“From the look of things, she probably found out something already. Oh! Did you see that?” she asked, looking back.
“I sure did!” Man, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Francis kicked Rodney right between the thighs. He let out a deafening wail, dropped to his knees, and doubled over. Francis spit on him before walking away like nothing had happened.
Instead of his boys trying to help him up, they were all pointing and laughing while Rodney squirmed on the floor. I didn’t have any idea how it felt to get booted in the groin, but it looked like he was in serious pain. Joyce and I looked at one another and fell out laughing, too. He’d gotten exactly what he deserved.
*
Minutes later, we were taking seats in the library for Study Hall as our last class of the day. I walked over to the wooden magazine rack and pulled out the latest copy of Black Enterprise magazine. Returning to the table, I reviewed the table of contents, turned to an article in the rear, and began reading.
“Why are you reading that boring magazine?” Joyce asked, peeking over my shoulder.
“It’s not boring to me. I enjoy reading about black entrepreneurs. I plan to have my own business one day.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. What type of business?”
“I’m not sure, yet. I’ve been thinking about becoming a nurse and creating a home health care service.”
“Wow, Ree. What made you think of doing that?”
“I want to be in a position to help sickly people like my grandmother who may be home bound. I could have a team of nurses that go out to check on people in their homes and help them out. A lot of rural people don’t have transportation into town. They need nurses that can come to their homes and do what I do for Grandma every day.”
“You have a point. I never thought about that before. Your grandma is lucky to have you.”
“I love my grandma. I think I’m the lucky one. Anyway, it’s just one of the things I’m thinking about doing,” I said, turning a page in the magazine.
“I don’t think I could ever be a nurse. I can’t stand the sight of blood. And I don’t know if I’d like being around sick people all the time,” Joyce stated, slouching in her seat.
“You would get used to it. It’s not so bad. Once you get a set routine, it’s pretty easy to follow.”
“I wish I had some idea of what I want to do in life. Right now, I just want to get out of high school and get out of my parents’ house. Anything after that is gravy.”
“I know what you mean. My parents are cool, but I can’t wait to leave home and get my own place.”
Chapter Eight
“Hey, is Joshua going to play in the game tonight?” Joyce asked, sitting up in her chair.
“I think so. I mean—I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”
“I was just asking because I know Tyrone is still in the hospital. How’s he doing?”
“He’s doing well for somebody who broke a leg in two places, but he won’t be coming home today. And when he does, he’s going to be in a cast for a long time.”
“I know he’s going to be miserable.”
“I just can’t wait for him to get home. My parents won’t let me go visit him in the hospital…”
“Shhh, I need you young ladies to quiet down,” the librarian whispered.
I returned to the magazine article while Joyce pretended to study one of her textbooks. When the bell finally sounded at the end of the school day, Joyce was the first one to close her book and stand up. “Let’s go,” Joyce said, staring down at me.
“I’m coming. I just have one more paragraph to read,” I answered, raising my index finger. I didn’t lift my eyes from the magazine page.
“I have to go, because I’m riding home with my cousin, Erin, today. We have some errands to run for our mothers. I’ll see you at the game tonight, right?”
“Yes, I’ll be there even if it is in the middle of the week this time,” I said, sighing.
“I know, they don’t usually play on Wednesdays, but I think only the boys are playing tonight so it won’t take long.”
“Okay, I’ll see you there,” I said, waving good-bye.
*
It felt kinda strange riding the bus without Joyce. I sat by the window thinking about Tyrone and how his life had changed in the course of just one day. Every corner that the bus turned reminded me of riding in the car with him at one time or another.
He’d been good about taking me for rides to the store, to school, and to visit my friends every now and then. Tyrone had even let me tag along on a date one time with his ex-girlfriend, Sherry Brown, a pint-sized teenage, when they went to the county fair a couple of years ago. That was one of the best memories I had of him. I wasn’t very fond of Sherry, but I enjoyed some of the scary rides with them especially since Joyce didn’t like riding the scary stuff.
“Hey, Tyrone, can we ride that?” I asked, pointing up at the Big Dipper.
“Yeah, let’s go for it,” he responded, looking at his date.
Sherry shook her head and looked at both of us like we were crazy, and said, “You two go ahead. I’m staying on the ground this time. I’m still dizzy from the last ride we got on.”
“Ah, come on. Don’t be a chicken.” Tyrone teased, pulling Sherry’s arm.
“No, thank you. I’m going to get me a soda, and I’ll be right here when you two return, okay?”
“Let’s go, Reecy,” Tyrone said, leading the way.
By the time we came off of that ride which had dipped and turned us in every possible direction, I felt a queasiness in my stomach like I’d never felt before. We had barely stumbled off of the ride when I bent over and released the entire contents of my dinner along with a few other goodies I’d eaten at the fair, including greasy elephant ears.
Anyway, Sherry dug into her purse and pulled out a tissue and offered it to me along with the remaining half of her Coke. I gladly accepted the soda and Sherry as a friend after that little episode.
“I think someone has had enough fair for one evening,” Tyrone said, wrapping an arm around me. He didn’t even laugh at me or tell anyone what happened that night. It was our secret.
He’s really a terrific brother. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I hope he’s doing better today. I wonder if he’ll still have to go in the Army.
Reecy! Reecy! Let’s go,” the voice said.
Snapping out of my daydream, I looked up into Joshua’s face. “Girl, what’s wrong with you?” he asked.
I was startled. It took me a second to realize that I was still sitting on the bus, which had stopped right in front of my house.
“Reecy, come on and get off the bus.” Joshua stood beside me while I gathered my things and scrambled off the seat, exiting the bus in front of him.
I finished giving Grandma her medicine along with a snack and headed back to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. I pulled a large, two-pound pack of ground beef from the refrigerator that had been thawing out all day. I reached underneath the kitchen sink and pulled out the big cast iron skillet Mama liked to use.
Turning on the gas stove, I adjusted the flame, and placed the pan on top of the eye. I opened the package of meat and dumped it into the skillet. Using the manual can opener, I opened two cans of Manwich sandwich sauce.
In minutes, I had prepared enough sloppy joes and cans of whole kernel corn to feed five hungry people. Now that everything is ready, I can go take a quick bath and get ready for the game tonight.
Before my parents made it home, I had pulled on a pair of dark bell bottom jeans and slipped into a fly printed smock top with long sleeves. I picked out my medium-sized afro and sprayed it well with some Afro Sheen. I applied a hint of strawberry roll-on lip gloss, checked my purse for money to get into the basketball game, grabbed my black wool coat, and walked down the hallway. The bus would be back to pick me up at any minute.
“Mama, when is Tyrone coming home?” I asked, meeting her in the narrow hallway.
“I
think they’re going to dismiss him tomorrow if he continues doing well, baby. Let’s pray that he does.”
“Don’t worry, Mama, I’ve been praying for Tyrone every night. I’ll see you after the game,” I said, opening the front door.
“Reecy, it looks like it’s going to rain. Take that umbrella by the door with you.”
“Okay, Mama.” I snatched up the umbrella and walked out. I could hear the bus coming around the bend in the road.
*
There were only twenty seconds left to go in the basketball game, and Bell High School was down by only one point. Joshua dribbled the ball to the corner, looking for an open man. He didn’t see anyone available, so he dribbled back to the free throw line. With only ten seconds on the clock, Joshua bolted down the middle lane and got fouled. The referee blew his whistle and raised his hand. He signaled for Joshua to take two free-throw shots.
I held my breath, knowing that Joshua hated taking free throws. He only had a fifty percent average in that area. Crossing my fingers, I mentally encouraged Joshua to do his best.
Joshua missed the first shot, and the opposing team members started clapping. “Come on, Josh, you can do this,” I declared, still clapping.
As soon as Josh put up the second shot, he headed in for the rebound. He captured the ball and dribbled out a few feet. Joshua turned around, and released the ball into the air.
The crowd fell silent as all eyes followed the ball from Joshua’s hands to the downward curve it made in the air as it passed through the orange rim and swished through the white net. “Yes!” Joyce and I yelled, jumping up and hugging each other. The whole crowd went berserk.
“This means we’re still undefeated!” Joyce shouted over the roar of the sold-out gymnasium.
“We’re undefeated,” we chanted, waving our hands in the air. The noise was incredible as everyone hustled to get out of the gym.
We were close to being the last two people out of the building. We had decided to sit in the stands and talk instead of wrestling with the crowd to get outside. When we stepped through the doubled doors of the auditorium, the drizzling rain politely met us.
“Ah, man,” I complained, clutching my short, black umbrella. “I knew it was going to rain tonight. Now my hair is going to draw up.” Holding the handle upward, I popped the button and waited for the device to unfold.
Joyce giggled, turned up the collar on her coat, and snuggled underneath the small umbrella with me. We walked towards the line waiting to board our bus. “What are you laughing at?” I asked.
“I’m laughing at you and your hair. You can plait it up when you get home tonight and still look good tomorrow,” she stated, staring at my rapidly shrinking natural.
“I know that. I’m just tired, and I might not feel like doing that later.”
“Well, I’m glad I braided my hair up last…”
Joyce stopped in mid-sentence. Suddenly, there was a tremendous outbreak of laughter all around us. The other kids in front of us and the ones waiting in line for the other buses were all laughing and pointing past us. We looked backwards to see Francis Hardaway swinging a long red umbrella across Rodney’s hunched back as he screamed out in pain.
Turning towards Francis with a raised arm, Rodney tried protecting himself from the next blow. Francis’s face was wet and riddled with anger. We couldn’t tell if she was crying or just wet from the rain. However, her anger was unmistakable as she raised the umbrella high in the air again. Rodney shouted, “Girl, you better not hit me no more. I’m not playing with you!”
“Rodney Payne, I hate you!” Francis shouted, bringing the umbrella down hard against his arm. This time, the device bent backwards, but Francis held on to it, preparing to beat him some more.
“That’s enough, young lady,” Coach Ellis stated, grabbing Francis’s raised hand.
“Settle down now,” Assistant Coach Harris chimed in. He was holding Rodney’s arms behind his back. “Both of you are going to see the principal in the morning.”
“Let me go.” Francis struggled with Coach Ellis. “I swear I’m going to kick his butt, again.”
“I said that’s enough. Now which one of these buses are you supposed to get on?” Coach Ellis inquired.
Francis stopped struggling long enough to point at a bus on the far end. “Well, I suggest you get on that bus and go on home. I’m going to report this incident to the principal first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t care who you report it to. I’m going to kick his butt every time I see him if he keeps lying on me,” she declared, pointing at Rodney. Francis straighten her top, turned away from the coach, and headed to her bus carrying the broken red umbrella.
“Whatever!” Rodney shouted after Francis. “You better be glad you’re a big girl.” He yanked his arms out of the assistant coach’s grip, rushed to his car, and sped away in front of the buses.
“Wow!” I exclaimed, peeping out the bus window as the bus pulled off. “That Francis is mean, but that Rodney deserves it and more.”
“Yeah, it’s good to see somebody beating his nasty behind,” Joyce said, laughing loud as everybody else on the school bus. “Did you hear how he cried out like a little sissy?”
“He sounded just like a little girl, but it wasn’t as bad as the last time when she kicked him in the you-know-what.” I laughed and clapped. “I know that big ole umbrella had to hurt, though.”
“I know all the boys are gonna clown him forever. I wonder if he’s going to be bold enough to show his face in school tomorrow after that beat down.”
“He’ll probably be there. I’ll bet money on it, with his lying self,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t think I feel sorry for that joker. I hope he’s learned his lesson. But then again, probably not.”
“I tried to tell you. He messed with the wrong girl when he messed with Francis. It ain’t no telling what she gon’ do to him next time she sees him,” Joyce said, scooting down in her seat.
“Well, we should have an interesting day at school tomorrow for sure,” I commented. We glanced at one another and then doubled over in laughter. It seemed like Rodney had finally met his match in Francis.
*
Joyce and I were in the cafeteria enjoying our spaghetti plates when Alex Salters, one of Rodney’s teammates, sat down beside Joyce. “Hi, Joyce, my friend asked me to give you this,” Alex said, sliding a folded sheet of paper across the table.
“What’s that?” Joyce asked, staring at the paper with narrowed eyes.
“It’s a note from my man, Rodney,” he replied.
“I don’t want that. You can take that right back to him.” Joyce pushed the note away from her.
“Look, I’m just the messenger. You can read it or don’t read it.” He shrugged. “I’ll see you later,” Alex stated, rising from his seat. Joyce watched Alex as he strolled away from the table, bopping like he heard music playing in the background.
“What was that all about?” I asked, following Alex with my eyes.
“It’s a note from Rodney,” Joyce answered, unfolding the sheet of paper. It only took a couple of seconds to read the short message. “He wants to meet with me after school today. He says that he wants to talk to me about something.”
“Chile, please, you’d be a fool to meet with him after what we witnessed last night. Don’t even worry about that.”
“I don’t know, Ree,” Joyce stated, pondering the message. “Maybe he’s ready to apologize or something.”
“Ha! I seriously doubt that. It’s not possible for a leopard to change his spots.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you believe in forgiving people?”
“I’m not telling you to not forgive him; I’m saying you shouldn’t meet with him. You shouldn’t want to be seen with him anyway. What’s done is done.”
“Well, I just felt a little sorry for him last night. It must have been really embarrassing for him to get beaten by a girl in front of all his friends.”
“Who cares? Rodney should be more responsible with the girls at this school. We don’t know who all he’s infected with his careless lifestyle. And I hardly believe he’s ready to change now.”
“You’re right,” Joyce responded, crumpling the paper. “I don’t have any more time to waste on Rodney. Let him move on and mess up someone else’s life.”
“That’s the spirit. Now give me five,” I demanded, holding out my palm.
Joyce gave me a hard slap across the hand, and said, “You got it.”
Chapter Nine
Glancing up from my plate, I saw Francis Hardaway strutting into the lunchroom wearing a short jean skirt and knee-high, patent leather boots. I could swear the girl was throwing daggers with her eyes at Joyce.
“Hey, Joyce, let’s get out of here. I have to use the restroom before the bell rings,” I said, gathering my trash.
“I’m right behind you,” Joyce responded.
I entered the girls’ bathroom and walked to the stall all the way at the end. Joyce took the one right next to me, closed the door, and locked it.
Before she could sit down on the toilet seat, I heard Joyce scream. Wobbling out of my stall, I asked, “What in the world is wrong with you?”
“Look at this, Ree. Someone wrote something about me on the back of this door. ‘Joyce Campbell has a venereal disease. I would stay away from her if I was you,’” she read. “How could anybody be so cruel?” she asked, wiping a tear with her fingers.
“Don’t worry about it, Joyce. I just saw Francis in the cafeteria with a smirk on her face. She probably wrote this.”
“This means that everybody in the school probably knows I have VD. Oh, no, I’ll never live this down. My life is ruined. I can’t take any more of this!” Joyce sat down on the toilet seat and cried her eyes out.
Comforting her the best I could, I patted Joyce on the back, saying encouraging words, but it was useless. Joyce didn’t want to be consoled; she only wanted to continue crying. It was what she seemed to need at that minute.
Bell Bottom High: Book 2: Sophomore Sorrows Page 7
