Beneath the Flames

by Gregory Lee Renz

  * * *

  Monday morning Alexus waited patiently by the front door wearing her bright blue winter coat. The hood was snugged around her head, and her Sponge Bob backpack was hanging on her back. Her hands were covered with matching mittens.

  Miss Bernie came out of Jasmine’s room, frowning. “Said she can’t go back to that school.” Miss Bernie kissed Alexus on the cheek. “You scoot off to school.”

  Mitch walked Alexus the three blocks to school in the light snow. He got to hear who her best friend was and who her second best friend was, right on down the list of all the kids in the class. She told him she was going to pick Elan for her boyfriend. She giggled and covered her mouth with her mitten.

  Miss Bernie was in the recliner waiting for him when he got back. “Mitch, that girl got me worried.”

  “Why won’t she go?”

  “Said those kids at school would torment her over the scars and what that man done to her.”

  “Now what?”

  “If we can’t get her to school, Social Service will take her away. Oh, Lord, what we gonna do?”

  Mitch knocked on Jasmine’s door. Silence. He opened it a crack. She was curled under the covers. “Need anything?” She didn’t stir. “Okay, then. See you at supper.”

  Mitch walked to the Odyssey Alternative School. The students were back at school after their winter break and anxious to start hanging drywall on the framing they had built. Mitch organized the four-by-eight-foot sections, containers of joint compound, drywall screws, and drywall knives while the students worked on their morning lessons. After lunch, they went to work. Brother Williams helped lift the heavy sheets of drywall into place as Mitch showed the students how to screw them to the studs. Their spirited banter didn’t quiet Mitch’s disturbing thoughts about Jasmine. In his short time on the job, he’d already responded to suicides of three young people.

  When school let out, Mitch followed Brother Williams to the office. “I need your help.”

  “Anything for you, my brother.”

  “It’s Jasmine. She won’t go to school.”

  Mitch filled him in on all she’d been through and how her psychologist wasn’t having much success treating her depression.

  “It’s like a plague,” Brother Williams said. “The youngest ones come to school all bright-eyed and eager to learn. But that glow fades. You start to see the pain and sadness in their eyes. Seen too much already in their short lives.” Brother Williams paused. “Sadly, our city is the most segregated in the country with our black students suffering abysmal graduation rates. Our teachers are in the trenches down here fighting to give them some tools and some hope.”

  “How do I give Jasmine hope?”

  “She won’t get better staying in that room. And she can’t go back to her school. Too many of those kids are running wild. They have no empathy for others and think nothing of ganging up on one another. We don’t allow that here.”

  “How do you stop it?”

  “We demand respect and teach empathy.” Brother Williams waved his arms as if he were preaching from the pulpit. “We have some children with learning disabilities. The more advanced students work as tutors for the ones who are struggling. This forces children who would otherwise never have contact to connect and eases the workload of our teachers. When problems arise, we have peer counseling where the students create their own solutions. And do they come up with ingenious ones.”

  “This works?”

  “We send children off to college who never dreamed it possible. Around here that’s a mighty fine miracle.”

  “How do you handle the really bad ones?”

  “Those get some one on one with me. Put the fear of God in them. They know I was a pretty bad dude back in the day. I still have the street cred. Sometimes fear’s not such a bad tool.” Brother Williams laughed.

  Mitch had to ask, “Miss Bernie said you went to prison?”

  Bother Williams’ massive brow creased. “I got in the middle of a bad situation, and a young man lost his life. Terrible tragedy. I didn’t do it, but I got sent away.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Some law students heard of my case and spent two years collecting evidence until the truth came out. After ten years in prison, my conviction was overturned. I would never have been allowed to work with these kids if not for those wonderful students. God bless them all.”

  “Prison for ten years? For something you didn’t do?”

  “The good Lord had to show me darkness before He allowed me to see the light. I know that now. The only way out of the darkness was to forgive those who put me there and forgive myself for turning to the streets.”

  “Ten years.”

  “Enough of my sad story. What we doing about Jasmine?”

  “Could she come here?”

  Bother Williams grunted and said, “They’re shutting us down. Don’t want the children to know yet. They’ve been so excited building those walls, I wanted to let them finish before I told them.”

  “How can they do that?”

  “Last month the roof started leaking. We’ve been told the rafters are rotting and the whole roof needs replacing.”

  “Won’t the city fix it?”

  “We’re a private school. We rely on vouchers and donations.”

  “How much it going to cost?”

  “Over eighty thousand, mostly labor. Our teachers all agreed to go without pay for a few months if it would keep the school going, but it won’t be near enough.”

  “When does it have to be fixed?”

  “The building inspector gave us a month to make repairs before he condemns the building. Don’t see any way that’s happening.”

  “Anyone you can go to?”

  “Went to our alderman. Off the record, he said Victory Schools had lobbied the common council to allow them to set up their private voucher schools here. He said Victory Schools wants the vouchers of my students in their schools.”

  “That’s total bullcrap.”

  “I spent the weekend on my knees. I’ll have to trust in the good Lord.”

  * * *

  Cars and trucks streamed into the parking lot of Odyssey Alternative School two days later. The early morning sun sparkled off the powdery snow cover. Fumes from a tar boiler filled the frosty January air. A flatbed loaded with lumber pulled into the lot. Off-duty firefighters threw ladders up and cleared snow from the leaking roof.

  Mitch found Brother Williams in the makeshift office in the boiler room. Against the wall, opposite the ancient, rattling boiler, stood three battered metal file cabinets and a cot strewn with disheveled blankets. Brother Williams was seated behind a small desk scattered with papers and manila folders. He pressed his massive frame from the listing office chair. “Hope you’re not intimidated by my fancy crib.” Brother Williams pointed to an old kitchen chair. “Sit.”

  “I got you some help. We should have a new roof on by next week.”

  “Mitch, I told you we don’t have the money.”

  “It’s taken care of.”

  Brother Williams threw out his arms. “How?”

  “Once word of your school spread through the department, firefighters from all over the city volunteered to help. The project manager is a firefighter whose dad owns a roofing company. Said they’d give you all the materials at cost, and you can pay them when your next voucher payments come in.” Mitch paused as Brother Williams’ mouth gaped open. “When this firefighter’s dad heard about the great work you were doing with these kids, he was excited to help. He grew up in the Core.”

  Tears formed at the corners of Brother Williams’ eyes. His mouth widened into a broad grin.

  Mitch grinned along with him. “Can Jasmine come here now?”

  “Oh, my Lord, yes. I’ll stop by tonight and invite her myself.”

  Mitch stood. “Oh, something I wanted to ask. Why don’t these kids talk like the other kids around the neighborhood?”

  “When those children walk through the doors of thi
s school, they leave Ebonics, ghetto talk, behind. Only proper English is allowed. They call it talking white. I call it talking freedom.”

  Mitch called Miss Bernie with the news, then joined the crowd of fire­fighters attacking the roof. They stripped the roof to the joists and removed the rotting ones. As darkness set in, they attached giant blue tarps to cover the open areas. Tomorrow they’d begin rebuilding the roof.

  * * *

  From outside the house, Mitch smelled roasting beef and baking biscuits. The clacking he heard would be the potato masher banging the tall aluminum kettle Miss Bernie boiled potatoes in. It reminded him of when they were in training and how it was Jamal’s job to mash potatoes for their evening meal.

  Miss Bernie stopped mashing and wiped her sweaty brow when Mitch stepped inside. The small table was set and pulled away from the wall. His mouth watered at the sight of Miss Bernie’s meatloaf. This was not the anemic meatloaf he made back at the farm. She rolled ham and Swiss cheese into the loaf and covered it with a homemade tomato sauce made from her canned tomatoes. He wasn’t a fan of her collard greens; too salty for him. But those buttermilk biscuits and the sweet potato pie were pure heaven.

  “Jasmine come out of her room today?” Mitch asked.

  Miss Bernie shook her head. “I’m at a loss with that poor girl.”

  The Sponge Bob Square Pants theme played from the front room with Alexus singing along.

  Mitch went to get Jasmine when Brother Williams arrived a few minutes later. She was curled under her covers. “Jasmine, we have company for supper. It’s Brother Williams. He runs the Odyssey School and wants you to come there.”

  She turned to the wall. “I don’t want to go to no school.”

  “I know how you feel, but won’t you at least listen to him?”

  “You don’t know how I feel. Leave me alone.”

  He did know how she felt. The tormenting guilt of Maggie’s death was never far from his thoughts. He saw her face every morning when he woke. Mitch trudged back to the kitchen. “She won’t come.”

  Miss Bernie folded her hands. “Oh, my Lord.”

  Brother Williams lifted his massive body from the small chair. “Let me see what I can do.”

  Miss Bernie closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hand. Mitch was sure she was making some serious prayer requests. He did some pray­ing himself while they waited. Alexus squirmed in her chair.

  Thirty minutes later, Bother Williams emerged from Jasmine’s room holding her hand. Jasmine had a brightly colored silk-like scarf looped around her neck so it covered the scars on her neck. Geometric patterns of black with bright stripes of greens, yellows, and blues adorned the scarf. Alexus ran to Jasmine, hugged her, and squealed, “Yaaay.”

  Mitch thought he saw a trace of a smile from Jasmine.

  When they were all seated, Miss Bernie bowed her head. “Lord, thank you for providing this wonderful bounty for us tonight and thank you for bringing Brother Williams to our table. And thank you for blessing me with these precious children. I promise to lead them in your loving ways.”

  Everyone except Jasmine chanted, “Amen.”

  Alexus took over the conversation with the latest kindergarten dramas. Jasmine ate in silence, never looking away from her plate. Miss Bernie, Mitch, and Brother Williams grinned at each other as Alexus ran on. After they finished with the sweet potato pie and whipped cream, Miss Bernie made some coffee. Jasmine returned to her room and Alexus went to the front room for more television.

  “Miss Bernie, you always could lay out a tempting table,” Brother Williams said. “Delicious. Can’t remember the last time I overindulged like that.”

  Miss Bernie poured him coffee. “Well, then you best be stopping by more. Now, how you get Jasmine to join us?”

  “I’ve been saving that Kente scarf for some time. Got it from a student of ours who’s now a teacher herself, teaching at a mission down in Ghana. The scarf was given to her by the mother of one of her students.”

  Miss Bernie pushed away from the table. “How about another slice of pie?”

  Brother Williams’ overbite spread into a broad grin. “You sure know how to take care of an old man.”

  “Oh, hush now.”

  Mitch chuckled to himself. They were flirting.

  “There’s a story behind that scarf,” Brother Williams said. “The colors have deep cultural meaning. The yellows, like the rays of sunlight, remind us of divine goodness. Blue is the color of the sea and the sky which provides tranquility and balance. Black represents maturation and intensified spir­itual energy. And green is the symbol of life, growth, and harmony. It represents the forest, the trees, birth, and spiritual growth.”

  Miss Bernie squinted. “That scarf come all the way from Africa?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I told Jasmine the history of the scarf and how I was waiting for the right student to come along. The way she risked her life to save her sister told me there was nobody more deserving.”

  “Ain’t you something, Brother Williams.”

  “What about school?” Mitch asked.

  “She knows she’ll be taken away from her sister if she doesn’t go to school. That terrifies her. But going back to school is equally terrifying.”

  “She say yes?” Miss Bernie asked.

  “Mitch told me how she wants to be a teacher.”

  Miss Bernie scowled at Brother Williams. “You gonna tell me or not?”

  “Let me finish, Bernice. I asked Jasmine if she could help us with three girls who were way behind in their studies. I asked if she could put her pain aside and work with them. They desperately need a good tutor like her.”

  “That true?” Miss Bernie asked.

  “What I didn’t tell her is those three girls have also been molested. A psychologist volunteers her time twice a week with them. She’s a woman who was molested as a child. I’m hoping Jasmine will connect with them and join in on the counseling.”

  Miss Bernie shook her head. “You one sly old dog. She said yes, didn’t she?”

  “I told her if she was worried about her burns she could wear that scarf to school. We’d tell the children it was from Africa and she was honoring her heritage by wearing it.”

  “She say yes?”

  “Said she’d give it a try.”

  “Brother Williams, you a true blessing.”

  “No. It’s that young man next to you. He’s the blessing.”

  “Lord, if that ain’t the truth.”

  Their words melted into Mitch.

  Chapter 38

  The following morning, news crews began showing up at the school. Firefighters were interviewed to explain why they were helping, but the most compelling interviews were with Brother Williams. The local stations and newspapers ran with the story of a prior gang member who was dedicated to helping inner-city children. His fight for the school in the face of a takeover by a national private school organization sparked public debate. When reporters learned about the school’s accomplishments with children from the most impoverished area of the city, they turned their focus to the mayor and alderpersons. Questions were asked about donations of campaign funds from Victory Schools. A local interview aired on the Today Show. Donations poured into the school.

  * * *

  Snow clouds darkened the late afternoon sky. The firefighters stopped for the day. They’d have the school roof finished Tuesday. Mitch headed home, walking the dark streets. The snow cover and early evening quiet gave the Core a rare touch of serenity. He knew he should be feeling good with all he had done for the school and Brother Williams, but Jasmine worried him. Brother Williams told him she was tutoring the three younger girls but refused to join in the counseling sessions with the psychologist. At home, she remained quiet, detached, and sad.

  Mitch cut through an alley while trying to focus on the school reno­vations. With all the donations flowing in, cost was no longer a factor. Booming bass from the end of the alley echoed off the dilapidated garages. Headlights
inched toward him. He backed against a crumbling garage to allow the car to pass. It stopped. Another car flew in from the opposite end, sliding to a stop on the snow-covered surface. The two cars, ten feet on each side of him bathed him in headlights. When his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw the green Buick Riviera.

  His first instinct was to run. Instead, he stood his ground glaring at the green beater. The doors of both cars flung open. Six gangbangers formed a semi-circle around him. Spiked Hair swaggered toward him. Mitch went into a wrestling crouch ready to charge him as soon as he got close enough. He sucked in a deep breath. Three of the gangbangers raised their AR-15s. Spiked Hair flashed an open palm at them while watching Mitch. “How ’bout you open that coat?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Aight then. Best not be strapped. Know you country boys love your guns.”

  Why didn’t they shoot him already?

  Spiked Hair turned to the others. “Y’all get back in the rides. I got business to talk wit dis man.” When he turned back, he looked at Mitch’s empty hands. “Good.”

  A strange calmness settled over Mitch. “What do you murdering bastards want?”

  “Heard you save that school of Junior’s.”

  “Junior?”

  “Y’all call him Brother Williams. He Junior back in the day. No matter. He doing good wit those kids. My baby girl goes there.” The man’s dead eyes flickered.

  “What’s any of that got to do with me?”

  “My Peaches been going to your firehouse. Didn’t know before. Told me you give them Packer jerseys and school stuff.”

  Peaches was the spirited little girl who wrestled Kyle to the ground when he tried taking her red crayon.

  “Only reason I’m here is to say we done wit you. Won’t bother you none.”

  Mitch didn’t know what to say.

  Spiked Hair continued. “But DeAndre? Best hope he stay away.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Should be. Dude’s crazed.” He glanced back at the cars. “You need to know some things. Wasn’t us had anything to do with those firemen got killed. Before DeAndre took over, we just took care of providin’ drugs. Never to kids. None of that prostitutin’ young girls or killin’.”