At the Crossroads (9 page)

A car pulled up across the street at Mrs. Bertha’s house, and a lady got out and walked up to the house. Jason stood up and sighed. Franky could tell he didn’t want to go.

“I guess that’s your ride, lil whoadie,” Franky said, releasing him.

“Yeah. That’s my aunt. She’s mean. I wish I could just stay over here with y’all until my grandma gets out of the hospital,” he said.

“Nah,” Franky said. “You need to take your lil butt with your aunt. I gave you our telephone number, so if you need me, just call, okay?”

“Okay,” Jason said reluctantly. “But I really need to stay with y’all, because who’s gonna help you with your homework?”

“I think I’ll manage,” Franky said as he rubbed Jason’s head. They stood and walked across the street. Jason’s aunt didn’t even bother to look his way. She didn’t say thank you for watching her nephew or even a quick hello.

Jason walked over to the passenger side and paused. He waved to Franky and wore a look that was so sad Franky felt sorry for him. Franky waved back and hoped that he would see his little buddy again soon.

F
ranky sat at the kitchen table going over his textbooks. He was surprised at how quickly he picked up the work. He took a few of the practice tests, which were at the end of each chapter and scored in the low eighties. Not bad for someone who hadn’t seen the inside of a classroom in years.

He looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. It was almost nine o’clock. He was hoping that Nigel would come walking through the door, but the house was totally quiet. Rico had gone out as usual, and for the first time in a long while, Franky got some much-needed peace and quiet. He walked over and grabbed the cordless telephone off the counter. He stuck his hand in his back pocket and came out with Khadija’s telephone number. He stared at the girl’s handwriting and how she put a little heart at the bottom of her name. Was that normal or was that for him? He dialed the number and she picked up.

“Hello?” Khadija said.

“What’s up?” Franky said. “This is Franky, from school.”

“New Orleans,” she said, her joy jumping through the phone. “I see you’re still on that central time. I said eight o’clock, boy.”

“Why are you fussing already?” Franky asked.

“Because I hate when people don’t follow directions,” Khadija said.

“I had a lot going on when I got home, so I apologize. If it’s too late, I can talk to you at school tomorrow.”

“Boy, stop,” she said. “You’re straight. Actually, I just got in the house, too. My dad just came home from Iraq today. So I’ve been hanging with him getting spoiled.”

Franky zeroed in on how different she sounded. At school there was a hardness, but on the phone she sounded like a typical suburban girl.

“What did you do today after school, besides fight?” she said with a giggle.

“Don’t even remind me of that one.”

“I’m glad you did that. Now you won’t have to worry about nobody around there running their mouth anymore. Trust me—the word is already around the school. My phone’s been blowing up since I got home. Everybody’s asking me about you. They talking about ‘What’s up with yo boyfriend? I heard he knocked Tyrone out.’ I told them you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Why did you have to say it like that?” he asked with a chuckle. “You act like something is wrong with me. Do I have an extra hand growing out of my forehead or something?”

“Oh, hush, shawty. It ain’t like that. I’m just saying. We just met. Like I said, I gotta check you out first. See if you’re worthy of the princess.”

“Princess, huh?” Franky said.

“That’s right. My daddy is the king, my mother is the queen, so what does that make me?”

“I guess that makes you the princess.”

“That’s right. And I need a prince, not a clown. I don’t do thugs. They are disgusting.”

“Well, don’t put me in the thug category. What happened after school was on him. I don’t bother anybody. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy are you talking about? You were defending yourself,” she said. “It’s not like you went looking for trouble. He did and I’m glad he found it with his ugly self.”

“Not really. He didn’t hit me. I could’ve walked away.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t worry about it. Are you a quiet guy, Franky?”

“I am if I don’t have anything to say.”

“Don’t get smart, shawty. You know what I mean.”

“I’m just saying. I’m not really a loudmouth if that’s what you’re asking, but I’m not afraid to talk.”

“When did you move here from New Orleans?”

“Right after Hurricane Katrina.”

“So where did you go to school before you came to M and M?”

“I went to school in New Orleans.”

“But you said you came here after Katrina.”

“I did.”

“Wait a minute. Hurricane Katrina was years ago.”

“I know. Trust me. I know exactly when it was.”

Franky took a deep breath, and even though he never shared his story with strangers, he decided to share with her. He went through all of the details of the storm, his father and his uncle dying because neither one of them could leave his grandmother to die in a house that she refused to leave. He shared with her how his mother’s parents never wanted anything to do with him or her since she married outside of her race. He told her about how he and his cousins stayed in the dome for a little over a week with very little food or any real help from the government. Finally he told her about the trip to Atlanta where he and his cousins had been fending for themselves for almost three years now.

“Wow,” she said. “Oh my God, Franky. I’m so sorry to hear that. Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s all right. I’m getting back into the swing of things. Slowly but surely,” Franky said.

“I’m stunned,” Khadija said. “I’m sitting over here crying my eyes out.”

“Don’t do that,” he said. “It’s life. Lots of families were ruined because of Katrina.”

“I know, but I didn’t know anybody down there, so to me it was something I saw on TV, but now …” she said. “Man. I don’t know what to say. That’s crazy. I wouldn’t know what to do without my mom and dad.”

“Yeah, that’s the toughest part,” Franky said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over losing them.”

“I knew there was something special about you.”

“There is nothing special about me. I just went through the storms like everybody else. I survived, but sometimes I wish I would’ve died with my dad,” Franky said.

“Franky,” she said. “Don’t say that. God left you here for a reason.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “What reason could that be? To suffer? Because that’s all I’ve been doing.”

“No,” she said, showing a sign of maturity that she didn’t at school. “Your story hasn’t been written yet. My dad says that being a teenager is your foundation years. You build a bad one and your whole adult life will come crumbling down.”

“Your dad sounds like my dad,” Franky said.

“Maybe all dads sound the same,” she said. “If they are about anything. Now I see why you were up in class doing your work so hard. That’s that private school still in ya.”

“I guess. I missed school, and I really need to find me a book bag.”

“Yeah. Especially if you’re gonna be taking your books home every night.”

“I need to bring them home so I can catch up. I’m lost up in there.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’ll bring you a book bag to school tomorrow. I have plenty of them from basketball and stuff.”

“Thanks. But now you know all there is to know about me, so it’s your turn. Tell me about you,” Franky said.

“Well, let’s see,” Khadija started. “I’m the youngest of three kids. My oldest sister is in college at the University of Washington in Seattle. I don’t know why she wanted to go all the way out there, but she seems to like it, so who am I to complain? My older brother is … well … Let’s just say he’s trying to find himself, and the state of Georgia’s judicial system is giving him a nice little place to stay while he does it.”

“So he’s locked up,” Franky said.

“Ding, ding, ding,” she said. “You are correct. And it’s a shame, too, because he’s so nice, but he wants to be a gangster. Why I do not know.”

“I see. Although it’s nice to hear about your sister and brother, I want to know about the girl who wears the blue and red stuff in her hair.”

“You really don’t like my hair like this, do you?”

“Nope,” he said. “It looks crazy. Royal-blue and fire-engine-red yarn? That’s too much going on.”

“Okayyyyyy,” she whined. “I’ll take it out tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that for me. It’s your hair.”

“I know that. Maybe I’ll leave it in since you don’t care one way or the other,” she said.

“Will you please get back to telling me about you?” he said.

“I’m simple. Not much to me. I run track and play basketball for M and M. Oh, and I’m in the SAE. But overall I live a pretty boring life. I spend my free time on Facebook and Twitter. Do you tweet?”

“What?”

“I guess that answers my question.”

“What is SAE?”

“Student Action for Education,” she said proudly.

“How are you in the Student Action for Education when you don’t even do your schoolwork?”

“I do my work, shawty,” Khadija said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never had anything less than a B in my life, shawty. And I had only one of those. I told you I know that stuff Mr. Johnson was writing already. I took Spanish in middle school, plus I got Rosetta Stone.”

“Is that right? Well, I apologize.”

“No need for all that. Just know that I’m on it doggone it,” Khadija said. “I like when people underestimate me. They do that on the basketball court, too. The girls are saying I’m not gonna make the varsity as a freshman. I’m like, we’ll see. Not only am I gonna make it, but I’ma start, too. They don’t want me to come out there because they know somebody’s spots getting got.”

“Listen to you,” Franky said. “Ms. Confidence. I guess you’re pretty good, huh?”

“I’m straight,” she said.

“I went to look at the football team practice after school. They look pretty good. I’ma go talk to the coach tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s good. Why aren’t you in my other classes?”

“One of my friends told me that I’m in the dumb classes,” he said with a frown. “The lady in the front office told me they placed me there because they didn’t have my school records from my old school and because it’s been a while since I’ve attended, so they’ll have to see.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s understandable. Hopefully they’ll move you soon. You gotta role with the gifted. ‘The nerds’ as they like to call us.”

“I don’t know when I’m taking that test, but I hope they hurry up and give it to me,” he said. “Hold on for a minute.”

Franky heard some commotion outside of his house and jumped up to see what was going on. He ran to the front door and saw Rico on top of Stick. He was pummeling him senseless, and Stick was pleading for his life like the scared coward he was. Franky ran back to the phone.

“Khadija,” he said, his voice rising. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school. My cousin is outside fighting.”

“Okay,” she said. “You can call me back later if you want. I’ll be up late.”

“Okay,” Franky said, and hung up the phone.

He rushed outside to see if he could get his cousin to stop. There was a crowd of at least twenty people, and it seemed that Stick had done all of them wrong at least once, because no one made a move to help the old bum. Just as Franky was stepping off the last step, he heard a huge explosion. It was a gunshot. Rico looked up as the crowd scattered every which way. Rico stopped hitting Stick and stared into the eyes of Stick’s mother. She had the gun pointed at him.

“You better take your hands off of my boy or it’ll be the last time you take a breath,” the surprisingly young-looking woman said.

Rico still had Stick by his collar with his fist balled up in the ready position. He looked like he was about to punch him again, but then he paused and looked to his right.

“Rico!” Franky yelled, stopping his cousin from what seemed to be a premature death.

Rico took a few deep breaths and turned away. He looked back at the neighborhood bum, who had dirt and leaves all in his hair and a bloody nose. “You better fix this situation with my brother, or I promise you the next time I won’t stop, ya heard.”

“I ain’t gonna ask you twice to get your filthy hands off of my baby,” Stick’s mother said.

Rico pushed the skinny man down onto the ground and stood up. He stared at the woman as if daring her to shoot him.

“You have a good night,” he said, and kicked Stick in his ribs before walking over him and toward his house.

“You got a death wish, boy,” Stick’s mother said before rushing over to help her sorry son to his feet.

Franky followed Rico into the house and paused as his cousin paced back and forth to let off a little steam.

“We gotta get Nigel out,” he said. “I don’t mind him sitting in there if he got caught doing his dirt, but I’ll be a snake in the grass if he do one day behind the fence for that fool, Stick. He at home chillin’ and my brother in there doing his time. That just can’t happen. Nah, I won’t be able to sleep. And that trash he got for a momma gonna regret the day she pulled a gun on me. You pull a gun on me, you better use it.”

Franky listened to his cousin rant and knew there was truth to everything that he said. He didn’t like Stick nor did he care too much for the woman who enabled him, but he didn’t wish them any harm.

“Do you know if Nigel paid that rent?”

“Yeah. He paid it. He dropped it off with the landlord before he took me to school,” Franky said.

“Dag,” he snapped. “I needed that money. I gotta get some dough, whoadie. I’m going a different route than that lawyer. I wish they would just let Mrs. Bertha have a visitor, and she can fix this whole mess—that is, if they cops go holla at her.”

“What you mean you going a different route?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, whoadie. I just need to get my hands on some cash.”

“I know a dude who might be able to let me hold something. I’ma have to pay him back, though,” Franky said, thinking of the money that was stuffed in his brush.