Lessons In Love (Bantu Academy Series Book 1)

by D. Camille

  “She thinks so.”

  Josiah smiled. “Well, it was nice seeing you Ms. Barrett.”

  “We’re not at school, so you can call me Kenya.”

  He held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you Kenya. I’m Josiah.”

  “Josiah. That’s nice.” Kenya took his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  She looked him over, then smiled. “You look a lot different out of your work clothes.”

  “So do you.” He returned her perusal.

  Kenya waited until his eyes met hers again. “I’m thinking maybe we can discuss that fourth-grade syndrome over lunch this weekend?”

  “I can definitely fit that in.” He replied. “Let me give you my number.”

  Kenya took out her phone and entered the number as he spoke.

  “Got it.”

  “Okay, just text me the location and I’ll be there.”

  She put her phone back into her purse. “I’ll do that.”

  “I may stop by your class tomorrow to check on Dameon.” Josiah informed her.

  “That’s not a problem.”

  They looked at one another for a long moment.

  “I should be going.” Josiah announced.

  “Yes, me too. Class starts early.”

  He opened her car door. “Drive safely.”

  Kenya looked at him before sliding inside. “Thank you. You too…”

  Closing the door with a nod, Josiah walked away to his own vehicle, and Kenya took off heading for home. On the drive, her phone rang.

  “What do you want, Niyah?”

  “Did you two exchange numbers?”

  “I took his.”

  Kenya kept driving as Niyah spoke. “Are you going out?”

  “We’re meeting to discuss his work.”

  “His work?”

  “Yes, I’m interested in his specialty work with fourth grade black boys.”

  Niyah paused. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. We’d talked about it earlier today and had agreed to meet up at some point.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Kenya rolled her eyes. “Because it had just happened, while you were out planning your little dinner parties.”

  “I won’t interfere anymore. I just wanted to bring you two together, but I guess you didn’t need my help.” Niyah told.

  “No I didn’t.” Kenya said firmly, then softened. “But I appreciate you looking out for your girl…”

  “You know I love you.”

  Kenya smiled. “I know, and I love you too…and my babies.”

  “I think R.J. loves you, like C.K. loves Leslie.” Niyah teased.

  “Curtis Kendall VI is too damn much, but my little R.J. is a sweetheart.” Kenya told her. “Like his father…”

  “Hey,” Niyah warned.

  “You know it’s the truth.”

  “Yes, my husband and my son are both sweethearts. Thank you.”

  Kenya shook her head. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ll let you go, now.” Niyah said yawning. “And I’ll see you tomorrow…”

  “See you tomorrow, Niyah.”

  Kenya returned home and began to prepare for bed. Going through her routine, her mind stayed on one Josiah Webber. Picking up her phone, she looked at his number, then replaced the device back on the nightstand.

  “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Webber.

  ******

  Josiah arrived at his office the next morning and sat at his desk. Last night he’d thought that Kenya would contact him, but she’d played it safe. However, Ms. Barrett would soon learn that Josiah Webber rarely played it safe. His whole life had been a gamble, and he’d come out as a winner.

  Today, he was anxious to check on Dameon. Experience had taught him that black boys needed to see black men keeping their word. This taught them the importance of being a man of honor. Standing, he left his office and headed to Kenya’s room.

  At her door, he knocked, and she came to open it with a look of concern.

  “Hello, Mr. Webber,”

  “Good morning, Ms. Barrett.”

  “Dameon’s not in class today.” She told him.

  Josiah frowned. “I wonder if this has to do with yesterday?”

  “I don’t know. I was going to call his mother, later.”

  “You know what, why don’t I call?” he suggested.

  Kenya agreed. “Can you let me know what you find out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Josiah took a look around the classroom, at the students working at their desks before leaving and heading back to his office. On his computer, he pulled up Dameon’s file and got his mother’s number. Dialing it, he got a voicemail, and left a message.

  “Ms. Wilkins, this is Josiah Webber from the Bantu Academy. I was calling to check up on Dameon, since he is not in class today. Please give me a call back.”

  Josiah left his number and ended the call. Sitting back in his seat, he rubbed a hand down his face. He’d hoped that Dameon’s mother would be willing to work with him to keep Dameon on the right path, but she may be having different thoughts.

  Being on the wrong path himself, for many years, had taught him the consequences. Josiah understood that being a black mother, period, was a job…and a single one, faced a myriad of additional challenges. He also knew that, while not impossible, it was not ideal for a woman to raise a boy into a man, without a strong male role model.

  The black community, through broken homes and poverty, was raising a generation of lost children, gravitating to the wrong ideals. Josiah checked his computer again and got an address. He wouldn’t let Dameon become one of those statistics, if he could help it.

  Driving to the location, Josiah stepped out of his car and walked to the door. Not seeing a doorbell, he knocked loudly on the door, then waited. A minute later, the door opened and a teenage boy stood looking at him.

  “What you want?” the boy asked, looking Josiah over.

  “I’m looking for Ms. Wilkins.” Josiah answered.

  “She ain’t here.”

  Josiah stared at the boy. “Is Dameon here?”

  “Who asking?” The boy stepped closer.

  “I’m the Guidance Counselor at the Bantu Academy.” Josiah looked down at him.

  “What you want with him?”

  “I want to know why he’s not at school.”

  The boy shrugged. “He ain’t want to go, so I let him stay home.”

  Josiah frowned. “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Nigga, you not my daddy…”

  “I’m not your nigga either,” Josiah told him firmly.

  The boy continued to look up at him. “What you want, man?”

  “I’d like to speak with Dameon.”

  The boy stepped back. “Whatever…” He then yelled for Dameon. “Day! Get in here.”

  Josiah walked inside the home and looked around. While furnished nicely, you could barely tell from all the clutter. Empty plates of food sat on a coffee table, along with clothing and shoes strewn around the room.

  Peeking into the kitchen, he saw a sink full of dishes and clutter all over the counters. Frowning, Josiah watched as Dameon entered the room, with a look of surprise on his face.

  “Mr. Webber?”

  Josiah nodded. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Why you at my house?”

  “Why aren’t you at school?”

  He looked away. “I ain’t want to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m always in trouble…”

  Josiah looked at him. “Does your mother know you’re at home?”

  “I’m watching him.” The teenage boy inserted.

  “Does your mother know that you’re at home?” Josiah asked Dameon again.

  “She had to go to work early.” Dameon answered.

  “So…no.” Josiah clarified.

  A phone rang and the teenager answ
ered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ma…”

  Josiah listened to the conversation.

  “Yeah, he’s here.” The boy said into the phone. “He didn’t want to go!”

  Turning to Dameon, Josiah saw him looking nervous, as they both could hear his mother through the phone.

  “What the hell you mean, he didn’t want to go?” she demanded.

  “He didn’t feel good.” The teenager lied.

  “I don’t want to hear that! He was fine this morning before I left.” Ms. Wilkins told him. “Put Dameon on the phone.”

  Angrily, the teenager handed the phone to Dameon.

  “Hello?” he said warily.

  “Why aren’t you at school? What did I tell you?”

  Dameon swallowed. “I didn’t feel good.”

  “Lie again, and see what happens to you!”

  He frowned, then yelled. “I didn’t want to go!”

  “Who the hell you hollering at?” she hollered at him.

  Josiah listened to the conversation without intervening.

  “Nobody…” Dameon responded.

  “When I get home, my damn house better be clean!”

  Dameon looked at his older brother.

  “You better clean it.” The teenager told him, and Dameon frowned again.

  Now Josiah made his presence known.

  “Let me speak to your mother.” He told Dameon, and the boy slowly handed him the phone.

  “Ms. Wilkins, this is Mr. Webber from the Bantu Academy.”

  There was a pause. “Who?”

  “The Guidance Counselor. We met yesterday.”

  “What are you doing at my house?” she asked.

  “I came to check on your son.”

  “I didn’t know that he wasn’t at school.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “Listen, I have to work and I don’t need no damn CPS on my back.”

  “I’m not calling CPS, Ms. Wilkins. I’m here to help you.”

  “What do you want?” she questioned. “I have to get back to work.”

  “I’d like to take Dameon to school, if I can have your permission.”

  “Yeah, you can take him. Tell him I’ll see him later.”

  With that, she hung up, and Josiah handed the phone back to the teenager, then turned to Dameon.

  “Go get ready for school.” He told him.

  Hearing the male authority in Josiah’s voice, Dameon moved quickly, leaving the room.

  “What’s your name?” Josiah asked the other boy.

  “Scooter.”

  Josiah shook his head. “What is your real name?”

  “Javon.”

  “Okay, Javon. Why aren’t you at school?”

  “That’s not my thing.” He said, going to plop on the sofa and picking up a controller.

  Josiah frowned. “How does your mother feel about that?”

  Javon laughed. “She can’t make me go.”

  “You’re fourteen and you don’t go to school.” Josiah pointed out. “What are you going to do with your life?”

  “I’mma get on...”

  “How?” Josiah asked.

  Javon focused on the game on the screen. “That’s my business.”

  “How long do you think your Momma’s going to take care of you?”

  “As long as she want to…” He looked at Josiah. “Why you so concerned?”

  “Because I’ve seen boys like you,” Josiah counseled. “And they end up in one of two places…dead or in jail.”

  Javon turned back to the screen. “Nah, that ain’t me.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “You don’t know me, man. Take little dude to school and keep it moving.”

  Josiah looked at him. “I learned a saying while I was growing up. It says a hard head makes a soft ass. There are a lot of soft asses out here, and you’re one of them.”

  Dameon appeared, dressed for school, with his book bag.

  “Are you ready?” Josiah asked, and he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Josiah headed to the door with Dameon, then stopped and turned back to Javon.

  “Do like your Momma said, and clean this house…little nigga.”

  Dameon looked at his brother, then followed Josiah out to his car.

  “Buckle your seatbelt.” Josiah instructed once they were inside.

  After Dameon followed his instructions, Josiah started the car and took off.

  “Why are lying about not feeling well?” Josiah questioned.

  “That’s what Scooter said…so I said it too.”

  Josiah glanced at him. “You know what? It’s never a good idea to follow what other people do, especially if you’re doing things that are wrong.”

  Dameon stared at him, and Josiah continued.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  The boy nodded.

  “I’d still like to know what’s the problem at school.” Josiah said quietly.

  “It’s not fun, no more.”

  “In what way?”

  Dameon looked out the window. “We have to do work all day.”

  “Is the work hard?” Josiah questioned.

  “Sometimes…”

  “Do you ask for help from your teachers, like Ms. Barrett?”

  The boy smiled. “Ms. Barrett is nice. I like her.”

  Seeing his smile, Josiah chuckled. “I can tell.”

  Dameon blushed and Josiah kept driving for a minute.

  “What’s your favorite subject at school?” Josiah asked him.

  “Gym.”

  “Gym is a class…not a subject.” Josiah explained. “Do you like math, reading, science, history, art…”

  He smiled. “I do like math with Ms. Barrett sometimes, and I like art with Miss Benson. I wanna be in Mr. Bannaka’s class and learn about black people. Mrs. Miller teaches that, too.”

  “They’re all good teachers.” Josiah agreed.

  “I might be a teacher, when I grow up.” Dameon told him. “If I’m not playing basketball.”

  Josiah looked at him. “I thought you didn’t like school.”

  “I won’t make my kids do work all the time.”

  “What are they going to do?”

  “Have more gym.”

  Josiah smiled. “How much do you learn at gym?”

  “I work on my handles.”

  “You’ve got handles?”

  Dameon smiled. “Yeah…”

  “I’m going to have to see that.” Josiah told him.

  “Okay, Mr. Webber. I’ll shake you.”

  Josiah lifted a brow. “Shake me? I’m six-three and I’ve got some handles, too.”

  Dameon looked him over in his suit. “You got handles? I gotta see that.”

  “Okay, I’m going to come to one of your gym periods and we’ll see.”

  The boy froze. “You’re gonna come to my class?”

  Josiah nodded. “Yes.”

  Dameon looked confused. “What do you do at the school again, Mr. Webber?”

  Chapter 3

  Kenya’s prep hour came and she hadn’t heard from Mr. Webber about Dameon. She went to his office and didn’t find him there. Her next stop was the main office, where she stopped at the front desk.

  “Ms. Barrett,”

  “Hi, Ms. James.”

  “What can I help you with?”

  “I was looking for Mr. Webber, because he was checking up on one of my students, Dameon Wilkins.” Kenya explained.

  “Mr. Webber, checked Dameon in about ten minutes ago.”

  “He checked him in?” Kenya asked confused.

  Ms. James nodded. “He went to his home and picked him up for school.”

  “What?” Kenya said surprised.

  “He took him to the gym, if you want to find them.” Ms. James told her.

  Still digesting the fact that the man had actually gone and picked up the boy, Kenya nodded. “Uh…okay. I’ll do that.”

 
Leaving the office, Kenya headed toward the gymnasium. When she got there, she was stopped in her tracks at what her eyes were seeing. Mr. Webber in his slacks and dress shoes, was dribbling the hell out of a basketball. His tie was loosened and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the arms.

  Dameon and a group of little boys were all watching his ball skills in fascination. They started a game, and Kenya leaned against the wall, watching the man shoot, dribble and layup the basketball. The boys were all engrossed in the game, chasing him around the floor.

  Kenya couldn’t contain her smile, nor her attraction to the man, oblivious to her presence. Mr. Webber’s focus was completely on the children he was engaging. In the process, Kenya admired his form.

  It was clear to her, that Mr. Webber had at some point played some serious basketball, probably at the collegiate level. Despite playing with nine year olds, he displayed a professionalism that seemed to be an innate part of him.

  She listened in to his conversation with the boys, after he scored the winning basket on them.

  “Game!” Josiah called out.

  “Man, that’s not fair.” Dameon told him.

  “What’s not fair?”

  Dameon frowned at him. “You play like LeBron or something.”

  Josiah laughed, holding the ball underneath his arm. “Nah, not LeBron.”

  “Can you dunk?” Another boy asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I can dunk.”

  “Can we see it?” Dameon asked excitedly.

  Josiah hesitated until he heard another voice.

  “Yes, can we see it, Mr. Webber?”

  Turning he saw Kenya heading toward where he stood with the boys.

  “Hi, Ms. Barrett!” All the boys shouted.

  “Hello, young Kings.”

  Josiah waited until she reached them and looked down at her.

  “Hello, Ms. Barrett.”

  “Hello. I came looking for you to see how Dameon was doing, but now I’d like to see you dunk that basketball under your arm.” Kenya told him.

  Josiah began to bounce the ball slowly, watching her.

  “You want to see me dunk this ball?” he asked, watching her.

  She looked at the kids. “I think we all do.”

  The boys cheered him on. “Come on Mr. Webber!”

  Josiah looked at the eager young faces. “Okay, if I do something that you all ask me to do, all of you have to do something I ask of you…” His gaze went to Kenya’s.

  “Okay!” The boys shouted.

  “Ms. Barrett?”

  The group turned to her. “Come on Ms. Barrett. Please! We wanna see it.”