Bell Bottom High: Book 2: Sophomore Sorrows

by B. J. Williams

  Joyce gave me a suspicious look, and asked, “What happened?”

  I scanned the bus to see if anyone was listening to our conversation. Scooting down in my seat, I leaned in towards Joyce, and lowered my voice. “I heard that Francis Hardaway has chlamydia, and she got it from Rodney Payne.”

  “No way, you’re lying. There’s no way that Francis would be involved with the likes of Rodney,” Joyce responded in disbelief. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I heard it from a very reliable source during lunch while I was in the restroom. And from what I could understand, she’s very upset with him.”

  “Well, I know how she feels, but what can she do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I heard.”

  “I know Francis has a real bad temper,” Joyce stated. “She can be meaner than a junk yard dog when she wants to. I’ve had a couple of classes with her, and she didn’t think twice about talking back to the teacher and cussing people out.”

  “No kidding?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow. “I know she’s always been big for her age, but I didn’t know she was mean, too.”

  “I’m real serious. That Francis Hardaway is no joke. She was always the biggest girl in the class so she kind of bullied all of us girls. She even teased some of the boys, because she was the same size as most of them in seventh grade. I can’t imagine her being with Rodney even if she is somewhat attractive. Her personality leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “Hey, it’s not our problem,” I replied, looking up at the bus driver. “I’m almost home, and I’ve got a ton of homework to complete. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe we can get together after school and do something.”

  “Sure, that sounds like a plan.”

  *

  I was disappointed when I made it home. I searched the house for Tyrone, hoping we could spend some time together before I started doing my homework. I had some more questions for him regarding our conversation yesterday. I’d checked everywhere except in Grandma’s room.

  I knocked twice on Grandma’s door and waited for her to answer. Normally, Grandma kept her bedroom door open and the television tuned to Dark Shadows this time of day. When Grandma didn’t reply, I placed an ear to the door and knocked twice again. Grandma still didn’t reply, and I didn’t hear a sound coming from the other side.

  Cracking the door, I peeped in to find an empty space. Where is Grandma?

  Then panic crept into my thoughts. Oh, God, let me call Mama and see what’s going on. Something must have happened to Grandma.

  I rushed down the hallway and picked up the telephone receiver. Silently, I prayed that Grandma was all right. “Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Jones? This is her daughter, Reecy, calling,” I said as calmly as possible.

  “I’m sorry, Reecy, but your mom’s not here. She clocked out about an hour ago,” the lady stated.

  “Okay, do you have any idea where she went?” I asked, managing to keep my voice in a normal tone.

  “I’m not sure, sweetheart. I thought I heard someone say she left for the hospital. Just stay where you are, and I’m sure she’ll be home in a minute.”

  Oh, no, it’s Grandma. I’ve got to get to the hospital.

  I hung up the telephone receiver and bolted for the front door. I swung it open and ran right into Joshua. “Hold on, hold on, Reecy’s cup. Where’s the fire?” he asked, grabbing me by the arms.

  “Let me go! I’ve got to get to the hospital, something’s happened to Grandma.”

  “Wait a minute. What are you talking about?”

  “Grandma’s not here. I called Mama’s job, and they said that she left over an hour ago heading to the hospital.”

  “Calm down, Reecy. Let me talk to you for a second.”

  “No, I’ve got to go see about Grandma,” I replied, struggling to loosen my arms from Joshua’s grip.

  “Will you stop fighting with me and sit down? Come on over here and let me talk to you,” Joshua pleaded, taking me by the hand. He led me into the living room and stopped at the sofa. Joshua took a seat and then pulled me down beside him. “Look, Reecy, Grandma is fine.”

  “How do you know that? Why is she at the hospital? What happened, Joshua?” I demanded, staring into his eyes. I searched for some sign of concern on my brother’s face.

  Placing an arm around my shoulder, Joshua replied, “There’s been an accident.”

  “Oh, God!” I burst out.

  “Just listen, okay?” Joshua said, struggling to hold on to me. “Grandma, Mom, and Dad are at the hospital with Tyrone. He had a car wreck earlier today. I don’t have all the details, but I think he’s in surgery right now.”

  I just stared at Joshua. I saw his mouth moving. I heard the words he’d spoken. But somehow, I couldn’t rationalize him telling the truth. There was no way he was referring to my brother, Tyrone. It wasn’t possible that he’d be hurt. Shaking my head, I asked, “How do you know this?”

  “I know because Mom called the school and asked Coach Ellis to give me the news. He pulled me aside right before practice and told me what happened. Then, he asked one of my teammates to give me a ride home to be with you. “

  “So, we need to get to the hospital, Joshua. That’s our brother that’s been hurt. We need to be there for him,” I said, trying to stand.

  “No, Reecy, Mom said for us to stay home. She’s going to call us when they have some news,” Joshua responded, holding me down. “There’s nothing we can do at the hospital.”

  “What do you mean there’s nothing we can do? We can be there with the rest of our family praying for Tyrone. He’s needs us right now.”

  “No, Reecy. We don’t have to go to the hospital to pray for him. We can do that right here. I just need you to calm down. He’s going to be all right.”

  “How do you know that, Joshua? Huh, how do you know that? He could be dying right now for all we know,” I shouted, flapping both hands against my legs.

  “Mom would call us if anything bad had happened. They’re probably just waiting for him to get out of surgery. Then, she’s going to call and let us know that he pulled through fine.”

  I couldn’t hold back the emotions I’d been struggling with any longer. Covering my face with both hands, I released a flood of tears, crying out in pain. My body was shaking as the tears came faster and faster like the gushing Niagara Falls.

  Joshua wrapped both arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest. “He’s going to be all right. Don’t worry, Reecy. I know he’s going to be fine.”

  Joshua released me long enough to run to the bathroom, pick up a box of tissues, and return. Handing the box to me, he said, “Here, sis, go ahead and let it out.”

  Pulling out a handful of tissues, I replied, “Thanks, Josh.”

  About thirty minutes later, I was all cried out. Collapsing with my back against the sofa, I released a deep sigh. Joshua took me by the hand, and asked, “Hey, do you feel better now?”

  “Yes, but I just wish someone would call and let us know what’s going on. Can’t we call the hospital and check on Tyrone?”

  “They’re probably not going to tell us anything over the telephone. Mom and Dad could be anywhere in the building. So, let’s just wait. They’ll probably call or be home soon.”

  I just shook my head. I got up, moved to the chair by the window, and stared outside. I didn’t want to imagine my life without Tyrone.

  Chapter Seven

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Joshua said.

  “What?” I responded, blinking at him.

  “I said I’d give you a penny for your thoughts,” he repeated, searching in his pants pocket.

  “Oh, I was just thinking about Tyrone. We had a great time yesterday. He even let me drive his car.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Joshua laughed. “Tyrone wouldn’t let nobody behind the wheel of that white Mustang. And you can’t drive a lick, so I know he wouldn’t even let you touch the steering wheel.”

  “I’m not playi
ng. He took me to get ice cream yesterday after school. He stopped me by Joyce’s house on the way back, and when I came out, he let me drive home. It was my first driving lesson.”

  “Imagine that; it beats anything I’ve ever heard of,” Joshua stated, narrowing his eyes. He sounded really surprised. I know he was thinking that didn’t sound like the Tyrone he knew. “At least you didn’t wreck the car.”

  “No, I didn’t. He said I did pretty well, as a matter of fact,” I said, glancing out the window again. “But I wonder what happened to make Tyrone wreck his car. I sure hope he was wearing his seatbelt.”

  “Me, too, but I have no idea about what happened. Hopefully, we’ll know real soon,” Joshua responded, looking at the clock on the wall showing five-fifteen.

  “Listen, while we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me what happened at school the other day between you and Rodney? I thought I was going to have to drop kick that joker for the way he was glaring at you like a wild hog.” Joshua jumped from the sofa and did a Kung Fu stance.

  “Yeah, right,” I replied, laughing.

  “I’m serious. You know I don’t play that. Don’t nobody mess with my sister. Now tell me the truth about what went down with that cat.”

  I thought for a second, and said, “He gave Joyce VD, and she reported it to the school nurse. She was trying to tell him about it, but he got all mad and started saying crazy stuff. He even spit in her face. That’s when I stepped in and shoved him. He’d just turned around and threatened me when you walked up.”

  “That guy is amazing,” Joshua stated, shaking his head. “I don’t understand how he continues to get honey after honey after honey in trouble. You would think all the chicks would be hip to his weak game by now. But, Reecy, I want you to stay away from him. Do you hear me?” he asked, pointing at my nose.

  “Yeah, I’m not studying Rodney. I don’t know what nobody sees in him anyway. I was shocked that Joyce would even give him the time of day.”

  “Well, that goes to show what having good looks can do for you. Rodney smiles at a girl and she goes crazy. But if he ever threatens you again, you need to let me know.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I responded, waving him off.

  “I’m serious, Reecy’s cup, you better tell me if he ever gets in your face again. I’m serious, you better tell me.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you if the jerk ever bothers me again.”

  “You better, because he’s bad news on every hand. I’ll put my foot in that joker’s…”

  At that moment, our mother slung the front door open, and yelled, “Hello, there! I’m glad you two made it home safe and sound.”

  “Mama! Mama!” I jumped from my seat, screaming. I’d gotten so distracted from my conversation with Josh until I didn’t even hear them pull up in the driveway. Grandma crept in behind Mama and flopped down in the chair I had been sitting in by the window. Daddy was right behind them, heading straight to the kitchen with his hands jammed into his overall pockets.

  “Mama, how is Tyrone doing?” I asked. My eyes were stretched in anticipation of her response.

  “Give me a hug, and I’ll tell you,” Mama replied, reaching out to me.

  I fell into her warm arms, hugging her tightly.

  “He’s doing fine, baby. He broke his right leg, but he’s out of surgery now and resting well. Praise the Lord. It could have been worse.” She patted my back.

  “What happened?” I asked, raising my head.

  Daddy stomped back into the living room showcasing a scowl, and said, “They claim he was racing with that Smith boy out on the main highway. But I don’t believe that! Tyrone would never be foolish enough to be racing around town with nobody!”

  “I know that’s right, Dad,” Joshua chimed in. “Tyrone would never be caught racing his precious car. Who told you that, anyway?”

  “The police told us that. They were already at the hospital waiting on us when we got there. They said Tyrone and what’s his name was racing and Tyrone went to pass the other boy, but a car was coming. Tyrone swerved off the road and hit a tree. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, so his legs got jammed somehow. But it sounds like a bunch of craziness to me. I need to talk to that Smith boy myself,” Daddy huffed. “I’ll make him tell me the truth.”

  “Well, I’m tired,” Grandma moaned. “Reecy, can you come help your old grandma to her room?” she asked, inching to the edge of her seat. Grandma had one hand gripping the cane that used to belong to my grandpa.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I responded, hurrying to Grandma’s side. Her elderly, wrinkled face seemed depressed.

  Clutching Grandma’s arthritic hand, I helped her down the hallway. Grandma struggled to her room and collapsed on the side of the bed. “Thank you, baby, I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. You can wake me up when dinner is ready.”

  “Okay, Grandma, go ahead and rest,” I stated, slipping off Grandma’s beige, orthopedic shoes. I backed out the door and gently closed it behind me.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I approached Mama bent over the sink washing green beans. She had on a white apron covering her printed dress. “Mama, do you believe Tyrone was racing?”

  “Baby, I don’t know what to believe. It doesn’t sound like Tyrone. But a parent should never say what their child won’t do.”

  “Well, Daddy and Josh seem to think that it’s all a lie. And so do I.”

  Mama stopped the running water and turned to face me. “I know you, Josh, and your father love Tyrone very much, and I do, too. But as his mother, I have a gut feeling that something is not right about this situation. So, I’m not saying nothing one way or the other until Tyrone is able to talk and tell me exactly what happened.”

  “I just don’t believe that he was racing,” I said, glancing downward. “And the only reason he got hurt is because he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I tried to tell him about that yesterday, but he just waved me off.” I started to cry, wishing I had pleaded with him to wear that seatbelt.

  “Don’t worry, baby. You know how hardheaded these boys can be. I just know in my heart he’s gonna be fine.”

  I nodded my head. I trusted Mama’s intuition. To my knowledge, she had never been wrong when it came to predicting a situation regarding the welfare of her children.

  “Have you started on your homework, young lady?” Mama asked, drying her hands on the white apron.

  “No, ma’am, Josh and I were talking while we were waiting on you all to get home. I forgot all about doing my homework.”

  “Well, get to your room right now, and get on it,” Mama said, shifting to a stern, motherly voice. “I’ll let you know when dinner is done.”

  I walked to the kitchen doorway, stopped, and looked back at Mama. “What are we eating tonight?”

  “We’re having fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Now go,” she demanded, waving me away.

  *

  “Ah, man,” I quipped. “My typewriter is jammed.” I raised my hand for Mrs. Brooks, the typing teacher, to come offer assistance.

  “Yes, Reecy, how may I help you?” Ms. Brooks asked, leaning over my desk. The tall, slender instructor with a teeny-weeny afro smiled at the best student in the class, me.

  “My typewriter seems to be jammed, Ms. Brooks. I went to pull the manual return handle, and it won’t budge.”

  Kneeling beside my desk, Ms. Brooks tried to move the handle several times herself. “Oh, goodness, it is jammed. I hate these manual things. I’ll be so glad when the electric typewriters arrive next semester.”

  “Me, too,” I responded. I enjoyed typing class, but the manual machines were the pits.

  “Well, it’s almost time for class to end. You’ll have to finish this up tomorrow, Reecy. What are you typing, anyway?” Ms. Brooks asked, standing up.

  “This is a paper for my English class. We have to write a three-page report on a famous contemporary Afro-American.”

  “That sounds interesting. Who did you choose to write about?�
�

  “Maya Angelou, the poet and author. I just finished reading one of her books.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m familiar with her. She’s from Stamps, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she is. I love her work. I’m proud to know she’s from Arkansas, too.”

  Ms. Brooks was about to respond when the afternoon bell sounded. She sped to the front of the classroom, and said, “That’s it for today, class. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

  Joyce and I walked out of typing class side by side. Joyce was shaking her right hand and wearing a frown. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked, eyeing my friend’s hand.

  “I broke a dumb fingernail in that dumb typing class. Who invented that mess anyway? I hate typing,” Joyce said, poking out her bottom lip.

  “Chile, please, typing is fun. And it’s a lot faster than trying to write an English paper by hand.”

  “Whatever,” Joyce responded, holding her middle finger as we walked down the hallway.

  “Don’t get mad at me just because you can’t type,” I teased. She started giggling until something in the hallway caught her attention. Standing in front of an open locker to her right were Rodney Payne and Francis Hardaway. They were facing each other, or glaring at each other would be a more accurate description. Francis was about the same height and size as Rodney, and she wasn’t backing away from his penetrating stare. Francis had her hands to her side, flexing her fingers and making fists.

  “Well, well, what do you know? It looks like there’s trouble in Paradise,” I said, passing by them.

  “Yeah, I wonder what they’re arguing about,” Joyce said, glancing back at the odd couple. “Francis looks like she’d mad enough to rip his head off. Did you see how hard she slammed that locker in his face?”

  “I sure did. She slammed that thing like she wished it was his head.”

  “I wish it was his doggone head. Then, he’d know to stop playing around with people’s lives,” Joyce spouted.

  “I’m not worried about Rodney. As soon as Francis finds out what he’s about, it’s going to be all over for him, anyway.”