Transcontinental (42 page)

“OH my gosh, I have to tell you this story. So Ebony—that’s my friend, the one I was with when we met—she liked Germain for like, a day or two. I have
no
idea what she saw in him, but she saw it. So like, they hung out, and turns out he totally sucks and smells bad, so she bailed and didn’t talk to him anymore. Then, like, a day later, Germain slipped her a note saying, like, can we hang out again? You’re really nice. Can you believe that??”

“Wow,” he said, despite being unable to discern the offense.

“I
know
! Like, she wasn’t even nice to him in the first place, and then he has the
nerve
to
write
her a
note
! Like, where does he get off, y’know?”

“Uh-huh.” He kept his eyes glued to the screen. He remembered this episode—the nephews tricked Scrooge into thinking it was the weekend when it wasn’t, so he would give them their allowance early to buy a scooter, causing worldwide confusion. It was one of his favorites.

“So now— you know your friend Rashaun?”

“What about him?”

“Ebony kinda likes him.”

“Have they even met?”

“No, but that’s what I wanna talk to you about. Do you think you could set up a meeting between them, maybe? She really likes him.”

“Why doesn’t she just talk to him?”

“That’s
his
job! Duh!”

“But how’s he supposed to know she likes him?”

“That’s why I’m asking you! You really are clueless, huh?”

Leroy turned back to the TV. He didn’t care if Jemisha didn’t like him, he’d still rather hang out with her than with Jill. This was not fun. She even managed to make DuckTales unenjoyable.

Jill scooted closer and casually leaned on Leroy. “So, talk to him?”

Her skin was so warm and soft it gave him goosebumps. He repressed a shudder of delight and in an instant, his mood shifted.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Cool.” She snuggled into him more, and he turned his body the slightest bit to let her get closer, but it still surprised him when she did. No reason not to take advantage of the situation, he figured.

“So,” he said, inching his arm over hers, “you like this show?”

“Oh, I just put in the top video. Nothing good to watch here.”

He was just getting comfortable when she abruptly pulled away and sat up straight. He looked at her, wondering what he’d done.

“Oh my gosh, in laundry, where I work, you won’t believe what happened.” Jill covered her mouth. “Ew, it’s so gross I can barely talk about it.”

She was always talking about gross stuff, Leroy noticed.

“Somebody
pooped
in the sheets!”

Leroy winced. “Well, people have accidents sometimes, I guess…”

“No, this was no accident. Like, somebody spread a clean sheet, and pooped into it. Ew! Just stop talking about it, please. I can’t take it.”

Before he could reply, she leaned back into him, and it ceased to matter.

“You never talk,” she frowned. “I’m the only one who talks.”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“I dunno. You pick.”

“Well,” he took a breath, “I came here from California.”

“Hm.” She turned toward the TV.

“I rode on trains, hitchhiked, walked. I left because my mom died.” For a moment as he said it, he felt as if he was missing something, as if one of his fingers had disappeared, and then it faded away.

“That’s cool,” she muttered, looking around. “Hey.”

He turned and found her face inches from his, then she moved in and planted a kiss right on his lips. Leroy froze, burning with anxiety and buzzing with excitement. He was glad her eyes were closed; he wouldn’t want anyone to see the face he probably made. He’d never kissed before, so he puckered his lips until she pulled away a moment later.

“Isn’t that the boy’s job, too?” he asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, but you would’ve never done it.”

She nestled back onto his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Oh my gosh!” she started as her eyes shot back open.

* * *

Leroy opened the door for Jill as they exited SpiritWood’s main building. She hugged his arm as they crossed the yard to the girls’ dorm.

“Thanks for walking me back. You never know what or who you might come across out here,” she said with a giggle. “I might need protection.”

“I’d probably wuss out,” Leroy admitted with a weak smile as they stopped at the front door. “Unless you got threatened by a rabbit.”

“Oh. Huh. Well thanks for hanging out with me.” She embraced him until he had to squeeze back, then she pulled away and kissed him briefly. “Oh, look,” she said, pointing past him with a smirk.

He spun around, and the feeling drained from his body. Jemisha stared at him, her big eyes full of tears, from the window of a departing SpiritWood van.

Leroy watched, lost in a stupor, then he dashed after the van.

“Oh, please,” Jill muttered, rolling her eyes as she opened the dorm door.

Leroy stomped to a stop at the edge of the forest as the van made a turn and easily pulled away from him. He huddled over, bracing himself on his knees and catching his breath. He needed answers.

* * *

Leroy barged into Atasha’s office in the girls’ dorm.

She glanced up from the papers in her hands and, in an exasperated tone, said “Is there something I can do for you, Marcus?”

“Where’re they taking Jemisha?”

“I was not informed. Now unless you have another issue—”

“What about the Bishop? He’ll know.”

“Yes, he would know.”

“Ask him,” Leroy demanded, then added a tender “please.”

“The Bishop and Pastor Mercer both left with Jemisha, so as much as I hate to turn down such a polite request, I have no choice.”

Leroy raked his fingertips down his scalp and cheeks in frustration. “What am I supposed to do, then? I messed up.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. What I do know is that Jemisha was no good, and a nice boy like you shouldn’t be wasting time on a girl like her. What about Jill? I saw you two watching television. She seems nice.”

* * *

Back at the same table in the library, with Brooks looking on fondly, Leroy stared through his skeletal sketch of the Jacaranda tree. That was exactly how he felt—like a tree with no leaves. Worse, he couldn’t concentrate. Jemisha’s face stained his thoughts, and her hopeless expression crushed him with guilt.

He felt as if a gong was ringing inside his head and his chest. She would come back at some point, right? He needed to finish the drawing for when she did. After all, she would be upset when she returned. He cursed himself for hanging out with Jill, but as guilty as he felt, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his first kiss. It should’ve been with Jemisha, but in any case, it happened. He just had to work on moving forward.

Gritting his teeth, Leroy tried to clear his mind, but the fog remained. If he couldn’t concentrate enough to focus on the big picture, maybe he could work on the thoughtless details. He put the pencil to the paper and began to add the tree’s fern-like leaves to the lower branches. With each little triangle his storm of emotions settled, until his mind was clear and he was calm. Some time later, he pulled back to look at the drawing, and found it coming along nicely. The tiny leaves of the tree gave the piece rich detail.

He lowered his head and sketched the Jacaranda’s flowers—little bells that flared out at the bottom and bunched at the tips of the outer branches—experimenting with layering, shading, and texture. To the best of his memory, he recreated the bouquet Jemisha had presented him that special afternoon.

The next thing he knew, Brooks was tapping him on the shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or just zoned out, but he glanced down at the picture and realized he hadn’t been working for some time. Even in its unfinished state, it was impressive, at least to him.

“Time to close up shop, kid. Out we go.” Brooks noticed the picture. “You got a good eye. Keep that paper. Finish the tree, draw some others. Maybe draw
me
something nice.” Brooks winked as he led Leroy toward the door.

The rest of the evening was grueling. He couldn’t stay awake through bible study, which got him an earful, and later, he couldn’t sit still in bed. His thoughts see-sawed endlessly between Jemisha and the unfinished drawing for her, burning a hole through the top bunk. He hoped he could work on it at breakfast. He hoped he could finish it before she got back. It was all he could do.

* * *

To his surprise, he woke with that same hope buoying him, ready to spend every free moment he could find finishing the drawing. He laid in the dark a while, then Carl entered and started the morning routine. Leroy stood and stretched until every shred of the urge to go back to bed was eradicated, and most of the boys had left the room. Then, he reached onto the top bunk for his papers and pencil, but felt nothing.

A cold chill hit him. They couldn’t be gone. Who could’ve, or would’ve, taken them? He stepped onto his mattress and peered over the top bunk, but all he could see was the neutral gray tone of the sheets, as foreign as the surface of the moon in his confusion.

“Hey Carl.”

The man approached. “Something wrong?”

“You know what happened to my drawing? It was on the top bunk.”

“Check under the bed? The fan might’ve blown it off.”

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. His cheeks hot, Leroy silently knelt and looked beneath the bed, but the floor was bare.

“Not there.” He stood. “Besides,” Leroy realized, “a fan couldn’t blow away a pencil.” He was starting to get upset. “Someone did this.”

“Look, I’m sorry it’s gone, but to be fair you’re not supposed to have that in the first place. If I had known, I’d have had to take it, anyway.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I can’t have a drawing?”

“Well, you can
have
a drawing, but you shouldn’t
be
drawing. The Bishop believes that creativity doesn’t serve God; it serves only the ego.”

Leroy was left speechless.

“Listen, you doing alright? I know you’ve been through a lot recently.”

“Don’t worry about me.”
 

“Just know that if you need anything, we’re all here for you.”

Leroy knew what he had to do. He shut up and followed Carl and the rest of the kids as they marched out of the dorm and across the yard to the main building. As the rest of the kids entered, he ducked off to the side and let the door close. He waited a minute, to let the atrium clear out, then went inside and, hands jammed in his pockets, traversed the room.

Hallways branched off in every direction as he walked, trying to remember which way led to the Bishop’s office. He had to turn back a few times, but eventually he made it to the carved door with the Bishop’s initials in the middle. Creativity didn’t serve God, unless it looked cool to the Bishop, he supposed.

He was about to knock on the door when he realized what he was doing; he’d split away from the group and run off to confront the leader of the organization he’d only recently joined. Leroy thought back to the person he’d been just a few short weeks ago, and was proud of the person he was becoming.

Instead of knocking, he barged right inside.

Pastor Mercer sat at the desk, fingers steepled and gaze hardened. Standing beside him, Bishop Wood covered up his surprised expression with a smile, and started toward Leroy. “Thanks for joining us. We were just speaking about you. You’re making great progress, you know.”

“Somebody stole my drawing.”

The Bishop furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I was working on a drawing. I put it on my top bunk before I went to sleep, then it was gone by the time I woke up. I want it back.”

“Marcus, I’m very sorry to hear that, but to be fair, drawing, and art in general, isn’t an approved activity. Creativity serves only the ego. Not God.”

“Where’s Jemisha?”

The Bishop cleared his throat. “She has been transferred to our sister facility. We thought her a better fit under their methods of care.”

It sent Leroy reeling. “What’s that even mean? She’s not coming back?”

“She is not… no.”

“Can I visit her?”

“No, you may not.”

It wasn’t fair. All his notions of making things right with her vanished in an instant. He’d never see her again. He clenched his fists.

“You can’t do this!”

“WE CAN DO,” boomed Pastor Mercer, his voice ringing off the walls, “anything we like. Those who choose to take refuge in the church of SpiritWood are immutably under our authority. Who are
you
to deny that authority?”

The courage zapped right out of him, Leroy stood, speechless.

“
Further
, although Jemisha Winters was a problem since day one,
you
are the reason she was exiled. We could deal with, perhaps even cure her snottiness, insubordination, lack of work ethic, but we cannot permit a romantic relationship between two youths. The Lord forbids it, and thus, so do we.”