by S. E. Smith
“I’ve asked the School Resource Officer to join us,” Mr. Davis explained as he walked around to the head of the table. “He is in the process of finishing a report of the incident.”
“What incident?” Henry asked.
“Makayla, would you like to share with your grandfather what happened at lunch today?” Mr. Davis asked, leaning back in his chair.
Makayla shrugged. She had already told the SRO what happened. The fact that the fight happened in front of two hundred plus witnesses during lunch hadn’t hurt her case either.
“I was in a fight,” she said, wincing when the act of talking pulled on her busted lip. “They started it. I finished it. End of story.”
“That doesn’t look like the whole story to me,” Henry retorted, noticing the bruise forming on her cheek.
They all turned and glanced at the door when it opened and closed again. A man in a green uniform walked toward the table. Deputy Myers nodded to Mr. Davis before he pulled a chair back and sat down. He calmly stacked a series of papers in front of him.
“This is Makayla’s grandfather,” Mr. Davis said, glancing at Henry.
“Henry Summerlin,” Henry introduced himself with a brief nod. “What happened?”
Deputy Myers looked at Makayla. “From what I could find out, three students have been harassing Makayla for the last several weeks. Today, they approached her during lunch. When Makayla tried to walk away, two of the girls grabbed her and the third struck her.”
“Three? Several weeks?” Henry turned a dark frown to Makayla. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were being bullied?”
Makayla shrugged. “I was handling it,” she muttered.
“From what one of the girls said, this wasn’t the first physical encounter you had with them, was it, Makayla?” Deputy Myers asked.
A muffled curse escaped Henry when Makayla shrugged again. What did it matter? She wasn’t coming back after today. Besides, she hadn’t been lying when she said the other girls were in worse shape.
“No, but I handled it,” she said, looking up to stare at each of the men looking at her. “It’s over.”
“What’s going to happen next?” Henry demanded, folding his hands together on the table and leaning forward.
“The girls will be suspended from school for ten days,” Mr. Davis assured Henry, glancing at Deputy Myers. “This is a serious matter. We have a zero tolerance for bullying. They are also facing charges of assault and battery. Additional measures will be brought before the school board and there will be some legal ramifications that their parents will have to deal with.” He paused and looked at Makayla. “Makayla was asked if she needed medical attention, but she repeatedly refused it. If you feel the need to take her to see the doctor or to the hospital for her injuries, please let us know as this will also be noted in the report.”
“I don’t need to see a doctor,” Makayla muttered. “I just want to go home.”
Henry glanced at Makayla’s mutinous face. “I’ll let you know if she needs to see a doctor,” he said, rising to his feet. “I don’t want those girls near my granddaughter again.”
“They won’t be,” Mr. Davis assured him, standing as well. “Next time anyone tries to bully or threaten you, Makayla, make sure that you tell a teacher or another staff member.”
Makayla nodded before she bent and picked up her backpack. She started to protest when Henry took it from her before clamping her bruised lips together. The look on his face warned her that he wanted to know more of the story.
“Thank you,” Henry said politely as Mr. Davis escorted them out of the office.
“I hope you have a better weekend, Makayla,” Mr. Davis said with a sympathetic smile.
Makayla didn’t answer. Instead, she kept her head down as she followed Henry out of the building. She could feel the eyes of the students, parents, and staff staring at her as she walked past them.
No, I won’t be coming back here, she thought as she stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight.
*.*.*
Tyrell cursed under his breath when he saw Makayla walking across the parking lot with an older man. Guilt ate at him as he watched her bow her head. He had been outside during lunch when those girls had jumped her. Granted, he had been on the other side of the courtyard, closer to the gym entrance, but he had been there and hadn’t done anything.
He wanted to apologize. He wanted to explain that if he had tried to help, it could have turned out really bad for him. After all, school officials and the media wouldn’t see him as a concerned person trying to help. No, they would see him as a big black guy attacking three white girls. They would either forget the fact that those same three girls were beating the crap out of another girl, or ignore it. In that brief moment of indecision, he had seen all his dreams, all his carefully laid plans flying out the window and he had hesitated.
He stood on the other side of the gate watching as the old blue pickup slowly pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced down at the book in his hand. It was the book Makayla had been reading the other day in the gym. He opened it, noticing the address inside. It wasn’t too far from where he lived. He could ride his bike over there tomorrow and return it.”
His head jerked up when the bell rang. Turning, he tucked the book in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He had two more classes to get through before the weekend.
*.*.*
Later that evening, Tyrell turned his bike onto his street. He had stayed at the library a little longer than he planned and didn’t realize how late it had gotten until the announcement that it would be closing soon. He pedaled hard, not wanting to be out at this time of the night, especially on a Friday.
He swerved over the curb and up onto the sidewalk, sliding to a stop in front of the gate that lead up to the front door of his grandmother’s house. Leaning to the side, he threw his leg over the back of the bike and pushed open the gate. He could barely squeeze through the narrow opening with his bike.
Tyrell grinned when he saw the door open and his grandma’s stern figure standing in the doorway. She always worried when he forgot the time and stayed out too late. He wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t going to make the same mistake the other men in his family had.
“Hey, grandma,” he said with an easy smile. “Sorry I’m late. I was finishing up a report.”
“You’ve got a cell phone,” she pointed out. “You need to remember to call.”
Tyrell shook his head. “They make you turn it off in the library,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I’ll do better next time.”
“You say that every time,” Charlotte teased.
Tyrell had just reached the tiny front porch area when he heard the sound of car tires squealing against the pavement and the loud sound of an engine. Turning, he caught the figure of a man in his late teens, early twenties, leaning out of the passenger side window, a gun in his hand. He reacted without thinking, throwing his bike down and catching his grandmother around the waist just as a volley of gunfire rang out. He twisted as they fell, trying to keep his body between the gunfire and his grandmother while also trying to prevent her from hitting the floor too hard. Pieces of wood and the sound of shattering glass exploded around them as the car sped past.
Tyrell’s hands frantically ran over his grandmother’s face as he leaned back to make sure that she was alright. A choked cry escaped him when he ran his hand down her arm and felt a sticky warmth against his fingers. Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure it was safe before he rolled onto his side and scooted back against the back of the couch, dragging his grandmother with him. Once they were far enough inside, he used his foot to slam the bullet pocked door shut. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of sirens.
“Grandma?” Tyrell choked out, sliding to his knees so he could see how badly she was hurt. “Where are you hurt?”
Charlotte blinked up at Tyrell, fear darkening her eyes as tears slipped down the side of her face. She lifted a trembling hand to hi
s face and shook her head. She nodded for him to help her sit up.
“I… I think it’s just my arm,” she whispered in a shaking voice.
Tyrell turned when he heard the sound of yelling outside. He started to rise, but Charlotte held him by his forearm in a surprisingly strong grip for a woman of her age. She shook her head at him.
“Let me open the door,” she warned. “They see you, with blood on your hands, and they’ll start shooting. Help me up,” she ordered. “You go sit in the kitchen. Don’t you move from the chair unless it is the police telling you to. If they tell you to get down, you get down.”
“But, I didn’t do nothing,” Tyrell started to argue before he clamped his lips shut.
He knew his grandmother was right. Despite what the civil rights movement might have done for America, there was still fear. It was getting better, but there were still issues with the system. Everyone would be running on adrenaline and fear. He carefully helped his grandmother stand up.
“Go on,” she ordered in a hoarse voice. “Go to the kitchen.”
Tyrell glanced at the door and the window. Through the thin curtains, he could see more police cars pulling up. Dozens of officers with their guns drawn were spreading out across the yard. Turning on his heel, he went into the kitchen and waited like his grandmother told him to do. A part of him was terrified, while another part knew that tonight could very well be the end of his dreams of getting out of here if he wasn’t careful.
Chapter 17
“No!” Henry growled, glaring at Makayla’s stubborn, bruised face. “You are not quitting. We’ll put you in another school.”
“No way, old man, I’m not going back, period,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. “Either I go back to Tampa or I drop out.”
“You can’t go back yet,” Henry snapped, running his hand through his hair. “Your mom isn’t ready. She needs more time.”
Makayla scowled at her grandfather. “You think I don’t know that?” She asked in a bitter voice. “When did you two start talking and agreeing with each other?”
Makayla was very much aware that her mom needed more time. Her conversation with her mom last night had been strained at best. Teresa had begged Makayla to try to understand, to try to be patient, to please give her a little more time. Makayla had finally lashed out at her mom, telling her that she had been more than patient! She was supposed to be the child, not her mom. Her mom was just being selfish and a rotten parent.
It was the first time that Makayla had ever talked to her mom that way. A part of her was horrified and yet another part just didn’t care anymore. She was tired of always trying to make their family work. She wanted…
Makayla turned her back to Henry and looked out the window. Breaker was out back barking at the squirrels running back and forth along the fence teasing him. She felt a little like the Akita right now, helpless and frustrated. In truth, she didn’t know what she wanted. She only knew she wanted to start running and never stop.
“You can’t be selfish now, Makayla,” Henry said. “This is your mom’s time.”
“It’s been her time since I was six,” Makayla retorted in a low voice filled with bitterness.
Her shoulders stiffened as a wave of hurt and denial swept through her. She knew her eyes reflected her anger. She had talked to Laura last night. She was going to go live with her and her mom for a little while, until she could get on her feet. She’d sleep on the couch. Laura said Tisha had quit her job at the Smoothie store, and she was pretty sure that she could get Makayla on, but she needed to be there within the next week, otherwise she couldn’t promise anything.
“Will you or won’t you take me back to Tampa?” Makayla asked in a husky voice, not turning around.
The silence in the room filled until she thought it would explode. She finally turned and stared at Henry, unaware of the hurt and betrayal reflected in her eyes. She swallowed when she saw the expression of resignation on his face.
“No, I won’t,” he said with a sigh. “And I won’t let you quit school. You can do this, Makayla. Just a few more months, that’s all I ask.”
Makayla shifted her eyes away from his. With a slight shake of her head, she walked past him out of the room. She glanced out the front window as she walked through the dining room. It was a beautiful morning outside.
Just made for running, she thought as she turned and gripped the staircase banister.
*.*.*
Makayla watched an hour later as Henry drove off. He had knocked on her bedroom door and asked if she wanted to go with him over to the marina. Jason has put his boat in dry dock and they were starting on it today. She hadn’t bothered to answer him. He finally told her that he was taking Breaker with him and that they would be back around four in the afternoon.
She slid off the bed when she heard the front door open and close. A strange sense of calm had crept over her. Swallowing, she turned and finished packing her clothes. It would only take a couple of trips to get everything that she would need.
She glanced down at the neatly penned note that she had written, she picked it up and re-read it. Her eyes scanned the words. It was short, just like the notes Henry tended to leave.
Going home. ~ Makayla
Picking up her backpack, now filled with clothes instead of books, she gripped the note in her hand as she hurried down the staircase. She walked into the kitchen and set the note on the counter before grabbing a few grocery bags and filling them with additional cans of food.
She quickly shut the pantry door and headed back through the dining room to the front door. She pulled it open, stopping when she saw Tyrell on the other side, his hand raised to knock on the screen door. Scowling, she pushed the door open and stepped out.
“What do you want?” She snapped. “How did you know where I live?”
Tyrell’s mouth turned down and he stepped to the side when she pushed against him. Makayla continued walking down the steps of the porch. She didn’t have time to deal with him if she was going to make this work.
“I found your book, the one you were reading the other day in the gym. You dropped it during the fight yesterday,” he replied, following her as she walked down the sidewalk and across the road. “Your address was inside it.”
Makayla glanced at him, then at the book he was holding in his hand. She stopped and turned, holding her hand out. Once he handed it over, she turned back and continued walking down to the dock.
“Thanks, you can go now,” she said in a short, rude tone.
“You’re welcome and I’m not leaving until we talk about the project that is coming up in less than two weeks,” Tyrell said stubbornly as he followed her onto the dock. “Why are you coming out here?”
Makayla glanced over her shoulder at him. He was glancing back and forth nervously as he made sure he stayed in the center of the dock. Turning back around, she shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m leaving,” she informed him. “I told you to do the project on your own.”
“Where are you going and when will you be back?” Tyrell insisted, stepping lightly behind her. “I talked to Mrs. Moore again yesterday and she said if you didn’t do this with me, that we’d both get an F on the project. That is half our grade, which means we’ll fail the class.”
“I don’t care,” Makayla replied with a shrug, stepping onto the Defiance and turning to look at him. “I’m leaving. I’m going back to Tampa.”
Tyrell looked at the backpack in her hand. It was so full of clothes that it wouldn’t zip all the way. His gaze flickered to the cans of food in the plastic bag she carried in her other hand. A frown creased his brow as he tried to figure out what she was doing.
“Are you planning to take this back to Tampa?” He asked in confusion.
Makayla raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Ten points for the black guy with a brain,” she snapped sarcastically, ducking down into the companionway and dropping her backpack and the plastic bag on the cushion of the couch.
> “At least I have one!” He retorted, glancing down at her. “Why don’t you just get someone to drive you there?”
Makayla climbed back up the stairs and over the side. She brushed her loose hair away from her face when the wind blew it in her eyes. She pursed her lips in aggravation; she didn’t have the time, nor the desire, to explain her life to him.
“I’m taking the sailboat because no one else will take me. Now, you’ve delivered the book, I’ve told you I’m not doing the project with you, and you are in my way,” she said in a tight voice. “I’ve got to go before my grandfather gets back, and like I said… you are in the way.”
“This is crazy,” Tyrell said, staring down at her in disbelief. “You do know this is crazy, right? You can’t just steal a sailboat and sail to Tampa!”
Makayla’s eyes glittered with fierce determination. She took a step closer to Tyrell, staring up into his face with a look that warned him she was very close to losing her temper. Raising her right hand, she poked him in the center of his chest.
“Watch me!” She snarled before she stepped around him and headed back to the house.
*.*.*
Tyrell stared back at Makayla’s retreating figure. Disbelief warred with amusement at the way she was stomping down the dock. He shook his head. White girls were crazy; he didn’t care what the other guys said.
He absently rubbed at his arm. It was sore from where the cops had handcuffed him. His grandmother had been right, they had come at him with guns drawn even though he didn’t resist. It wasn’t until the neighbor across the street showed them a replay on the security cameras that they had just installed that they released him.
His lips turned down as he watched Makayla disappear into the house. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and stared down at the dock, gazing between the narrow gaps at the water below. He had stood back yesterday when she had been jumped, but this… this was something worse as far as he was concerned. Technically, he couldn’t see Mrs. Moore holding it against him if Makayla didn’t return to school, but could he forgive himself if he just let her go off on this crazy stunt? He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrate. He had forgotten to turn the ringer on after his grandma was released from the hospital last night.