The Gift-Giver

by Joyce Hansen

She sat down and unloosed her fists. "Okay, but you was wrong. You not supposed to help someone hide out. You should tell me."

  I couldn't stop crying. "Suppose that happen to me?" I sobbed.

  She put her arms around me. I was surprised. "Oh hush, girl. You ain't gonna be put in no home. Nothing gonna happen to me and your daddy. And if it did we got plenty family. You don't have to live with strangers. But don't you ever lie to me like that again. I won't punish you this time because you really hurt for that poor boy."

  That nosey Mrs. Johnson left talking about, "You don't know what mess these children can get into."

  I got another sermon from my father, about how it's good to help friends, but don't help them do wrong.

  I couldn't sleep that night. I tried to imagine how it'd feel to live with strangers. You got to do things their way. Sleep in a strange bed, eat strange food. Look at strange faces.

  I kept seeing Amir in reform school eating bread and water like in jail. No mama and no daddy. I rather see my mother mad and evil, and my father lecturing at me and putting me under punishment every day of the year, than not to have no mother or father at all.

  7. Friends

  Mrs. Johnson must've told Mickey and Dotty the whole story. They asked me a million questions the next day. We got to school late. So we had to stay in. Mickey and Dotty left before I did cause I got double punishment for talking in class. All day people asked me questions about what happened to Sherman. I had to write one hundred times "I must not talk in class."

  Mrs. Brown finally let me out. My two best friends didn't even bother to wait. But Amir was there. "I waited for you," he said. I was glad. We walked to 163rd Street together.

  "Amir, how come you was sent to reform school?"

  "When my parents died I went to live with my aunt and uncle. Then I ran away from them."

  "At least they was family. Not strangers."

  "Sometimes there ain't no difference. They had a lot of children. We all ran wild. Did whatever we wanted to."

  "That don't sound so bad to me."

  "You get tired of that."

  "Why you run away?"

  "I went to look for my little brothers and sisters."

  "You mean you was like Sherman?"

  "Yes. We was separated."

  "You found them?"

  "No. I just know they live in a big home—upstate somewhere."

  "They live with a foster family too?"

  "No, they live in a home with a lot of other kids."

  "You still miss them?"

  "Yes," he said real quietly.

  He put his hands in his dungaree pockets, and kicked an old, rusty can into the street. Amir looked so sad. I tried to think of something happy to say.

  He turned to me and said, "Let's go visit Sherman's grandmother."

  "Nobody goes to visit Sherman's grandmother. I told you that before. We never even went up there when Sherman lived on the block."

  "Why?"

  "For one thing, Sherman never invited no one up. And another thing, she a nasty old woman."

  "We promised him we'd look out for her."

  "You promised, not me."

  "Maybe we could help her."

  "We just kids. What can we do? I almost got in a lot of trouble over Sherman. I ain't messing in nobody's business no more!"

  He made his big eyes look real sad.

  "Please. Come with me."

  "Why don't you ask Big Russell or Bird?"

  "I want you to come."

  This big-head, big-eyed boy is some pest, I thought.

  "You want some protection, huh?" I said. He smiled.

  Amir talked me into going with him. After I finished my homework I went back outside and we walked to Sherman's building.

  "You do the talking. I ain't staying long either."

  We could hardly make out the name on the bell. They lived in apartment 5A. The lights was out on the third floor. We ran real fast to the next landing.

  I said, "Amir, suppose that woman run us down the steps with a stick?" He ignored me.

  When we got to her door we both just stood there looking at each other.

  "You knock," I said. "This was your idea."

  Suddenly the door flew open. Sherman's grandma stood there with her crepe-paper face and little squinched eyes. Her body was all bent over. I never saw her so close up before.

  "You better get out of here!" she yelled. "What you doing messing at my door?"

  I jumped back to the stairs. Amir stood there like he didn't hear.

  "Ma'm, we friends of Sherman and we was wondering whether we could do anything for you."

  "You liars! You just trying to bother me 'cause you know I'm here alone."

  "No, ma'm. We really want to help. We promised our friend we'd look in on you."

  "Get out! I'll call the police on you."

  "Come on, Amir, let's get out of here."

  He stood there. "Can we do anything for you since you're alone? Since Sherman ain't here to help you?"

  The old lady unsquinched her eyes and looked at Amir for a long time. Amir said, "We in Sherman's class and we was worried about him. Can we help you?"

  The old woman's face looked like it was about to fall apart. Then she cried. I was shocked. I'd never seen an old person cry.

  "Let's go, Amir," I whispered. He ignored me. Next I felt a lump coming in my throat. I thought old people didn't have tears.

  I ran down the stairs. Mickey and Dotty passed by the building as I came out. "What you doing in there?" Mickey asked.

  "Nothing."

  "What's wrong with you?" she said, looking at me hard.

  "Nothing."

  I ran to my building. When I got in the house my mother was surprised. "What's wrong with you? I didn't even call you up."

  "I have a stomach ache, Ma."

  "I told you about eating them greasy French fries at Mr. Sam's store."

  I went to my room and stayed there for the rest of the evening. I made believe I didn't feel good. Of course, I had to take some nasty medicine.

  I couldn't do nothing but think about Amir and Sherman and Sherman's grandma, and the terrible things that happen to people.

  That next morning I didn't wait for Mickey and Dotty. I cut through the playground and sat on the school steps. Hardly anyone was there yet.

  Then I saw Amir. I didn't want to speak to him either. I ran to the other side of the yard where no one was. But Amir ain't got them big eyes for nothing. He spotted me and came over. I thought about how that old lady was crying and Amir trying to be nice and me running like a fool. I couldn't look at him.

  "Thank you for coming with me yesterday."

  I thought he was teasing me and I got mad. I looked at him, but he was serious. "I didn't do nothing," I said.

  "Yes you did. You went with me. Now the old lady knows Sherman got some friends and she got some friends."

  I bit my lips. "I'm going there after school to run some errands for her," he said. "You want to come?"

  I shook my head yes. He smiled.

  "Good, I'll meet you after you come back out," he said. He ran off to the other side of the yard.

  I felt better. You know, he never said anything to me or anybody else about how I ran from the old lady's tears.

  Me and Amir helped the old lady later that afternoon. We went to the store for her. I still felt a little funny going back over there. She opened the door soon as we knocked. Like she was standing there all day long waiting for us. It was the first time in my life I ever saw Sherman's grandma smile.

  And I was shocked at how the apartment looked. She had all these plants. It was like a forest. There was pretty little lacy things on the chairs and the couch. And all kinds of little animals and figures made of glass and wood. And she had pictures of Sherman and all his brothers and sisters.

  After that everybody got in on the act. Even that old T.T. helped her with some packages one day.

  But me and Amir looked in on her every day
. And she wasn't ugly or mean when you got to know her. Like all grown-ups she liked to preach, but she was okay. She always gave us ginger snaps and stories.

  Once Mickey was up there with me and Amir. When we left she said, "That's some raggedy furniture she got. No wonder Sherman never invited no one up there."

  Me and Amir looked at each other. I felt like telling her the furniture in her house didn't look too new either. "I never noticed the furniture. Guess I was just looking at them pretty plants."

  "How you miss that big spring hanging from under the couch?"

  Amir said, "What you doing looking under the couch?"

  "Yeah," I said. "You just looking for something wrong. At least the house is clean. It ain't right to go to somebody's house and start talking bad about how it looks."

  "Doris, you act like you ain't never talked about nobody's house. How about the time you went to Lavinia's and said you saw red rice everywhere."

  "It's different with Lavinia. She always talking about people herself. You shouldn't talk about Sherman's grandma."

  After that I never asked Mickey to go up there with me. Me and Amir always went there together. Sometimes I'd go there alone. Me and Amir said it was almost like having a grandmother again. Neither one of us had a grandmother or grandfather anymore.

  Sometimes I'd be there helping her and I'd think that maybe I could be a nurse when I grew up. I could help old people and sick people.

  We also visited Sherman. One Saturday we put our money together and came up with enough carfare for all of us to take the bus crosstown.

  He was glad to see us. His foster family didn't turn him in for running away. He said they were okay but he missed his own family. He was glad we was looking out for his grandma, though.

  Sherman came to the block the next Saturday and Sunday. But he was different. He didn't sound on nobody or make up names. He didn't even play ball. He was just real quiet.

  8. The Shooting

  "We should get out of school now," Mickey said.

  "Yeah. I wish we didn't have to be there until the end of June," I answered.

  Dotty said, "I hate May."

  "Who's May?" Mickey asked.

  "Dummy," I said, "she means the month of May."

  "I hate May because it feels like summer, but you still in school," Dotty said.

  Mickey pulled my arm. "Let's go to the playground."

  I made believe I didn't hear her. I knew I had to go straight home.

  Dotty said, "I don't feel like it."

  "Well, where you want to go?" Mickey asked.

  "To the beach."

  Me and Mickey laughed. Dotty could say some crazy things. She knew we only went to the beach once or twice in the summer. And that'd be in July or August. Somebody's father get hold of a car, pile in all the kids in the block and take us to the beach.

  "I'll ask my chauffeur to get the limousine and take us all for a ride in the country this afternoon," I said.

  Dotty put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "Oh, no. My chauffeur and my limousine could take us."

  Suddenly we hear ambulance sirens, and see police cars racing down the street. Then Yellow Bird comes running over to us.

  "A boy got shot in the playground," he yelled.

  We raced behind Bird. I forgot about going straight home.

  There was a bunch of people and police in the playground. A cop came over to us. "You kids live in this neighborhood? Go over there and look at that dead boy. See if you know him."

  "What? Dead boy?" we said. My head felt tight. Mickey looked scared. Dotty pushed her way through the crowd. Mickey said, "Go on, Doris. See what happened."

  "Why don't you go ahead?" I said.

  A cop grabbed my arm and pulled me through the crowd.

  "You know him?" he asked.

  It was a boy about my age. He just laid there in a patch of dirt, under a scraggly tree. There was no blood, no scars, no holes.

  "You know him?" the cop yelled.

  I heard Dotty and Bird say, "No. He don't live around here."

  I couldn't stop looking. The cop yelled in my ear. "Come on, move it!"

  Someone touched my shoulders softly. It was Amir. We left the playground and walked home together.

  "Amir, did you see that boy's face?"

  "Yes."

  "He didn't look hurt or dead."

  "I know."

  "Amir, I'm sorry I looked. Now I can't forget his face."

  We got to my stoop and sat down.

  "How was the boy shot?" I asked him.

  "Somebody said there was a sniper on a roof. Somebody just shooting off a gun."

  "It wasn't no gang fight?"

  "No."

  "It looked like he was sleeping, Amir."

  "I know."

  "Why did it happen?"

  "I don't know, Doris."

  "You think somebody was after him?"

  "No. He was just there when the bullet came."

  "He was a kid like us, Amir."

  "I know."

  "Suppose we had been in the playground. I'm scared, Amir. Are you?"

  "Yes."

  Amir took out a crumpled piece of paper and started writing on it, real fast. First I didn't pay him no mind. I was thinking about that boy laying on that dirty ground where the dogs been. Amir handed me the paper. It wasn't writing. He had made the most beautiful drawing I ever saw. It was a girl with two braids at each side of her face. Tears were falling out her eyes.

  "You draw good, Amir. Who is it?"

  "You."

  I know he was just trying to make me feel good, 'cause I ain't as pretty as he made the drawing. "The girl is crying. You don't see me crying."

  "Well, you look so sad. Maybe you crying inside."

  "You can't see what's inside someone."

  "Yes you can, if you look long enough."

  "Amir, sometimes you talk weird." He laughed.

  "Who taught you to draw?" I asked.

  "No one. I just look at things real good. Then I draw them."

  I looked up at my window. "I better go in now. I don't feel like being under punishment this week."

  "Okay, Doris. See you later." Amir was the only person I didn't mind telling I had to be home straight from school. Or that I had to go in the house early.

  When I got up one flight of stairs, I ran right into my mother. She was carrying the baby.

  "I was so worried," she said. "I was coming to meet you. You heard about that boy?"

  "Yes, Mama." I wondered how she knew about it when she was stuck up in the house all day. I was glad I got in before she went out looking for me. That's all I needed was for her to meet me at school like I was five years old.

  I couldn't eat dinner that night. The rice tasted like hard little stones. Like those stones in the playground.

  My father said, "Guess we don't have to tell you now about that playground."

  "No, Daddy."

  "I don't want you going anywhere. You stay in front the house," my mother said.

  "But Ma, I won't go to the playground. You mean I can't even go round the corner to the candy store, or over to Union Avenue, or...."

  "No. Just go to school and come home. And if you must go outside then stay in front the house."

  I looked at my father. He looked like he wasn't enjoying his food either. "Your mother's right. Just stay here on the block."

  "But that's like being in jail."

  "Yes, baby. This is jail. You just didn't know it."

  "What do you mean, Daddy? No one is forcing us to stay here."

  My parents looked at each other. "Someday when you grow up, you'll understand what we mean. We are forced to stay here."

  I couldn't sleep that night. I saw that boy's face on the ceiling—on the wall. I turned the light on and hoped my parents wouldn't wake up. They'd start fussing about the light bill and make me turn it off.

  I pulled out the crumpled paper with Amir's drawing. I tried to think about something good—som
ething nice—about Amir.

  I went straight home after school was out the next day. I ran into the house and changed to my old dungarees. This way soon as my homework was finished I could go back out.

  "Ma, I finished my homework. I'm going out now, okay?"

  "Yes. But you stay right in front this house."

  When I got downstairs no one was there. I looked up and down the street. Mickey and Dotty wasn't on their stoop either. Everyone is at Mr. Sam's candy store, I thought. I could see Mickey and Dotty fighting over a bag of barbecue potato chips, Russell gobbling up a double scoop of Italian ices.

  I looked up to my window and tried to think up a good excuse for leaving the stoop. There I was, bigger and taller than everyone else and still treated like a baby. I'd feel stupid if Mickey and them came and saw me sitting there. They'd know my mother told me not to leave the block. I figured I may as well go back upstairs. As I was leaving, Amir comes down the street.

  "Hey, Doris." He sat down.

  "You seen Mickey and Dotty?" I asked.

  "Yeah. They in the playground."

  "You mean after what happened yesterday they playing in there?"

  "The cops found the man who fired the gun," Amir said.

  "If I went in that playground, it make me think about that boy."

  "I know," Amir said. "I went there with Russell and them, but I left."

  "Let's talk about something else," I said. "Where'd you live before you came here, Amir?"

  "Brooklyn."

  "That's like a foreign country to me. We only go there in the summer when Daddy takes us to Coney Island. You miss your friends?"

  "I got new friends now."

  "That's not like the real friends you left," I said.

  "It ain't hard to make new ones," he said.

  "Boy, Amir, I just don't see how you could've been in reform school. It must've been terrible."

  "It was lonely. You get used to it."

  "How come you so different from the other boys, Amir?"

  He laughed. "I'm different?"

  "You don't know you different?"

  "Why everybody got to be alike, Doris?"

  "Well, people laugh at you when you different or strange. Like I hate it because I can't do what Mickey and them be doing. Since that boy's been shot my mother don't want me to be nowhere but in front this house."

  "At least you out. Mickey and them ain't doing nothing special."