart. He just likes to kid around, that’s all,” she said. “Well, I gotta go. Thanks for making dinner. ”
“Mom, maybe I could tag along,” Cindy suggested. “We never go out together, and maybe it’d be fun if—”
“Not tonight, Cindy,” her mother said. “Just rent your movie and call a friend over. See, Raffie said he’d be back tonight, and we decided to meet at that restaurant across from the mall. Since he’s just getting back from the convention in L. A. , I think it’s best if the two of us have some quiet time together. I better get ready. ” She got up and hurried down the hall to change.
Cindy sat in the old recliner and watched her mother rush down the hallway. The apartment was silent except for the occasional thud of her mother opening and closing drawers in her bedroom. Cindy knew what the sounds meant; her mother was trying to find something pretty to wear for Raffie. Everything she does anymore is for Raffie, Cindy thought bitterly. Leaning back into the chair, Cindy wondered if her mother would be happier without her.
Cindy awoke with Theo rubbing his furry face against her cheek. The apartment was dark, and Cindy realized she had fallen asleep in the recliner. The wall clock said it was nearly 8:00, and Cindy knew from the silence that her mother was gone. In the dark quiet of the gloomy living room, Cindy could hear noises coming from neighboring apartments. The sounds of other people talking made her feel more alone than ever.
She wondered if Mrs. Davis would mind her coming over. She thought it might seem rude to invite herself, but she did not want to spend the entire evening alone.
Cindy rang the Davises’ doorbell.
“Well, hello there, honeychild,” Mrs. Davis said.
“Uh, I was just sitting down to watch TV, and I can’t find the TV Guide,” Cindy lied. “I was wondering if you had one that I could borrow?”
“Come on in and watch TV with us,” replied Mrs. Davis warmly, swinging the apartment door wide open. “Harold has some scary show on. Maybe you can get him to watch something a little less frightening. ” Mrs. Davis chuckled.
Cindy thanked her and went into the living room. She sat down on the worn sofa, next to Harold.
“Hey, Cindy,” he said with a smile.
Cindy smiled back at him. The ending credits of whatever show Harold had been watching were scrolling on the small TV screen in the Davis living room. “It’s over, Grandma,” he yelled so she could hear him in the kitchen. “She doesn’t like shows with monsters in them,” Harold explained. “But I tell her there’s nothin’ in a fake TV show that’s scarier than things in the real world. ” He grabbed a nearby paper plate filled with cookies and held it towards Cindy. “Try one. Grandma made them. They’re real good. ”
Cindy took a chocolate chip cookie from the plate and ate it. Harold was right. The cookie was warm and sweet, and somehow it tasted as if it had been made with love. There was no such love in TV dinners, Cindy thought.
Mrs. Davis came into the living room then. “There’s a nice show on tonight about these angels that go around performing miracles, Harold,” she said. “You young people should really watch programs like that, instead of all that cussin’ and killin’ that they show on TV. ”
Harold looked at Cindy and grinned. The more she was around him, the less shy he seemed.
Mrs. Davis sighed and sat down in a big chair. She took a pile of yarn from the knitting bag next to her and dropped it on her lap. Cindy figured that as a young child, Harold had probably spent many happy hours in that lap. It seemed made for snuggling children.
Cindy reached for another cookie and noticed Harold staring at the bruise on her wrist. A strange look crossed his face, but he did not say anything.
Mrs. Davis followed his gaze for a second and then interrupted the awkward silence. “So, which classes do the two of you have together?”
“We both have English with Mr. Mitchell. And we have history together too,” Harold said. “Mr. Mitchell’s the nice teacher I told you about who wears the really weird clothes. ”
“Did you see him on Friday? He wore a red shirt and a purple tie. He looked a little like a clown,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “But he’s real cool. If you need to talk about something, he’ll always take time to listen. ”
“Just don’t ask him for advice on how to dress,” Harold said with a smile.
“He sounds like the kind of teacher kids need. I wish there were more like him,” Mrs. Davis said. “Back in my day, all the teachers took time out to sit down with students and talk, just like parents would. Nowadays, everything has changed so. It’s a shame. Seems like too many teachers today just sit back and let the kids run wild. ”
“Cindy, didn’t you say you’re drawing for the Bluford Bugler?” Harold asked, suddenly changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Cindy replied. “Why?”
“I was wondering if I could see your drawings sometime,” Harold said.
“You can see them anytime,” Cindy said excitedly, happy that he was interested in her work. “We can go right now if you want. ”
“Grandma, I’m gonna go over and see Cindy’s work,” Harold said. “Okay?”
“Go on, go on,” Mrs. Davis laughed, waving her hand in the air. “Give me a little peace!” She chuckled to herself, the knitting needles working back and forth in her strong dark hands.
Cindy turned to Harold as soon as they stepped into the hallway. “I love your grandma,” she said.
“Yeah, she’s great,” he said. “Sometimes I think she’s a little nosy, but that’s because she’s always watching out for people, making sure everybody’s okay. Every day, she looks out the window to keep an eye on what’s going on in the neighborhood. She thinks it’s her job or something. ”
“I wish I had someone watching over me like that,” Cindy said.
“Don’t worry,” Harold replied. “She watches you too. ”
Cindy smiled. She liked the idea that someone cared about her, even if her mother didn’t.
As soon as they entered the apartment, Cindy ran into her room and grabbed her scrapbook. “Some of these are old,” she said, handing the book to Harold. “I’ve been drawing since I was a kid. ”
“Wow, you’re really good,” Harold exclaimed, leafing through the book. “I had no idea you could draw like this. ”
“Thanks, Harold. ” Cindy was excited to have someone to show her work to. When he finished looking at the sketches, Harold stood up and started to walk around the living room.
“I’m really glad you let me see your drawings,” Harold said, pacing back and forth. He seemed nervous. At one point, he started to say something, but then stopped himself.
“What’s wrong, Harold?” she asked.
“Uh . . . I noticed your wrist when we were at my place,” he stammered. “It’s pretty bruised. ”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Cindy blurted out. “See, I was reaching for something in my closet, and I hit my wrist . . . ”
Harold stared at Cindy. She could see in his eyes that he did not believe her. Cindy stopped speaking and turned away from him. She wanted to shift Harold’s attention from her wrist to something else, anything else.
“You’re goin’ out with Bobby Wallace now, aren’t you?” Harold asked.
“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly, afraid of what Harold would say next.
“When Jamee went out with Bobby, she had bruises like that,” Harold said, pointing to her wrist.
“Oh, I get it. So now you’re going to be like everybody else and tell me to stay away from him, right?” Cindy replied.
Harold paused briefly as if he was searching for the right words. “Cindy, that kid is no good. He don’t bring girls anything but trouble. When I was in middle school with Jamee, I’d see her going with him,” he continued. “She was only in eighth grade, and he was a junior at Bluford. ”
“Harold, I know what you’re trying to say, but Bobby didn’t mean to hurt me. He’s just strong, that’s all,” she explained.
“If I were you,” Harold replied, “I’d—”
“But you aren’t me, Harold!” Cindy yelled. “This really isn’t any of your business. Everyone keeps telling me what I should do, but no one ever asks how I feel or what I want, not you, not Jamee, not Mom. You don’t know me, Harold. Right now, Bobby is the best thing I got, better than school, better than this nasty apartment, better than anything. ”
Cindy could see that her words stunned Harold. For a second, he did not say anything. Then he looked at her. “I’m sorry, Cindy. I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, that’s all. ”
“I appreciate that, Harold, but Bobby’s been really nice to me. He’s even letting me wear his football jacket. Honest, he’s nice,” Cindy said, unsure whether she believed what she was saying.
Harold took a long breath. “Well, if you ever want to talk to someone,” he said, “I’m only down the hall. ”
“Thanks,” Cindy said, hoping he was not going to pressure her any further. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Harold. You’re really nice. ”
“It’s okay, I asked for it,” he said, looking around the room as if he wanted to change the subject. His gaze stopped at the clown sculpture on the coffee table. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Isn’t that the ugliest thing you ever saw? Raffie got it for Mom. I bet he got it at a junkyard for fifty cents or something, but Mom acts like it’s some wonderful expensive masterpiece ’cause it’s from him,” Cindy said.
Harold picked up the clown sculpture for a closer look. “Who did you say bought this?”
“Raffie Whitaker, my mom’s boyfriend. He’s always buying her ugly stuff. ”
Harold looked at Cindy as if she had just insulted him. Without saying a word, he stepped back and placed the clown back on top of the coffee table, shaking his head.
“Harold, what’s wrong?”
“Raffie Whitaker. Is he really your mom’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah, do you know him?” Cindy asked.
“I know of him,” Harold said. “He’s a drug dealer. ”
Chapter 8
Harold’s words cracked through the room like a thunderclap. Cindy felt as though the living-room floor shifted beneath her feet, as if the whole world had somehow lost its balance.
“What?” Cindy gasped.
“I thought you knew. How else do you think he pays for everything?” Harold asked with widened eyes. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s your mother see in a guy like that?” Harold inquired. “She seems like a pretty sharp lady. ”
Cindy didn’t want to talk anymore. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the images she was seeing in her mind. Raffie and Mom together in a drug bust. Mom using drugs again. It was all too painful to think about. “Look, Harold, I’ve got homework to do, and I have to do a sketch for—”
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Cindy,” Harold said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Do you wanna work at my grandma’s place?”
“No,” Cindy replied. “I just need to be by myself for a while. Tell your grandma that I’m sorry, but I just wanna stay here. ”
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later,” Harold said, hurrying to leave.
Back in her apartment, Cindy thought about what Harold had said. Even though she had no real proof, Cindy knew his words were true. Since the day she met Raffie, she had not trusted him, sensing all along that he was secretive and dishonest. What disturbed her most was not that Raffie was selling drugs, but that Mom was still planning to marry him. Cindy was not sure whether her mother knew the truth about Raffie, but she knew she had to confront her as soon as possible. She decided to wait on the couch until her mother came home.
It was close to midnight when Cindy heard her mother’s keys jingling against the apartment door.
“Cindy,” Mom grumbled as she walked in, “tomorrow’s a school day. Why are you still up?”
“Mom, I gotta talk to you,” Cindy said. “It’s really important. ”
“Now what?” her mother groaned. “I’ve already had a bad day—rude customers, Raffie not showing up at the restaurant. Now I gotta hear one of your problems!”
Cindy swallowed hard. “Mom, Raffie is a drug dealer. ”
Cindy’s mother dropped her coat and glared at her daughter. “Girl, shut your mouth! You want me to slap you? How dare you say such a thing! I can’t believe you’re so jealous of him that you’d make up lies like this. ”
“Mom!” Cindy cried desperately.
“I’m sick of hearing you talk bad about Raffie!” Mom yelled. “Now you’re makin’ up lies about him. This has got to stop. It just has to stop!”
“A guy from school told me everybody knows Raffie’s a dealer,” Cindy explained.
“Well, everybody is wrong! People are always spreading rumors about Raffie because they are jealous of how successful he is. Raffie’s a good man, Cindy. Don’t you spread lies about him, and don’t you ever repeat to me the garbage you hear! Understand?”
“Mom!” Cindy pleaded, tears in her eyes. “It’s the truth. ”
“I don’t want to hear another word about it! Understand? I’m tired, and I’m going to bed!” She hurried down the hall and slammed her bedroom door.
Tears were streaming down Cindy’s cheeks by the time she reached her bedroom. She crawled into bed and buried her head in her pillow. It was just a matter of time, Cindy thought, before Raffie would get someone arrested or killed. Maybe it would be Mom.
Frightened, Cindy trembled in her dark bedroom for hours, the silence interrupted occasionally by the distant howl of a far-away police siren.
The next morning, Cindy and Mom exchanged no words at breakfast. Cindy could tell her mother was still bitter about the previous night’s discussion. The tension in the small kitchen was so thick that Cindy was glad to sling on her backpack and get out of the apartment, even if she was going to Bluford.
On the way to school, Cindy wondered what she should do. Her mother would not listen to her, and she could think of no one who could help her. Then, as she approached Bluford, Cindy saw Bobby arriving at school in his Nissan. Maybe he would be able to help, she thought. Yet as she walked up to his car, she thought of him leaving the Chinese restaurant to talk to the mysterious man in the Mercedes. Was there a connection? she wondered.
“Hey, Bobby,” she said quickly. “Listen, I have something important to tell you. I found out that Raffie Whitaker, the guy my mom is dating, is a drug dealer! I’m so scared. ”
Bobby sat there a moment, expressionless, and then slowly got out of the car. His silent reaction made her even more desperate. She knew he was hiding something from her.
“That was Raffie you were tal
king to in the parking lot the other day, wasn’t it?” Cindy, asked, tears in her eyes. “Bobby, why’d you lie to me? You’re not into drugs, are you?”
“Cinderella, relax,” he said gently, putting his hand softly on her back. “I told you, I was strung out last year, but that’s ancient history. I’m clean now, I swear it. There’s no way I’m going down that road again. ”
“I’m glad,” Cindy said, relieved. “But what did Raffie want with you?”
“He heard about how I was last year and wondered if I’d find him some punks to buy this new stuff he’s selling. It’s a drug they use to put cats to sleep. Whitaker says it’s a real trip. I told him to get lost. That’s all it was. ” Bobby smiled at Cindy and wrapped his arms around her gently. “You ain’t got a worry in the world about your man, Cinderella,” he insisted.
Cindy was grateful to hear Bobby’s words. She needed someone to talk to, someone to trust, and Bobby seemed to understand that. Enveloped in his arms, she felt safe. This was the side of Bobby that Harold did not know about, she thought. Cindy put her arms on Bobby’s back and pulled him closer. For a second, buried in Bobby’s arms, she did not worry about anything. Then thoughts of her mother flooded her mind. “Bobby, I’m so scared Raffie will get my mom in trouble. ”
“Listen, I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t talk to nobody else about this, okay? Stay cool,” Bobby said. “I’ll take care of business. ”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’ll figure something out. Trust me,” he assured her. “Now guess what,” he said, winking. “I got something for you. ”
“Yeah?” Cindy asked, her heart racing.
“Meet me after school at my car. ”
“I will, Bobby,” Cindy promised, grateful that he was going to help her though still unsure about his connection to Raffie.
At lunchtime, Cindy noticed some seniors gathered in the schoolyard. Bobby was among them. Next to him were André Watkins and Pedro Ortiz. They had reputations as troublemakers and druggies. Cindy watched uneasily from the other side of the schoolyard as Bobby talked. She wondered what he was saying. Perhaps he was warning the other kids about Raffie and his new drug. If Raffie’s Bluford customers drifted away, Cindy thought, then maybe he would go somewhere else and leave her mother alone.
