One True Friend (5 page)

On a personal note, my parents are very upset about today's events, and my mother might stop working. That means she'll be home with me all day. I don't know if I'm ready for that. What an adjustment!

TOMORROW'S FORECAST, hot and boring like today

My Dear Amir,

I guess you think I'm going crazy. But the only good thing about today was spending time with Charlene and creating this newspaper just for you. You gave me the idea. Oh, by the way, you said that you all moved around a lot to be with your father, but I thought that your dad was away on the road playing music. I guess you guys couldn't go on the road with him, because then you'd miss school, right? And since Ronald was a baby, he couldn't travel, right? Anyway, just being curious—not nosy. Nuisances are nosy.

Your soul friend,

Doris

P.S. Did you finish the drawing of the lake yet? Here's a tip for today. Draw a picture of Ronald like you do for the kids at camp. I bet he'd like that.

July 27th

Dear Doris Williams, Star Reporter,

I received your letter/newspaper today. It made me laugh and think about things, too. You should
definitely be a reporter when you grow up. You asked about my father. Sometimes he had to go on the road and we couldn't go with him. Ronald was just an infant then.

So the playground was featured on the 6 o'clock news! Is the playground that bad? I laughed when I thought about how those sisters must have looked on television. It sounds like you and Charlene are getting to be friends—or nice acquaintances, as you say. Maybe she'll be a "soul friend" one day.

Your letters are like my mom's geraniums—they make a cloudy day bright. I'm trying to be positive. My dad always used to say: "Think positive. Negative thoughts cause negative events." So I remind myself over and over that Ronald is my brother.

You reminded me of something. When I was in the group home, I used to draw pictures of the kids there, and I would make some of the ruffians look so handsome, they were real nice to me. I took your advice and tried the same thing with Ronald.

I drew a picture of the lake and I put him swimming in it, even though he can't swim. He liked it more than I thought he would. While I was drawing him, I was thinking of a way to talk to him about his true family. And his real mother and father. But he was so excited sitting next to me on the bench and watching me draw, and even giving me helpful hints like "Amir, you made the water too
wavy." Or "Amir, you made me too small." Then he stood up and started posing as if he was swimming. He makes me laugh sometimes. I didn't want to see that blank look on his face when I talked about our real parents, so I didn't say anything. I'll wait for the right time.

Anyway, I was going to give you the picture of Ronald swimming in the lake, but he wanted it, so I let him keep it. He's been showing it to his friends like it was a photograph and he was really swimming. Haven't gotten any answers yet from the letters I sent out. Mr. Smith thinks my aunt may have moved to another state. I hope not. I hope she lives in the Bronx or Manhattan—even Brooklyn or Queens would be better than another state.

Answer soon.

Love,

Amir

P.S. I promise—you will get a picture of the lake.

2
P.M.
Friday
July 31st

My Dear Amir,

I hope that you are very fine —just like the sugar.
I wait patiently for my picture. Put me swimming in the lake, too. Be sure and make my arms very long—to answer your question before you ask it, no, I do not know how to swim. I don't blame you for giving Ronald the drawing of himself swimming. Your drawings are like magic to him. You can make him be anything he wants to be.

I've been thinking over what you said in your letter about telling Ronald about his real family. I guess you could say Ronald has his real family—the Smiths and you. Remember I told you about friends—soul friends and acquaintances. Family is like that too. Here's what I've been thinking: There's blood family and chosen family.

Blood family is the people you are related to by blood—all of y'all look alike. Maybe everyone in the family has a square head or something. Like I am tall like my father's side of the family. Chosen family is like soul friends. People who really take care of each other even if they don't have to. The Smiths could send you and Ronald back to foster care if they wanted to. Now, the best thing is if you have blood and chosen family all in one—like me and my mother and father and Gerald (sometimes). But then again, maybe it doesn't even matter.

When you find your aunt, everything will be perfect and Ronald will understand and your blood family and chosen family will be one. That's
One Girl's Opinion.

My mother calmed down and will continue working. To tell the truth, even though Gerald is a pest, I like being the boss of the house and taking care of him until she gets home. My father is threatening to move us. But he's always been talking about buying a house and moving someday. I can't imagine living anywhere else but 163rd Street—I don't think I want to live anywhere else until I grow up.

The block association and some other people in the neighborhood are getting together to "Take the Playground Back." Everyone got all worked up—said the television news programs only come to our neighborhood to report bad things and would never report anything good.

Well, I'm going to change all that. The next issue of my paper will only have good news. I think I would like to be a reporter, but I'll only report the good stuff. I'm working on a new issue of The Bronx News. Guess I missed my deadline. If I don't do better, I'll have to fire myself.

I ran into Charlene again this morning in the library. She's baby-sitting her sister Claudette like I have to baby-sit Gerald. Seems like her sisters have made her the one who always has to baby-sit. We read together while we waited for storytime to finish. As we read, Charlene changed right before my eyes. She lost her sad face and it was like she became a character in the story. Listening to her read was like
watching television almost. She made the story so alive that I stopped noticing that her cornrows needed redoing.

Then Charlene said she had to go to the playground because she didn't want her sisters coming to the library looking for her. "All they think about is double dutch and being in first place in that double-dutch tournament in the fall." I thought to myself how terrible it must be to have bossy, loony sisters bugging you all the time. It makes me appreciate Gerald. At least in his world I'm the boss.

Anyway, me and Charlene have a lot in common. She might even become a soul friend, like you. We're going to meet in the library again tomorrow. Also, she's coming around the block to visit me later on—I'm not allowed to have company when my parents aren't home So we'll just sit on the stoop in front of my building. I know the rumor factory will be working overtime—Doris is hanging out with those drugged-up sisters, Doris is getting wild, Doris is doing ... You know the rest. They better not say it, otherwise I will be going upside some heads—starting with Lavinia and the twins.

Only one month more of summer vacation, and then a whole new world of middle school. I can't wait. It'll be so nice to get away from all of my immature ex-friends.

Well, I guess that's all for now. Gerald just woke
up, and Charlene just rang the downstairs bell. Bye for now.

Love,

Doris

Your one true friend

Amir folded Doris's letter and put it in his pocket. Though he was sitting on the bench in the backyard, he hadn't heard the car coming up the driveway.

Ronald's voice startled him. "Mama and Papa bought you a paint set and two sketchpads."

Alvin Smith slammed the car door and frowned. "Boy, you like a broken refrigerator. Can't hold nothing."

Mrs. Smith shook her head. "Ronald, we wanted to surprise Amir."

"He is surprised. Ain't you surprised, Amir?" He smiled earnestly at his brother.

Amir stood up, looking more confused than surprised. "Thank you," he stammered. "I ... uh ... I ... I really appreciate this."

Mr. Smith handed Amir a large package. "Now you can finish that drawing of me and Mama here, son."

Amir nodded but didn't flinch.

"Alvin, don't worry the boy, telling him what to paint."

"He's going to paint me, right, Amir?" Ronald looked up at him.

"Ronald, you, too. Stop worrying your brother. He'll paint what he wants when he wants," Mrs. Smith said.

"Thank you," Amir repeated, and his eyes opened wide when he pulled up the lid of the large aluminum case. Inside were colored pencils and markers—shades of red, purple, tan, brown—cakes of watercolors, oil pastels, drawing pencils, paintbrushes, a mixing tray, and a pencil sharpener and eraser. He was speechless.

Ronald tugged at Amir's shirtsleeve. "Come on, Amir, paint a picture of me."

"Boy, you think the sun rises and sets on you," Mr. Smith said. "Amir is going to finish the picture of me and your mother." He fingered his mustache."Going to put some color on our faces. Because we are people of color, you know."

Mrs. Smith giggled. "Hush your foolishness.
Now
where is the sun rising and setting? You and Ronald are like two peas in a pod. Leave Amir alone."

Alvin studied Amir for a moment. "Do you really like the paint set?"

"Yes, sir. I do."

Ronald tugged at Amir's sleeve again, "So you going to paint a picture of me now?"

"Okay, okay, I'll paint a picture of you."

Mr. Smith folded his thick arms. "I think me and your mama spoiled you, Ronald."

Grace rubbed Ronald's head. "He's a sweet kid. Not spoiled, just pampered and treasured, the way all children should be."

"That's right, Mama. I'm not spoiled. Come on, Amir, paint my picture." He pulled Amir toward the bench as the Smiths went into the house.

Ronald and Amir sat facing each other, and Amir began sketching out Ronald's round face. He was surprised that Ronald sat so still. He didn't begin to fidget until Amir was almost finished. As his drawing came to life, Amir recognized traces of familiar images in Ronald's face—his nose with gracefully flaring nostrils and his deep dimples. Amir's heart raced, and he put his pencil down. "You tired now?" he asked Ronald.

"No. Let me see how I look."

"When I'm finished. Don't you want to take a break?"

Ronald reached for the sketch. "No. I want to see it."

Bruce, one of Ronald's friends, walked into the yard just then. For the moment the sketch was forgotten as Ronald jumped off the bench and ran over to his friend. Amir was relieved. He went upstairs and took several pieces of paper out of his notebook.

Saturday

August 8th

Dear Doris,

I hope everything is okay. Your last letter made me laugh, but think about things, too. Soul family and chosen family. Maybe that's why I didn't get annoyed when Mr. Smith called me "son" just now. I hardly noticed it. Part of it could've been because the Smiths bought me a fantastic paint set and new sketchpads today, and I was so surprised, I could hardly say thank you. I was touched and shocked. Almost speechless. I hope they don't think I'm ungrateful. No foster parents have ever done such a nice thing for me.

I've always dreamed about having a set like this. Then when Mr. Smith started talking about finishing the picture of them—the one they think is them—it didn't make me angry like before; maybe a little annoyed. 1 keep reminding myself that he's only trying to be nice. I'll surprise them with a drawing of themselves.

Ronald was as excited as if the gift had been for him. Some kids would've been jealous. When I think about it, he's like that, even with his friends. He shares whatever he has. I guess the Smiths taught him that. My parents taught us the same thing. As I drew Ronald, I began to see how much he looks like our mother and father all wrapped up in one little boy. I had to take a break.

Doris, you will have to fire yourself if you don't get your paper out on time. I think it's nice that you and Charlene are hanging out. It's hard enough being different from your friends; it's even harder when you're different from your own brothers and sisters. Seems to me that you and Charlene are more alike than Charlene and her own sisters.

What about everyone else? Yellow Bird, Big Russell, Lavinia, and the twins? Guess you guys still haven't made up? One day the twins will realize that you're a good friend. About those drug rumors—I wouldn't even listen to them.

Oh, by the way, I still haven't heard from anyone answering the letters. Only one came back; it said "addressee unknown."

I guess that's all for now. Ronald is downstairs calling for me to finish his drawing. Now I can make you a beautiful painting of the lake, too.

Love,

Amir

P.S. Only three weeks left of day camp. I was nominated for the best counselor award. Imagine that!

As Amir finished his letter, Ronald burst into the room.

"You finished the painting yet?"

"No."

"Well, can you finish it now?"

"Okay."

"Let's go outside."

"Why? I can finish here."

"I like it outside. Let's sit on the bench like we was doing."

Amir glanced out the window. The light was changing, and the beginnings of an orange-reddish tinge slowly colored the sky."Okay, we'll go outside."

Beaming, Ronald dashed down the stairs and was out the door by the time Amir reached the kitchen.

Amir colored in Ronald's face using a bronze-tone pencil—his coloring, too, was exactly like their mother's. Amir tried once again to say something about her and their father, but the words didn't sound right in his head and couldn't reach his tongue. Ronald sat next to him like the perfect model with a huge smile on his face.

Amir chuckled. "Ronald, you're going to hurt your face if you keep smiling like that."

When Amir finished, the sun was about to set. Ronald ran to Mr. and Mrs. Smith with the drawing.

Mr. Smith turned to Amir. "You are truly talented, son," he said.