Darnell Rock Reporting

by Walter Dean Myers

  “It's a cute idea, Darnell,” Mrs. Joyner said, stopping him in the hallway. “But do you know anything about raising vegetables?”

  “No,” Darnell said with a shrug.

  “And do you think the vagrants around the school will?” she asked, turning sharply on her heel before he had a chance to answer. He watched her walk quickly down the hall.

  Estelle Joyner was one of the best-looking teachers in the school. She taught music and commercial skills and was a homeroom teacher, too. Darnell didn't know why she was against the garden.

  “She probably just wants a place to park her car,” Larry said at recess.

  “What kind of car she drive?” Darnell asked.

  “She got a bad Vo!” Larry said, referring to the silver Volvo that Miss Joyner had recently bought. “She got black-tinted windows and everything.”

  “I should tell her if she let me drive it I'll say they should make the courts into a parking lot,” Darnell said.

  “She ain't gonna let you drive it because she's stuck up,” Larry said. “She thinks she cute.”

  “She is cute,” Darnell said.

  “You really care about if they make it a garden or not?” Larry asked.

  “I don't know,” Darnell said. “It's an idea. You know, maybe it would be cool. I think it's better than a parking lot. I don't know nothing about raising vegetables or stuff like that, though.”

  “You didn't know nothing about writing for a newspaper until you did it,” Larry said. “Yo, there goes Freddy. You want to mess with him?”

  “Yeah.” They walked over to where Freddy Haskell was talking to Paula. Freddy's back was against the wall, and Darnell just stood as close to him as he could. He didn't speak at all.

  “Hi,” Freddy said, trying to back away.

  “Hi?” Darnell looked at Freddy. “Who told you you could speak to a seventh-grader?”

  “You came over here,” Freddy said.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Darnell found himself starting to laugh and looked away. “You messing with me?”

  “No,” Freddy said, smiling.

  “Hey, look.” Larry pointed at Freddy. “He's laughing at you. Don't hit him, Darnell! Don't hit him!”

  Larry grabbed Darnell as if he were preventing a fight and yelled at Freddy to run. Freddy took a look at Darnell, couldn't figure out whether he was really mad or not, and then ran down the hall.

  “Get out of the hallway!” Mr. Baker's voice boomed as he spoke. “And, Darnell, get into the office and wait for me there!”

  “Man, I wasn't doing nothing!” Darnell complained.

  “You weren't doing anything,” Mr. Baker corrected Darnell's English. “And you had better be in the office when I get there. You, too, Larry.”

  Darnell could feel himself getting mad. He didn't like being in trouble, and he especially didn't like it today, when everybody was talking about him. He was doing okay, and now Mr. Baker was just putting him down. He sat on the end of the bench and didn't even answer Larry when he spoke to him.

  Mark Robbins came into the office to leave some papers with the school secretary. When he saw Darnell sitting in the office, he asked what had happened.

  “Mind your business,” Darnell said, “before I bust you in your face!”

  “You know”—Mark sniffed as he spoke—”I know karate.”

  He gave Darnell what he imagined was a tough look as he left the office.

  Guys like Mark never got into trouble, Darnell thought. Chris McKoy said that they didn't get into trouble because they were white, but that wasn't right, Darnell thought. Guys like Mark were always doing the right thing, always doing the homework, always being on time. And after a while people just expected them to be all right, the same way that people expected him to be doing something wrong.

  The clock on the wall moved slowly, and the period was half over before Mr. Baker came back into the office. He glanced at Darnell and Larry and told them both to sit up.

  “What is the matter with you boys?” Mr. Baker asked angrily.

  “Nothing,” Larry said.

  Darnell looked over at Larry and saw that he was looking away from Mr. Baker toward the globe on top of a file cabinet.

  “School is not a game you're here to play,” Mr. Baker said. “One day you're both going to learn that the hard way. Now get on back to your classes!”

  Larry waited until they got out into the hallway to call Mr. Baker a turkey. “We weren't even doing nothing,” he said.

  “We weren't doing anything*” Darnell said.

  There was a basketball game between boys and girls at lunchtime, and Tony O!, Eddie, and Darnell were playing against Tamika, Kitty Gates, and a Puerto Rican girl named Nicholasa. Nicholasa was the best artist in the school.

  “Tamika, hit Eddie on his zit!” Angie called out. “You can't miss it.”

  “Shut up!” Eddie called.

  Darnell knew that the girls would be easy to beat if the boys played as hard as they could. But when they played against girls, they had to beat them while they were looking cool, which was kind of hard to do, especially with Tamika playing.

  Tamika could play any sport, she was just that good. Kitty wasn't as good as Tamika, but she tried like anything and she hated to lose. Darnell passed the ball a lot, giving it over to Tony O! and Eddie. The game went to 10, and it was Nicholasa who scored the final points as the girls won, 10 to 6.

  “It was your fault, man,” Tony O! said, pointing at Eddie. “You didn't score a point.”

  “I'll score a point on your head!” Eddie said. “You should have been playing with the girls. You look like one!”

  “Hey, Darnell!” Donald Williams had a high, squeaky voice. “This guy is looking for you. He's from the newspaper!”

  Everybody turned to see Peter Miller. He was tall and had a full, light brown beard. He reached out and shook Darnell's hand.

  “Can we go someplace and talk?” he asked. “Somewhere we can hear each other?”

  “We can go in the library,” Darnell said.

  Darnell tried not to notice the other kids looking at him as he and Peter Miller walked off the basketball courts toward the school.

  “Are these the courts that are going to be torn down?” the reporter asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Darnell said.

  “Call me Peter,” the reporter said. “When did you first get the idea for making this a garden for the homeless?”

  “I met this guy,” Darnell said. “He's homeless and everything. I always see him, you know, on Jackson Avenue. You know where Jackson Avenue is?”

  “Sure. It's a beat-up neighborhood, a real ghetto,” Peter said.

  Darnell looked at Peter. “What's that mean?” he asked.

  “It's … just not a nice part of town,” Miller said.

  They reached the library, and Miss Seldes nodded toward them. Darnell was glad to see her in the library. They found a seat in the corner, and Darnell sat facing the window.

  “So how would this garden work?” Peter asked.

  “I don't know too much about gardens,” Darnell said. “But I guess they could grow vegetables and stuff there.”

  “You think they could grow enough to keep from being hungry?”

  Darnell thought of Sweeby, and of the man who had stolen a potato. Then, for the first time, he felt ashamed of himself. Here he was talking about feeding the homeless and he didn't know anything about it at all. He thought of just getting up and walking away, or telling Peter that maybe he was wrong.

  “Maybe you can't feed all the people that's hungry,” he said. “But you could give them a chance to help out and feed themselves. They feel better when they can help themselves.”

  “You really think they want to help themselves?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I'm interviewing one of the guys now,” Darnell said. “Not right now, not this minute, but Tve been talking to him for a while. And I know he wants to
help himself. You know, you got to let people have their dignity, and stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Peter looked at Darnell. “You think you could get this guy to talk to me? Might make a good human interest story.”

  “I guess so,” Darnell said.

  Peter went over to Miss Seldes and spoke to her. Darnell saw her nod, and then Peter beckoned for Darnell to come over to where he stood near the phone.

  Peter dialed and then asked for a Mickey Anderson. Susan Seldes was looking at some file cards, but Darnell thought she just wanted to listen.

  “Hello? Mr. Anderson?” Peter made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and nodded toward Darnell. “Hello, I'm over at South Oakdale. I'm talking to the kid who wrote the article on making the basketball courts into a garden for … right … right.… Anyway, he says he's going to interview a homeless guy. I was thinking that maybe I should do it for the paper. Might make a good human interest … what? What? He's only a kid.… Yeah, just a minute.”

  Peter's expression changed as his mouth tightened. He looked over at Darnell.

  “You don't think you could do the interview for the Journal, do you?” Peter Miller was shaking his head from side to side, signaling “no.”

  Behind him Miss Seldes was nodding her head up and down.

  “Yeah,” Darnell said. “I can do it.”

  Darnell absolutely knew that the two hardest people in the school to talk to were Angie Cruz and Tony O! Talking to Tony O! was like being a traffic cop in a Roadrunner cartoon. You had to hold him down to get two sensible words out of him. And Angie talked a mile a minute. She talked so fast she would be on the next sentence while you were still trying to figure out what she said in the last one. So when he saw Angie and Tony O! arguing in front of the building, he stopped to listen. Angie was doing most of the talking, while Tony O! was playing an imaginary game of basketball around her.

  “I can't even figure out why Johnny wants to be on the track team if he can't run fast,” Angie was saying.

  “Lots of people want to be on a team.” Tony O! stopped his imaginary dribble to catch his breath. “It's cool to be on a basketball team or a track team. You get to wear a uniform, and you get to hang out with the team. That's all cool stuff/'

  “Yeah, could be,” Angie said. “But it doesn't make a lot of sense if you can't run fast.”

  “So, maybe he thinks he can run fast,” Tony O! answered.

  “You said he can't,” she said.

  “I know he can't,” Tony O! said. “I've seen him running. He can't beat anybody.”

  Tony O! jiggled and wiggled around for a little while and then bumped Angie with his hip and went up for an imaginary shot.

  “Is running fast something you can learn how to do?” she asked, looking toward Darnell.

  “I don't think so,” Tony O! said. “You have to be born fast, like me.”

  “So why is Chris McKoy telling him he can be on the team?” Angie said.

  “How do I know?” Tony O! said.

  “What's happening?” Darnell came over and asked. Angie looked away for a moment, then turned back toward Darnell and smiled.

  “Did I ever mention to you that everybody in the Corner Crew, especially Chris McKoy, stunk?” Angie said.

  “Yo, what did the reporter want?” Tony O! asked.

  “Yo yourself, budgie-brain!” Angie snapped. “Don't you see I'm talking to Darnell?”

  “What did Chris do?” Darnell asked.

  “I think he's convinced my brother to try out for the track team,” Angie said. “All he's going to do is lose.”

  “So that's not terrible,” Darnell said.

  “I guess not,” Angie said, “if you're a loser!”

  The two boys watched as Angie stalked off, trying to adjust her book bag over one shoulder.

  “Hey, man.” Tony O! shook his head. “She got pissed and you got dissed!”

  “The way it be sometimes,” Darnell said with a shrug.

  “So what did the reporter want?”

  “The Journal might publish my interview with a homeless guy,” Darnell said.

  “Word?”

  “Word!” Darnell said. “You can ask Miss Seldes.”

  “Man, that's fresh!”

  “What can I tell you?” Darnell said. “You see Larry around?”

  “No,” Tony O! said. “You know, if you do an interview you should put it in the school paper first.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Darnell said.

  Darnell looked for Larry, couldn't find him, and went to the first class of the afternoon, one he had with Tamika. He was wondering if he should ask Tamika to go with him to interview Sweeby. Tamika wouldn't take no for an answer even if Sweeby didn't want to talk. But she had a fast mouth and might get everybody mad. Larry wouldn't say anything, but he would go with him and be on his side.

  Nicholasa and Tamika were sitting in the back of the room, and Tamika was braiding Nicholasa's hair while the teacher was reading some poetry.

  “Tamika, what are you doing?” Mrs. Finley asked.

  “I'm following the mood of the poetry,” Tamika said. ‘That kind of poetry makes me want to do somebody's hair.”

  “Haiku makes you want to do somebody's hair?” Mrs. Finley screwed up her face in disbelief.

  “Yeah,” Tamika answered. “Ain't it strange?”

  “Leave her hair alone and concentrate on trying to get the feel of the poetry!” Mrs. Finley was turning red.

  “But if her hair isn't right she's going to get upset,” Tamika said. “I think she's upset now. Nicho-lasa, baby, are you upset?”

  “I don't think so,” Nicholasa said in a quiet voice.

  “Does any of you know what the purpose of education is?” Mrs. Finley asked. “Does anybody here know?”

  Tamika raised her hand, and Mrs. Finley gave her a look that lowered it.

  Darnell was nervous the whole afternoon. Even when the dog got into the school and ran into the girls' bathroom, he couldn't keep his mind off the interview. He thought to himself that Sweeby might not even be on Jackson Avenue. He had never seen him anyplace else, but it was possible, he thought.

  By the time the final bell rang, he had decided to postpone the interview for at least another day.

  “Hey, Angie, your brother's in a fight!”

  Darnell didn't hear who said it, but he saw a crowd of kids looking out the window. He went over to look and saw that Angie's brother, Johnny, was standing near the fence in the yard and Benny and Larry were standing in front of him. Chris looked as if he was pushing him.

  Darnell went out the front door and down the side steps. He had to go all the way around the small toolshed to get to the yard. When he got into the yard he went up to where Johnny was still against the fence with Benny in his face.

  “You want to be on the track team, you got to practice !” Benny was yelling. “And you got to do it all the time or else you're not going to be on the team!”

  “Leave him alone!” Angie was there, and she pushed Benny. He pushed her back, hard.

  “So what are you going to do?” Benny Quiros was yelling again.

  “Leave him alone!” Angie was screaming at Benny. She pushed past Benny and grabbed her brother's arm. “Come on.”

  “No,” he said, pushing her hand away from him.

  “Johnny, come on!” she called to him.

  “No,” he said, pushing past her and heading toward the track. “I got to practice.”

  “What are you doing?” she called after him.

  “Leave him alone.” Darnell spoke softly to Angie. “Hey, Angie, don't worry, he'll be okay.”

  Angie walked away stiffly, tears running down her face. She was worried about her brother. Darnell watched her for a long moment, thinking about how concerned she looked, thinking about her brother, thinking about how some of the people from the Corner Crew were doing some really good things. Then his thoughts went from the Corner Crew to the guys standing around the fire on Jackson Avenue.
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  NINE

  Larry was at Darnell's house on Saturday morning and was watching television in the kitchen with Tamika when Darnell finished dressing. They were having cookies and milk.

  “Larry's got a milk mustache,” Tamika said.

  “Why don't you kiss it off for him,” Darnell said.

  “What is your problem, Darnell?” Tamika threw a towel at her brother.

  “Larry, you ready?” Darnell asked his friend.

  “Just because you're in a hurry to interview that homeless dude don't mean that Larry has to be,” Tamika cut in.

  “Suppose he's not there,” Larry said, putting cookies in his pocket.

  “Then he's not there,” Darnell said. “He was there the last time.”

  “How come Benny and everybody is going to coach Angie's brother in track?” Tamika asked.

  “So he can beat you,” Darnell said, grabbing his pad and pen off the counter. “I'm going.”

  “Wait up!” Larry called.

  Darnell hit the street and felt the cool wind in his face. He had heard earlier that it might rain, and he looked up at the late morning sky. There were clouds in the distance, but they were light, almost fluffy against the graying sky. On the apartment building across from where he lived, a flock of pigeons was being rousted from their coop by a thin man wearing dark shorts and a brown T-shirt.

  “That's Benny's father/' Larry said.

  “What do you think I should ask him?” Darnell walked near the edge of the sidewalk.

  “Ask him why he keeps so many pigeons on the roof,” Larry said.

  “Not him!” Darnell shot a glance at Larry, saw that he still had a smidgen of the milk mustache, and smiled. “I mean Sweeby.”

  “You better say something nice,” Larry said. “My mom said you better not mess with homeless people because they ain't got nothing to lose.”

  Darnell was quiet the rest of the way over to Jackson Avenue. He kept going over questions in his mind, but none of them sounded right.

  There were usually a few people, mostly women, on Fairview Street where Darnell lived. But as he walked toward Jackson Avenue, there were more and more people on the street. Darnell knew that there would be even more people on Jackson Avenue.

  “You know whose idea it was to coach Johnny Cruz?” Larry asked.