One True Friend (10 page)

Amir was worn out. He put the letter in the same envelope with the letter he'd written earlier that day. He wanted to go to sleep like Ronald and not think about things anymore.

He heard a soft knock on the door before Alvin opened it. "Come downstairs for a moment, son. We have to talk to you," Alvin whispered. Ronald stirred in his sleep.

Amir felt as though someone had placed a pile of rocks on his slender shoulders as he followed Alvin to the living room.

Grace's gentle brown eyes were rimmed in red. Though she put on her glasses when Amir sat next to her on the couch, he could tell she'd been crying.

Alvin cleared his throat. "Amir, this is hard. Your aunt and uncle told us that you'll be going to live with them."

Amir stared directly at Alvin and shook his head. "I didn't tell her anything yet. I mean ... I guess I will."

Grace tried to steady her voice. "We ... we understand if you want to go with your aunt. We
would love for you to stay with us and would adopt you, adopt—"

Alvin finished for her. "We would adopt you also, Amir. The choice is yours." He cleared his throat. "But Ronald has to stay with us. Because your aunt requested a hearing about his case, we can't go on with the adoption proceedings." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. "We want you to know that we will fight to keep Ronald. We are not trying to split up your family, but we raised Ronald since he was a toddler." He paused and stared at Amir. "Do you understand, son?"

Amir nodded and lowered his eyes. "Yes," he barely whispered. The weight felt heavier—he just wanted to go to sleep.
Buck up, you guys.
His father's words didn't help this time.

"Amir, Ronald is our son. He could see his brothers and sisters often. Call them every day if he wants to. But we can't just give him up like that. What would it do to him?"

Ronald suddenly burst into the room. "I don't want to go away," he cried. "Please don't send me away. Please, Papa!" He jumped into Grace's lap, and she rocked him.

Alvin said, "Come on, Ronald, you too big for all that. Nobody's going to send you away." His voice cracked. He rubbed his mustache and tried to make a joke. "Every shut eye ain't asleep."

Ronald slid off Grace's lap and sat between her and Amir. His button eyes filled with tears as he turned to Amir and grabbed his arm. "I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here, too."

Amir's throat tightened. He couldn't speak, but he put his arm around Ronald's shoulders.

4
P.M.
Thursday
September 17th

My Dear Amir,

I thought you'd be jumping up and down for joy about finally being with all your sisters and brothers. I know what I said before about someone getting hurt. But why does it always have to be like that? There's got to be a way to fix things and make them perfect for everyone involved.

Now, I reread one of your letters, and you said that your mother told you not to lose your brothers and sisters. Well, you haven't lost them, because you know where they are. She didn't say everyone had to live together, did she?

Anyway, I felt so bad for you when I read your letter. Ronald will be tripping if they take him away from the Smiths. Your aunt and uncle put you in the middle of everything. Well, here are some words that I hope will help you.

People do not have to live in the same house, or on the same street, in the same state, or in the same country in order to be close to one another. Sometimes people see each other every day and can't stand one another anyhow.

It doesn't matter who lives where or who lives with who. Everyone can't be in the same place all at once. But hearts can remember and love all of the time.

Amir, I hope by now you have decided what you are going to do. I know you didn't ask for my advice or my opinion, but I've been thinking about your situation and here's a little tip:

Go with your aunt and uncle. It makes sense. Suppose the court sends Ronald to live there. The best place for him to be is wherever
you
are, because you are Ronald's memory. You understand his old life with the Smiths, and you can help him with his new life with his real family. Ronald is old enough to write letters. He can write the Smiths and that way never lose touch with them. He might be upset at first, but he'll get used to it. I hope this is helpful.

I didn't create a new issue of The Bronx News yet, because, like I said, I'm only telling good news. For a time last week there was nothing good to report; as a matter of fact, it was turning into the worst week of my life.

As you know, at first when I found out about Charlene, I decided to end our friendship. Let her run
wild with her sisters or whoever. She stopped meeting me in the library and coming around the block after she told me what she was doing. I decided not to say anything to anybody, because I'm no snitch.

On Monday Gerald made a serious effort to drive me crazy, so I took him to the library. You will not believe who was already there—all of Charlene's sisters. They couldn't find Charlene and thought that she was with me. "You got our sister all messed up," one of the older sisters says. "Trying to be a cool little twerp like you," says she.

"How come you don't know where your own sister is?" says I.

"Don't get smart with me," says she, and so on. You get my drift. Then another sister says, "She ain't been acting right since y'all become buddies."

I felt like I was hit with a bolt of lightning. They really didn't know what Charlene was doing. She wasn't following behind them but doing her own stupid thing.

So, Amir, I took your advice. I found some words to help Charlene. I told. I could barely say it out loud. "Your sister's been smoking pot." I felt rotten, and all I could hear was Charlene's sisters screeching in my ears like 100 sirens tearing down Third Avenue.

"You a liar."

"You the one been spreading those rumors."

"We told Charlene she was stupid to be friends with you."

"You no different from them other girls."

"Why don't you listen? Your sister needs help," I said.

The oldest sister shut the other ones up. "Charlene been acting strange. Sometimes she'd be like the sister she was supposed to be, and other times she'd act like she wanted no part of us around her."

"You going to tell your mother?" I asked.

"Have to."

"What will she do?"

"Kill her."

Amir, you can imagine how I felt, but things got even worse, and I began to wish that I'd minded my own business. Charlene and I had promised to keep each other's secrets. Now hers were all over the Bronx because of me. The rumor factory got to working overtime. People said that I caused Charlene to be sent to a home for juvenile delinquents.

Even my mother heard. Nosy Nichols told her that I'd gotten Charlene in trouble. I told her the whole story even though I didn't want to. I was afraid I'd be under punishment until I was fifty years old if I didn't.

My mother surprised me, though. She didn't rant and rave. All she asked was "You didn't try it, did you?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me. Kids try things. But I don't want you to lie to me about it."

"Ma, the truth, the God's honest truth, I didn't." My mother always knows when I'm lying anyhow. Says she can see the word
LIAR
flashing in each eyeball like a neon sign when I'm not telling the truth. So she let up. But she wouldn't let go. She decided to talk to Charlene's mother herself.

I begged her not to. "You don't even know her that well."

"I'll get to know her now. If it was you, Doris, I'd want her to tell me. We have to protect all of you kids I'm talking to Charlene's mother in case those sisters forget to tell her what's going on."

I understand what the word "humiliated" means now. So much more than embarrassed. I was mortified, humiliated, ashamed. No one spoke to me—only Yellow Bird, who told me that people were saying that I was a snitch and that my mother was a busybody.

I learned a new word:
PARIAH

Last year my teacher tried to teach us that word, but it wasn't interesting to me, so I ignored her. But now I know the word. It's me. Here's an old corny joke: From now on, when they define the word "pariah" in the dictionary, my picture will be next to it. Outcast, outsider, hated person. Everyone is angry with me—even Lavinia and the twins, who don't like Charlene.

And to top it all off, my father was looking in the phone book for the number of some man in Manhattan and found that a page was torn out. He's been mumbling and grousing about it ever since.

Well, Amir, I'm going to end this letter. My mother is taking me to the store to buy some extra school supplies. School started last week. But this is not the end of my story. Some surprising things happened at the Sunday school picnic. Will tell you all about it the next time I write.

I hope you are not feeling too sad and that everything will turn out perfect for you and your family.

Gotta go now.

Love,

Doris

Amir folded Doris's letter neatly and put it back in his jacket pocket. He'd read it for the second time. Her words echoed in his head, and whether she knew it or not, they were helping him decide what to do. It was strange, he thought, that he'd received her letter the very morning he and Ronald and the Smiths had left the house to come here to the family court hearing.

All during the car ride he'd thought about what he'd say. He'd tried to block out Ronald's incessant questions: "Will the judge put me in jail?" "Will he send me away?" "Is Amir talking to the judge, too?" "When will my brothers and sisters be back?" "Are they talking to the judge? " "Will they be there?"

Grace and Alvin had reassured Ronald. "Don't worry." "Everything is okay." "You're not going to jail, silly."

Now he and Amir were sitting in the family court waiting room. Amir glanced at the large oak doors leading to the judge's chambers. He wondered what was going on. Was Uncle Zachary nervously wiping his sweaty forehead? Was Aunt Gloria angry? Was Miss Grace crying and Mister Alvin demanding something?

Ronald had already made a friend. He and another boy his age were looking through a sports magazine for kids. Amir wished he had his sketchpad
so he could draw the other children and people sitting around the waiting room.

The door to the judge's chambers opened, and his aunt and uncle and the Smiths walked out. All their faces looked like stone. Amir could hardly bear to meet their gaze. For a moment he would have liked to crawl under one of the coffee tables in the room and hide. He thought about his parents. Why did you guys leave me in all this confusion?

The guard motioned for Amir to enter the judge's chambers. As he crossed the room, his aunt stared at him, making him feel guilty. "Think about your dear mother and what she wanted," she said sharply.

Grace looked as if she'd been crying, but he wasn't sure. It seemed as though she was always crying since his aunt's visit.

Mister Alvin cut his eyes at Aunt Gloria and then smiled at Amir. "It's going to be all right, son. Whatever you decide is okay."

Grace nodded. "We'll be fine. We're all still on the same planet." She tried to smile.

Amir entered a large room with books lining the wall. The guard motioned for him to sit before the judge, who was looking over some papers. Amir's heart beat fast, and his hands felt clammy. He tried to calm himself by remembering what his father used to tell him:
When
you help someone else, you help yourself, too.
He remembered Doris's words as well:
You are Ronald's memory.

The judge finally looked up and smiled at Amir. "How are you? Amir? Amir Daniels?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's right. I'm fine." He calmed down a little because something about the judge's round face and smooth tan complexion reminded him of Miss Grace.

"I'm Judge Michaels. Do you know why you're here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Relax now. I'm not going to hurt you. We just want to do what's best for you and your brothers and sisters. Have you been happy and comfortable living with the Smiths?"

"Yes. They're very nice foster parents."

"I see here you lived with your aunt for a short time, and then you moved?"

"Yes."

"Were you happy with your aunt?"

"I was upset about my parents."

"So you didn't leave because of your aunt and uncle?"

"No, ma'am. They took good care of me."

"I understand. What about your brother Ronald. You and he getting along?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he's happy living with the Smiths?"

"He loves them. He thinks they're his parents."

The judge paused and gave Amir a long look. "What do you want to do? Your aunt is requesting that you and Ronald live with her and the other children. She and your uncle are prepared to care for all of you. Now, tell me: Where do you want to live?"

Amir licked his dry lips. "Wherever Ronald lives."

The judge looked at him over her glasses. "You mean that you don't want to live with the Smiths?"

"I like living with them. They're real good parents."

"I'm trying to understand, you don't want to live with your aunt?"

"I want to live with Ronald. Wherever he has to live."

"Son, you're not really telling me anything. Your aunt wants you, and the court prefers to keep children in a family together if at all possible. So I wish you'd give me an answer."

"I'm Ronald's memory, ma'am, so I have to stay with him. Wherever he goes, I'll go along with him."

"You don't care where you live?"

"I do care, but I'm used to living in different places. But Ronald only knows about living with the Smiths."

"Are you saying that Ronald shouldn't go with your aunt so that all of you children can be together? Do you think that he should stay with the Smiths?"

"Yes."

"So you want to live with the Smiths, too?"

Amir hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yes, ma'am."

Wednesday evening
September 23rd

Dear Doris,

Please don't feel like you did the wrong thing by helping Charlene. I think it's good you told her sisters. Don't worry about what people say. You know the truth, and you didn't get her in trouble—you probably kept her out of bigger trouble. Maybe her mother is making her stay in the house and that's why you don't see her. People tell lies. I don't think she's in a home for bad kids. You did the right thing.

Things have not been so great around here either. I mean Miss Grace and Mister Alvin are still kind to me—that never changes no matter what, but everything feels sad.

Mister Alvin isn't noisy and cracking jokes, and Miss Grace isn't baking as much as she used to—only when she has to for a customer. We didn't go to the lake or barbecue for Labor Day because it rained.

Even Ronald is tripping. Whining all the time and complaining that he doesn't want to go to school. A third-grade dropout. Maybe he's afraid that he'll come
home from school and everyone will be gone. He told me he wants me to stay with him. Can you believe that?

We had the hearing today and I spoke to the judge. Even though I didn't follow your advice, your letter helped me more than you know. I was feeling like I was split in two. All I could do was think about this situation until it made me crazy—going backward and forward in my mind. But your words and Ronald begging me to stay helped me to make a decision.

I told the judge I wanted to stay with Miss Grace and Mister Alvin, because I felt that if I said I wanted to go with my aunt and uncle, then the judge would make Ronald go with them, too. Now we're waiting to hear what the judge decides.

I haven't told this to anyone else yet. Doris, I want to make everyone happy, but I can't. There's no perfect solution. Mostly, I worry about Ronald and the Smiths. I'm used to being sad, but Ronald isn't. I'm seeing that Mister Alvin and Miss Grace really are his mom and dad. If the judge sends Ronald with my aunt, then I'll ask to go with him. On the other hand, though, if he goes with my aunt, we'll be living in the city again! All of us together. Brooklyn is not perfect, but it's closer to the Bronx than Syracuse is. But I'd still feel sorry for Mister Alvin and Miss Grace.

School started up here, too, but I haven't been
thinking about school or anything else. I'll let you know what happens.

Doris, I haven't forgotten about the drawing of the lake. Trust me, you'll get it.

Love,

Amir