Thin Line

by Anthony Whyte

  Rumors were that his parents had money and were able to donate enough to the privately funded school to buy away any punishment for his bad behavior. My mother struggled to send me to this school. She wanted the ‘best education’ for me. I was her only child and she did everything to make my life the best possible.

  She said she never wanted me to turn out like my real father, Tyrell Greene. She would say, “I don’t want you to be like that no-good bum.” That was her pet name for him since she never actually called him by his name. According to my mother, deep down inside, he was a great man with a warm heart, but his temper and foul mouth ruined what could have been. She would say he was like a Kandinsky, a two-sided painting. On one side he was charming, handsome, intelligent and loving provider who loved us with all the breath in his body. And on the other, he was a drunk who would get mad and lash out at who ever dared cross his path. He never expressed his rage toward mom or me, but did enough to spend weekends in jail. The time he spent in and out of jail would only prove to make him tougher.

  Despite his record, it was always easy for him to get work because when he cleaned up, he was a loveable guy. He worked construction and would show me how to fix things and do ‘man’s work’, as he would call it. When he had money, he would buy me anything I wanted. When there was no work, he could not afford to pay a single dollar of child support. One thing was for sure, he wanted me to be tough. And he would not have allowed me to take any lip from this bully or anyone for that matter.

  I remember one Sunday afternoon when he shoved some young dude who was trying to cut the line at the movies. We were standing on line waiting to go to the movies and some boys were trying to cut the line. The four of them stood around talking and when they thought no one was watching, one of them would jump in the line.

  They did this all the way up to where my dad and I were standing, close to the theater entrance. When the boy tried to sneak on the line, I saw him then alerted Dad. My father shoved the guy so hard the poor fool landed about a hundred feet away. Then my dad beat up the others, all while giving his usual lecture on the path to world peace.

  “See what I’m talking about, Shareef? Everyone picks on the soft people. They get pushed around. The strong people—we get our respect.”

  Other patrons who were close enough to hear him made faces of disgust.

  “How could that man beat on those poor kids like that?”

  “They crossed the thin line between love and hate,” my father answered.

  He joined his fists side by side and raised them forward. Onlookers saw words tattooed on his fingers. LOVE was spelled out on each finger of his right hand, and HATE, in a similar fashion, on his left.

  The buzz circulated the theater and pretty soon everyone was talking about it. I often wonder why he was my father. I could see what mother told me attracted to her: his raw, rugged, handsome face. He also had a terrible temper to go with it. But I never thought of settling anything first with my fist.

  Today in the lunchroom, I ignored the bully’s needling. His silly words won’t do me any harm, was the mantra I used. I felt my eyes burning, and knew that I was already too tired for his nonsense. I allowed myself to glance up from my tasteless bologna and cheese sandwich, to look around for my best friend, Lolo. She was nowhere in sight. Maybe she had stayed in the classroom to help her teacher, as she often did.

  Our families were not only neighbors, but also best friends, and we attended the same school. She had my favorite PlayStation games. Best of all, she trusted me with them—I mean she let me hold onto four or five games at a time.

  Once we met, Lolo and I quickly became really good friends. It was the first time that I had a girl for a close friend.

  “What happened to your team, huh Shareef?”

  “They left their hearts in the locker room…”

  “No they left their balls in the locker room,” another classmate interjected and the joke raged on.

  And on it went, at my expense. Soon it was mounting to a crescendo of uncontrollable, raucous laughter. I hated being the butt of their jokes and tried to excuse myself from their graciousness. Raising my hand, I walked over to where the lunchroom teacher was standing. She was in the midst of scolding another student when I approached. Her makeup cracked when she spoke. I could tell Miss Brown was in her evilest mood.

  “Miss Brown, I would like to be excused.”

  “Excuse me, young man. What do you say before you disturb someone like myself?”

  It was apparent not only to me, but to anyone else close enough to hear what her answer to my request would be. I knew immediately from the way she squinted.

  “That is certainly not the way you were taught in this school to speak, mister.”

  It was clear she was putting me through the motions. I swallowed hard and summoned my determination to make another attempt.

  “Excuse me, Miss Brown. May I be excused from the lunchroom? I would like to use the boys’ room.”

  I waited several haunting seconds while she rolled her eyes at me. Finally she opened her mouth and answered.

  “No, Shareef. You always want to go somewhere. Go back and finish with your lunch,” she loudly said.

  I could hear the chuckling. It was then that I realized how much I hated Miss Brown. I knew she had no love for me. But Lolo had always liked her, and they shared a connection that I never understood.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, and went back to my seat.

  When I reached my table I saw what look like pee where I once sat. I glared. No one moved; there was only a roar of laughter. It was Bobby. He had poured apple juice on my seat to make it look like I peed on myself.

  Bobby was always playing stupid pranks on everyone. If only Lolo was here, she would tell me how to deal with this situation. She always did. Where was she? I wondered looking at my classmates, seemingly enjoying the school bully’s wisecracks.

  “Aw, did you pee on yourself? Loser…loser…” I heard him, but ignored the taunting. “Oh man, you’re not trying to run, are you? Take it like a man. Don’t try to run like a punk, loser.”

  He was on a roll and his comments brought him another round of laughter. The whole school feared him. He was not saying anything funny, but students laughed themselves silly as he ranted on to avoid being the next object of his attention. I kept my mouth shut and wondered about Lolo.

  Maybe she was out starting that organization of hers to fight hunger. She was crazy and was probably out recruiting other helpers. Although she tended to be a little eccentric, Lolo was the smart, go-getter type who wouldn’t wait for me. She probably did not really need school. But who needed school anyway?

  These kids were a bunch of show-offs. They irked me, but since I met Lolo, it was easier to cope with them. As I glanced around the lunchroom, I saw that they were actually scared.

  “Okay, Shareef, you’ve been disruptive enough for the day. Please sit.”

  It was Miss Brown flapping her lips and coming at me like I was the culprit.

  “But someone...like put this—” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.

  “Young man you will clean up the mess and sit down!” She ordered gruffly.

  “It’s not my mess! I got up and—”

  “It’s your seat, your chair, and your mess to clean up!” Miss Brown said harshly.

  My palms started to sweat and I bit my lips, determined not to cry as I felt the anger stirring inside me. I stared at the mess on the seat.

  “Now you clean that mess or you will be getting a demerit. And remember, you are only one demerit away from suspension.”

  Miss Brown had a reputation for giving suspensions to the poor and scholarship kids like me without batting an eye. I knew she would call my mom and complain to the principal until I was finally expelled for good. As much as I hated this school, I knew what graduation from here meant to my mom. She was always telling me how graduating from a good school like this would pay off in the end with top picks for prep schoo
ls and college. I didn’t want the trouble so I took a deep breath, picked up a napkin and wiped the mess from the chair.

  “Now sit down!” She ordered.

  I complied. Dutifully I sat, feeling as vexed as I could get. My mind was in a panic and sought someone to blame. This was all Lolo’s fault. The thought spread through my cerebellum and became a prominent diversion. Lolo was my only protection from this private-school madness, being that she was a true friend, and had also come from money, they treated her different. Miss Brown would be more reserved around her. As I stared at the back of Miss Brown, I thought she was probably smiling as she walked away. I felt like cursing but held my tongue. Instead I grimaced like she had used pepper-spray on me. I really wanted to ask her what was nice about her, but didn’t.

  There were so many thoughts going through my mind all at once, I felt like screaming. But I had no one to scream at. My feelings didn’t seem to matter so I put them aside and thought about Lolo.

  Over the past two years, it was hard to believe, but as far as I recalled she had never missed school. Today was the exception. Of course Lolo had to be out on the day I needed her most. I tried to ride out Bobby’s taunting, until he walked up and slapped me in the back of my head. My hair was freshly cut, so the slap stung. Milliseconds before I could even think to retaliate, Miss Brown was on the scene and to his rescue.

  “Stop that right this minute. The both of you…!” She yelled.

  That thin line had been crossed. And now I refused to back down like I was a chump.

  “You try that again, punk. I ain’t one of these private-school chumps. I’m not afraid of you…” I started as the bully jumped in my face.

  “Yeah, you wanna try and back that brave talk up? I own this school. You think ’cause you a black Rican from public school you can fight me?”

  He was too close for me to retreat. I bit my lip knowing that casualty was expected. I was about to build up enough courage to swing when Miss Brown was on my back.

  “Shareef! Shareef, you stop that foul-mouth cursing and get over there on the line now!” She screamed.

  “He started with me. I swear he did.”

  She turned away, ignoring me and said, “Boys and girls, lets get our things together. It’s time to leave the lunchroom in an orderly fashion. Shareef, you get over here, now!” Miss Brown barked.

  Miss Brown probably goes home and transforms into the evilest of witches, I was thinking as I took my place in the line.

  Though I tried not to brood over what had happened in the lunchroom for the rest of the school day, I did. I mean I couldn’t concentrate and time seemed to move slowly. Finally the sound of the bell rang and it seemed the torture was over.

  I could get home play some NBA Live and tell Lolo about my crazy day. I’d find out why she missed school. I couldn’t wait to talk to her. She was always going on about the importance of being in school—now I’d get her for sure. The day ended with me smiling at the opportunity.

  Barely dodging Miss Brown flying past on the broomstick I imagined, I waited for my mother to come and get me from this wreck of a day. I glimpsed the car and sprinted across the schoolyard to her.

  “Hi Shareef,” she said. Her smile was faint. I kissed her and she patted my head.

  “Hi, Mommy, how’re you?”

  There was no need for her to answer. The serious expression she now wore on her face said it all. Bad news traveled fast. I had to formulate a plan.

  “Mommy, it wasn’t my fault. I…” I started, but was quickly cut-off.

  “Huh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “Shareef, please say nothing else to incriminate yourself.”

  Without another word, she grabbed my arm and we headed to the principal’s office. I dragged my feet as much as possible while my stomach did cartwheels.

  We came to the office and the principal was standing outside along with the witch. The principal motioned for me to wait outside. As my mother entered the office, I sat down apprehensively and waited.

  Immediately I removed a textbook from my book bag and buried my head in it. Lolo had always told me this worked in case of emergency. The words blurred as I tried to focus on the text.

  I was filled with anxiety and could not absorb a syllable. Miss Brown must have reported me to the principal and they had called my mother to inform her of their version of the story. All of a sudden the room shrank. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The walls were tumbling down on me. There was no use trying to concentrate on the text. I hated school. I scratched my head, seething.

  Later my mother emerged from the office wearing a grim expression. I couldn’t immediately see her anger. Instead of the lecture, she signaled for me to follow to the exit. Staff members were looking at me pitifully as we walked by.

  “Mom,” I said, when I had caught up to her.

  “Yes, Shareef,” she answered.

  I was confused by the patience in her tone. Completely thrown for a loop, my thoughts reshuffled. Mother was really in a weird mood. That witch Miss Brown was to be blamed for all of this. She had hypnotized my mother and charged me with false story.

  I could tell by the way she gripped my hand walking to the car something was wrong. Mother appeared to be under a spell that either made her scared or so angry she was afraid to lose her temper. She waited for me to buckle my seat belt. I was a little worried.

  “Mom, are you mad at me or…?”

  I glanced at her and realized that she was staring at me really hard. It was as if she was trying to sum up my fate. If I’m lucky, there’ll be no video games for a week, or no phone privileges. I won’t be able to talk to Lolo. That wasn’t good, but at least I’d be able to e-mail her. I was thinking the worst, when suddenly mother hugged me and tears welled in her eyes. I didn’t understand.

  Maybe dad was arrested again. He was drunk a lot, causing a ruckus and getting tossed in jail every week or so. Mother always had to bail him out. She would be sad for about two or three days and then she would be back to normal. Once she arrested a kid she told me that reminded her of me. Mother almost had a nervous breakdown and would greet me each day with an emotional hug.

  When I first joined the school, I had wanted no part of it. But after meeting Lolo, I coped better. Mother was happy to know she lived on our block. Her family was rich, and that seemed to take my mind and my mother’s off the episode when she arrested the kids. Mom wasn’t as emotional. Most of all, I was happy Lolo and her parents lived in the largest house.

  At a party they invited us to; my parents met her parents. They liked each other. Pretty soon my stepfather, Stanley McCoy and Lolo’s father became great friends. Both were interested in education and Mr. Mozi always contributed generously to Stanley’s school causes.

  Mr. Mozi also made great financial contributions to the school I attended. I guessed that’s the reason Lolo got so much respect from the staff at school. I was thinking and staring back at the church-gray color of the huge school building as it became smaller in the rearview.

  Mother paid close attention to the road. Every now and then she would glance at me and smile. It was a nervous smile, like she had just been caught in a lie. I was scared but still wanted to ask. The feeling of wanting to go to the bathroom came, and it caused great discomfort. I was getting nervous. What else could go wrong?

  My thoughts took me on a journey. By the end, I decided that if she had done something wrong, I would be able to forgive her—she was my mother.

  “Mom, is everything alright?” I asked and held my breath. She didn’t answer immediately. We reached a stoplight and she turned and examined me. “Well…”

  “Do you have your seatbelt on properly?”

  “Huh mom? I do. I do,” I said somewhat frustrated. I thought she would let me have it.

  My mother always let me know about everything. She told me of the time when my dad and her broke up. That was a very hard time in my life. My dad got drunk before picking me up from the park. The festival I was at ended hou
rs before he made an appearance. It was the last time I saw him until he went to court. Mom had to go to the park police and plead for them not to report the incident. They did because my inebriated father had cursed a supervisor and had gotten a lot of people mad.

  It led to her near suspension from the police training academy and disciplinary letter in her file. After that incident, I was sent to live with my grandmother.

  When she completed her police training we moved in with her new boyfriend Stanley. He was a public schoolteacher and warned my mother to transfer me to private school. All of my friends attended public school so that was tough. After switching schools, I lost contact with them.

  The kids at the old school were like me. Most were from working- or middle-class parents. They were from the same neighborhood, and they were into cigarettes, video games, music, and girls.

  At the new school, they were all rich. Lolo and I were the only black kids, which meant we always seemed to stand out. The kids there were into international travel and music concerts, because they had the means to get anything they wanted.

  Mother kept driving and I was trying figure out what the punishment would be. But she seemed sad, not mad. Maybe she was ashamed of my behavior at lunch. No, she loved me, and I didn’t hit that bully. I glanced around to see if Miss Brown would zoom by us cackling in the wind.

  “Mom, I don’t think I like that school. I mean take for example… They all like different basketball teams than I do. Because the school bully likes the Celtics, then no one is allowed to talk about any other teams. Not for me,” I said, shaking at my head and looking for her reaction.

  She would talk about it now I was sure. If Lolo were here, she would have told her what had really happened.

  “He started teasing me first,” I said.

  Because my mother was a police officer I felt that it was impossible to hide anything from her. She was always telling me that the police were trained to get the truth out of you so I figured it best to explain my role so that she would see the truth. Maybe she would not take away my privileges.