Christopher Paul Curtis (26 page)

Read Christopher Paul Curtis Online

Authors: Bucking the Sarge

Tags: #Flint (Mich.), #Group Homes, #Fraud, #Family, #Mothers, #People With Mental Disabilities, #Juvenile Fiction, #Special Needs, #Social Issues, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #United States, #Parenting, #Business Enterprises, #Humorous Stories, #Parents, #People & Places, #General, #African Americans, #Family & Relationships

BOOK: Christopher Paul Curtis
13.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I said to her, “I need to get a copy of my transcripts, too, I'm transferring to another school in another city next September.”

She went to a file cabinet and thumbed through some folders.

“Sorry to hear that, young man. By the way, I saw you on the news.”

I made a face.

She looked up from the cabinet and said, “Now, that's strange, I can't seem to find your records. I've got a Luther T. Farrell here, but according to this there's no
Loser
T. Farrell enrolled in the school.”

All the rejects and lowlifes who worked in the office and all the fools that had been sent down here to get disciplined died laughing.

Mrs. V said, “Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn't resist.”

She started Xeroxing my transcripts.

“That'll be twenty dollars for this copy and twenty dollars
for the copy we'll have to send directly to your new school, Luther. What's the address?”

“I'll have to email you when I know it. Can I talk to Mr. Brown now?”

She said, “Just a minute, he has someone in there.”

I peeked over her shoulder into Brown's office. Some poor soul was stuck in that tiny chair while Brown pretended to be on the phone.

Finally he held his hand over the mouthpiece and said to the student, “You should've thought of that before. Enjoy your time in detention.”

Some stupid seventh grader came mumbling out of the office.

Brown signaled to Mrs. V.

As soon as I got into the office he pointed at the chair.

He must be crazy. I just stood there.

He finally looked up to see why I hadn't followed his orders.

He put his hand over the mouthpiece again and said, “Right there, it just came in. Congratulations.”

I picked up my medal and couldn't help smiling.

4. WHITTIER MIDDLE SCHOOL

c. Farewell, My Love. Part One.

I kind of floated down to Ms. Warren's class. I knew this was her free period and I hoped she'd be in her room correcting papers or something.

I knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

I walked in and there she sat, looking like she just fell out of the pages of
Essence
magazine.

“Luther!”

“Hey, Ms. Warren.”

“Is something wrong? Why'd you and Sparky skip my class?”

“Everything's cool. I just wanted to come say goodbye. I'm going to be moving to another city today.”

“You know that's the trouble with you ninth graders, you all grow up to be tenth graders and leave us like we meant nothing to you.”

“No, Ms. Warren, it's not like that. I just wanted to come and tell you that you really helped me a lot, you got me using lists and I can see how helpful they are with everything. That's one of the things that got me organized for the science fairs.”

“Luther, you don't have to thank me, it was a pleasure having you as a student. If I didn't think it would embarrass you to death I'd give you a silver star to put on your forehead.”

We both laughed.

She said, “I saw you on TV the other night.”

“I know. I looked like a real idiot. They cut all the good parts out. The only good thing about it was that it was only on for a hot second.”

She said, “On channel twelve?”

I nodded.

She said, “At eleven o'clock?”

“No, I saw it at six.”

“They must not've shown the whole thing. At eleven
they did a very good report and you sounded very intelligent. You seemed a little nervous at first, but who wouldn't? They even had a statement from the mayor's office saying that because of you there was going to be a full investigation. He even thanked you for bringing this problem to light. You didn't see any of that?”

“No, all I saw was me licking my lips and saying, ‘Nope,’ ‘yup,’ and ‘uh-huh.’ ”

Ms. Warren laughed. “Too bad you missed it, you were most impressive.”

“Really?”

She laughed again. “I was overcome by your brilliance.”

I can't believe how fine Ms. Warren is! If I was a little older or she was a little younger she'd be in some deep trouble.

“Anyway, Ms. Warren, I gotta go. Thank you for all of your help and for making me feel like I can do anything.”

She said, “Luther T. Farrell, you get out of this room before you make me cry.”

She stood up and hugged me. I don't know how long I held on to her but after a while she started doing that squirming that women do when they want you to know that you're making them uncomfortable and if you don't quit pretty soon there're going to be hurt feelings involved. I let her go and left her room and her life.

Four down, four to go.

5. DEALING WITH DARNELL DIXON.

Darnell Dixon knew he'd crossed the line. It wasn't like he'd done it accidentally, either, like he'd kind of just
brushed a toe or two over. Uh-uh, what he'd done was a deliberate, Olympic-record-breaking, four-hundred-yard kangaroo-leap over the line. His words about the Sarge just couldn't be ignored or allowed to bounce off my mind of steel, there had to be some kind of payback.

I mean his slam about the condoms was pretty weak. But she is my momma and some respect is called for.

It wasn't like Darnell had been brought up in Utah or somewhere like that, he was a stone-cold Flintstone born and raised, so he had to know better than to play the dozens, it was the principle of the thing.

So once again it was lesson time and I knew the best way to cause Mr. Darnell Dixon pain. It was sitting in the parking lot shiny as a cue ball in the sun.

Was I going to slash his tires?

Nah. Childish and easily fixed by his insurance company.

Was I going to key his paint job?

No, no, no. Even though I knew some pretty funny things I could scratch in the paint.

Was I going to pour sugar in his gas tank?

Uh-uh. Too stupid a trick for what he'd done. Besides, I don't know if that really works.

Was I going to hide a dead fish under his backseat as a little natural air freshener?

Nope. The way he kept that Rivy Dog so clean, he'd find it before the corpse even had a chance to draw three flies.

Was I going to hop in his car, go to the Secretary of State's office, whip my power-of-attorney form out and sign
the Sarge's name and have the car put into my name at the same time I had those weak HI BABY license plates changed?

Hmmm, sounds like a winner to me.

With one quick signature the Riviera went from being Darnell Dixon's Certified Love Machine on Wheels to Luther T. Farrell's Philosophy Mobile! The car blue-booked at $20,000 so with that and the cash and the funds from the bus it came up to me taking $92,000, my education fund.

Five down, three to go.

6. HALO BURGER.

I drove into Halo Burger's lot and saw Bo's bike chained to the Dumpster. So far, so good.

It was even better news when I walked into the lobby and saw P.D. wiping tables. Great! I wouldn't have to talk to Bo.

I said, “P.D., what's happening?”

He turned around and gave me a hug. “Luther! Good to see you again!”

“Yeah, good to see you, too. Is Bo working today?”

He said, “Oh yeah, pretty darn nice guy, that Bo Travis. I'll go get him for you.”

“No! I gotta bounce. Could you give him this package for me?”

“You know me, Luther, when I say I'm gonna do something I do it.”

“Cool.” I handed P.D. the small box I put together for Bo.

“I'll get it right to him.”

“Anyway, P.D., you take care of yourself.”

“You too, Luther. I saw you on TV, I told my roommates you usually don't look that scared unless your mom's after you.”

“See you later, P.D.”

I was getting ready to pull out on Saginaw when a loud bang came from the trunk.

Bo Travis walked up to the driver's door. I got out.

He tapped the box I'd given to P.D. and said, “What is this?”

I'm getting pretty good at coming up with stories real quick. I said, “It's hush money. My mother saw all those magnets you had from Dontay Orlando Gaddy and she's scared to death of him. She figured you were gonna put a suit in on her so she was hoping you'd settle out of court.”

He said, “Tell your momma she doesn't have to worry, no one's gonna sue her, we hadn't paid the rent in three months, we ain't got no cause to sue no one.”

I said, “Whatever. She apologizes for what Darnell Dixon did and hopes that cash does something for your pain and suffering.” I couldn't believe the way these lies were just popping out!

He said, “Tell her thank you, but I wasn't thinking about—”

I said, “Look, Bo, that's fifteen G in that box, that could get you back in school. And you should just take it for KeeKee. Take it.”

He looked at the box, then looked down Saginaw Street. “All right, tell your mother thank you.”

“Cool.”

“And thank you for bringing me KeeKee's papers, she was really proud of those.”

“Be cool, Bo.”

Bo gave me some dap.

Six down, two to go.

7. CHESTER X AND LUTHER T RIDE AGAIN.

When I parked my Rivy Dog at the home, Mr. Baker was sitting on the front porch blowing a long stream of smoke up to the sky. A nearly full ashtray sat right next to him.

I walked up and he said, “Don't even think about it, Loser. And I know what I'm saying and I don't have a lisp, neither.”

“Whatever, Mr. Baker.”

I went inside. Sparky and the Crew were watching
The A-Team.
Chester X must still be down in our room.

I said, “Thanks a bunch for keeping an eye on things, Dewey.”

My sarcasm didn't mean a thing to him. He said, “I got you covered, bruh.”

I called Mr. Baker in, turned off the TV and, ignoring all the groans and grumbling, said, “OK, general announcement.” To make sure I had everyone's attention I stood in front of the TV.

“I've got some bad news. Today is the last day I'm going to be working here.”

I didn't expect tears or anything, but some kind of reaction would've been nice.

Mr. Baker said, “OK. Now what's the bad news?”

Mr. Foster said, “That
is
bad news, Luther. Who'll be our next aide?”

I said, “My mother will get someone in.”

Mr. Foster said, “Oh dear.”

Sparky said, “My man, you finally got up the nerve to quit! I guess in light of your recent felonies you're gonna be taking it on the lam, huh? Your timing couldn't've been better. Jerome just got sentenced to two years so there's lots of space at my crib.”

I told him, “Thanks, Sparky, but I'm moving down south.”

He said, “What?”

I said, “For real. I can't let you know yet where I'm moving, but once I get there I'll call you.”

Sparky really looked hurt. He said, “Oh, so that's what you meant when you said you weren't going to be here when your momma got back? You planning on moving away? You're just gonna up and go without telling your boy about it?”

“Sparky, what choice do I have?”

“What happened to ‘womb to tomb, birth to earth’? How you just gonna leave me here in Flint? You know I'll come with you if you want me to.”

I said, “You know I want you to. Look, I'ma need three months to get set up where I'm going.”

He said, “What? Three months? What's that supposed to mean?”

I said, “Trust me. I got it all thought out, you'll be old enough by then to legally leave home. Once I'm settled
in you can come down with me, I swear it and word is bond.”

“Three months, huh?”

“Make sure you save enough of that cash for a bus ticket.”

Sparky said, “Bus ticket nothing, I'm putting five hundred aside to fly outta Bishop. And I'm not flying regular, neither, I'ma get me a seat in coach, baby!”

Mr. Baker said, “This is all very touching, this is like something out of
The Bold and the Beautiful.
If you need me I'll be on the porch smoking.”

Mr. Foster kept going, “Oh dear.”

I said, “Don't worry, Mr. Foster, I'm sure she'll get someone good to take over.”

He said, “Ah, you have more faith in the woman than I do. I keep seeing us being left to the tender mercies of Darnell Dixon and Little Chicago. Oh dear.”

I said, “I don't think so. She knows she's got to keep you happy, she knows she's gotta keep this place running smooth. She may seem coldhearted but she's not stupid.”

Mr. Foster said, “Oh dear.”

I said, “Let me go get Chester X, we've got to get on the road.”

Sparky said, “What's that?”

I said, “I'm taking Chester X with me.”

Sparky said, “What? You're taking him and leaving me? How come that dinosaur gets to go now and I have to wait three months?”

“That's just the way it's gotta be, Sparky. If it wasn't for
him I wouldn't have anywhere to go.
We
wouldn't have anywhere to go.”

He said, “I'ma trust you on this, bruh, but it's looking pretty shaky to me. Are you sure you got my address for that other two G you owe me?”

“When you ever known me to lie?”

I went into the basement.

Chester X was reading the paper. He said, “Flint's latest star, how are you?”

I said, “Mr. X, if we leave now and drive twenty-four straight hours we can be in Port Saint Lucie by this time tomorrow. Otherwise we can take a couple of days, but either way we're outta here in fifteen minutes.”

Chester X sagged like he'd done when I busted him with the pills. He started crying and said, “Oh, thank you, Luther, thank you!”

I said, “Get your Armani and your bathroom stuff together. Leave everything else, we'll shop as we go.”

He said, “Luther, you have no idea how grateful I am.”

I said, “Mr. X, it's as much for me as it is for you.”

Chester X said, “I'm glad you feel that way, 'cause I might've been exaggerating a little about the friendliness of Florida women, I wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

“Oh no, Mr. X, if I don't have four or five honeys within the first week we're turning around and coming right back to Flint.”

He said, “And I'll hate to see you go, but I will wish you a happy return home.”

We each packed one little bag. All I had was my CDs, my new suit, some other clothes, my musings journal, and
my three, hey-hey-hey!, gold medals. I left my magazine collection under the mattress.

Other books

Mackie's Men by Lynn Ray Lewis
Island of the Swans by Ciji Ware
Captive Soul by Anna Windsor
A Bridge Of Magpies by Geoffrey Jenkins
Sad Love by MJ Fields
Polished Off by Dare, Lila
Three Can Keep a Secret by Archer Mayor
The Other Side of the Night by Daniel Allen Butler
Eclipse by Hilary Norman
Am I Normal Yet? by Holly Bourne