“Talk, son!” Mr. Smith ordered.
Robin talked.
He started all the way back in grade school, when Tyrone Davis had first called him Shrimp. He confessed how Tyrone and Dodo were shaking him down for homework the same way the Ninth Street Rangers shook down the Shrimp Shack. He talked about how he felt when the Shrimp Shack got trashed. He explained how he, Sly, and Kaykay tried to raise money to save the Center, but how it was impossible.
He told how weak he felt when he’d paid protection money to the Rangers, and how angry he was when he saw the Ranger drug lookout through his window, hiding something across the street.
“I can’t ’zactly explain it, Mr. Smith,” Robin said softly. “It was like somethin’ or someone tellin’ me, ‘Robin Paige, this be your moment. You can either let it go or take it.’ ”
He looked at his friends somberly and then at Mr. Smith. “I took it.”
“You sure did,” Mr. Smith responded. “You done took a chance, and you done took a gang’s money. You know what they gonna do when they find out?”
Robin nodded grimly. “That can’t happen.”
Mr. Smith rocked a little from side to side. “Leastways you did one smart thing. Givin’ it here ’stead of spending it all over the neighborhood.” He turned to Sly and Kaykay. “Whatchu kids think of all this?”
Kaykay spoke with her usual bluntness. “What Robin did with the money is dope. Tyrone and Dodo’s homework? Reverse dope.”
Mr. Smith looked at Sly. “What about you? Wouldn’t your daddy, the preacher man, say your boy, Robin, is a thief? That stealin’ is a sin? An’ that he helped your two classmates steal, in a way?”
Robin saw Sly bristle. “Mr. Smith, you old. I ain’t afraid to say that. You don’t know how it be out there. What Tyrone and Dodo be doin’, makin’ Robin do their homework? What the Rangers be doin’, tellin’ Robin’s grandma to pay them off and then wreckin’ her shop when she don’t? Sellin’ drugs on every corner? Messin’ up the hood? They be the sinners! Not Robin! That’s what my daddy would preach about!”
Wow. That was amazing. Sly sounded just like his daddy!
Mr. Smith rubbed the bristle on his chin with his right hand and then checked to make sure the door was tightly closed. In fact, he locked it.
“Don’t want no one comin’ in for what I gotta say,” he explained. “You kids, sit. My legs be weary.”
Mr. Smith ambled to a folding chair and put himself in it ass-backward, resting his thin arms on the back of the chair. Robin and the other kids got chairs near him.
“Would you do it again, Robin?” Mr. Smith suddenly asked.
The question took Robin by surprise. “ ’Scuse me?”
Mr. Smith raised his thin eyebrows. “It’s not a tough question. Would you do it again?”
“You mean, take money from the bad guys like the Rangers to save a place like the Center?” Robin fired back. “Fo’ sho’, Mr. Smith. I’d do it a hundred times! I hope I get a chance to do it all over again!”
Mr. Smith chuckled lightly. “Well then. Looks like you making yo’self out to be a regular Robin Hood. Stealin’ from the rich, an’ givin’ to the poor.”
Robin hesitated. “You’re not gonna get me in trouble?
Mr. Smith stood and balanced on his cane. “Here’s what I gotta say. I been in this hood a long time. I ’member what it was, and I know what it could be. It ain’t gonna ever be that with the Rangers around. I’ve had my own … my own problems with the gangs.”
“You didn’t have gang problems,” Sly declared. “No way, no how!”
“I did, and I’ll tell you kids ’nother time,” Mr. Smith said. “Just know as much as you hate them gangbangers? I hate ’em more. Now, what Robin did with their money was dangerous, an’ I can’t encourage you kids to do more dangerous things.”
Mr. Smith let the thought hang in the air as he gazed down at each of the kids in turn. To Robin, it felt like Mr. Smith wasn’t just looking at him, but through him, right to the very core of his soul.
“But … if you do decide to do the Robin Hood thing?” Mr. Smith repeated. “Well then, you got a partner in me. And it never hurts to have someone on your side who can pick any lock in the world. I’ll see you kids later.”
He limped out and closed the door behind him. For a moment, the kids looked at each other. Then Sly started dancing, waving his arms like the biggest hip-hop artist in Ironwood, Tone Def.
Robin in da house, Robin in da hood!
Robin in da house, Robin in da hood!
Doin’ all the things dat he think
he should!
Taking from the bad guys,
givin’ to the good,
He my main man, Robin in da hood!
Kaykay laughed. “Robin in da hood. I like that.”
“Well, sure,” Sly switched to his normal voice. “ ’Cause he be a regular Robin Hood, and we be his Merry Gentlemen—and Merry Gentlewoman, I guess.” He peered at Robin. “We really gonna steal from the rich, give to the poor? ’Cause if you want to, I’m in.”
Robin was thoughtful. “If we do, we only steal from bad people. You can be rich and be a good person. Like you gonna be someday, Sly.”
Sly smiled. “You got that right. So, what’s our first job gonna be? And who’s gonna get the money?”
Before he answered, Robin turned to Kaykay.
“You in?” he asked.
She nodded. Robin nodded back, then answered Sly. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe we lay low for a little bit. But I do know the community clinic is in trouble, and my grandma goes there for her doctor.”
“Sounds good,” Sly said. “Now, can we get out of this stinky room?”
Kaykay shook her head. “Go on. I gotta talk to Robin for a sec.”
Sly took off. It was just Robin and Kaykay now.
“You did good, Robin,” she said gently.
“We all did good.”
Then Kaykay did something shocking. She leaned in and kissed Robin softly on the cheek.
He felt hot blood rush to his head. He never, ever thought that she would ever—
Knock-knock-knock.
Three loud raps on the door broke the moment.
“Who’s in there?!”
It was Sarge. Robin sheepishly opened the door.
“What are you doin’ in there?” the head of the Center demanded.
“Talkin’ ’bout a school assignment,” Kaykay said quickly.
Assignment. That reminded Robin—he still had the Bud, Not Buddy vocab assignment to do for tomorrow. For himself and for Tyrone and Dodo.
“Well, talk later and join the fun,” Sarge told them. “We’re plannin’ a big party for tomorrow. Christmas in September!”
Robin followed Kaykay out. Yes, there was a party to plan. But there was more to plan too. He needed to plan what to do with Tyrone and Dodo so he wouldn’t be doing their homework for the rest of his life. He needed to plan how to take more money from the Rangers without them getting wise to him. He needed to plan who should get that scrilla once he and his crew got hold of it.
After all, he wasn’t just Robin Paige anymore.
He was Robin in da hood.
Chapter Eleven
Tyrone? Dodo?”
It was free breakfast time on Wednesday morning, and Robin had just approached the football players’ table, with Tyrone and Dodo’s homework in hand.
He’d done it the night before, after telling his grandmother all about the “mystery donation” to the Center. She said the person who donated the money deserved a medal. Robin didn’t say a word about how he was that person. The fewer people who knew, the better.
Tyrone and Dodo’s Not Buddy vocab assignment was perfect. A-plus quality.
There’s only one problem with it, Robin thought as he waited for a dumb football dude to finish the dirty joke he was telling. It’s exactly the same words, the same definitions, and the same sample sentences on both of them.
“Commenc
e,” meaning “to start.” From page five.
“Centipede,” meaning “a long bug with a lot of legs.” From page eighteen.
“Loathsome,” meaning “worthy of disgust.” From page one hundred thirty-six. For the sample sentence for “loathsome,” Robin almost wrote, “Tyrone and Dodo are two loathsome dudes.” Then he decided not to. It would be bad enough when Simesso saw their homework. They’d be so, so busted.
Well, I did what they asked me to do!
When the dirty joke ended, and the laughter wound down, Tyrone cleared his throat to get the guys’ attention.
“Umm, Tyrone? Dodo? I got your, um, homework.”
Tyrone glanced in his direction. “Yo! It’s the shrimp! You comin’ out for football? Know what? We could make you the kickoff tee!”
The other players cracked up. Robin seethed but tried to look afraid. He wanted to sucker these dudes so bad.
“You got our homework, Shrimp-tee?” Dodo asked.
“Uh-huh. I did one, just like you asked.” Robin’s voice quavered as he handed them each a folded sheet of notebook paper. Then he faced the other players, who were watching this scene with interest. “They asked me to do one for them.”
“That’s ’zactly right. One for us both!” Dodo shoved his homework inside his copy of Bud, Not Buddy. “That’s ’cause Shrimp be our beeyotch.”
“Shrimp be a good beeyotch. Get out of here, Shrimp,” Tyrone ordered.
Mr. Simesso’s class was first period again. Everyone put their homework on his desk and then sat to read a handout about Christopher Paul Curtis. Meanwhile, the teacher thumbed through their assignments. Robin read eagerly how the author of Bud, Not Buddy had worked on a car assembly line for years before he became a writer. There were pictures. Christopher Paul Curtis had dreadlocks in one of them.
I never knew an author could have dread—
Suddenly, Mr. Simesso’s voice rang out.
“Tyrone Davis! Riondo Moore! Come up to my desk!”
The class ooh’d and tittered as Tyrone and Dodo made their way to the front. Before the two even got near his desk, Mr. Simesso went off on them.
“Gentlemen? If you’re going to cheat? Cheat smart! Why would you turn in the exact same assignment, in the exact same handwriting? How stupid do you think I am? Or are you gentlemen just brain dead?”
The class laughed hard. Robin saw Kaykay and Sly grinning.
Dodo and Tyrone were so busted.
“You’re getting zeros,” Mr. Simesso told the two guys. “Do this again, you go to the principal. Now, sit down and try to have an original thought!”
Everyone tittered again as Tyrone and Dodo returned to their seats.
Tyrone growled at Robin as he passed by. “You think you so smart? We gonna git you, Shrimp!”
Sly suddenly spoke up. “It’s get, Tyrone. Not ‘git.’ ‘Get.’ G-E-T. As in, ‘Tyrone Davis, why don’chu get a life?’ ”
The class cracked up one more time.
Tyrone whirled at Sly. “I’m gonna git you too!”
Mr. Simesso banged his hand on his desk. “Tyrone and Riondo, in your seats! Everyone, do your work!”
The class quieted. Robin looked at Sly, so grateful that his ace had backed him up. Sly looked back at him and mouthed, “I hope you know what you doin’!”
Robin nodded. He knew what he was doing. Tyrone and Dodo were two scary dudes, for sure. But he was dreaming up a brilliant plan that could stop them in their tracks.
Let them try, he thought. We’ll be ready.
“Dude, I want to thank you one more time,” Robin told Sly. He, Sly, and Kaykay were walking north on Garvey toward the Center. “That was so def, standing up to Tyrone and Dodo like that.”
“Hey, man. We’re partners now,” Sly assured him. Then he banged his knuckles twice against his own forehead. “Course, maybe I just had some temporary insanity.”
Kaykay shook a finger at them. “It’s not funny, dudes. Whatchu gonna do if Tyrone and Dodo come after you? You gonna let them jack you up?”
They were nearing the Center. Robin saw that a new banner had been stretched over the entrance:
THE CENTER IS SAVED!
MERRY XMAS IN SEPTEMBER!
“I got a plan. I’ll tell you after the party,” Robin promised his friends.
“Tell us now,” Sly insisted.
Robin shook his head. “Nope. Let’s have fun and not worry ’bout Tyrone and Dodo. I got them covered.”
He thought he had them covered. He’d realized that if those dudes came after him and Sly, he’d remind them that he had Tyrone’s science term paper rubric—the one with Tyrone’s name on the front. If he went with it to the principal, or even Mr. Simesso, that could get Tyrone kicked off the football team easy. Maybe even kicked out of school. If Tyrone and Dodo really pushed it? He could always slip that rubric under the fake paver across the street from the Shrimp Shack, down in the same hole he’d found the Rangers’ money. It had Tyrone’s name in big letters on the front. The Rangers would think Tyrone had come back and left a calling card.
They’d mess him up. Bad.
No way would Tyrone risk that.
They pushed through the throng at the front door. Even though it was Wednesday afternoon, the Center was packed. While the kids had been in school, the place had been decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments. There was even a silver Christmas tree inside the front door. A buffet had been set up in the main entrance. Miz Paige had sent over some shrimp. Robin also saw ham, turkey, vegetables, pies, and a huge cake in the shape of Santa Claus. A boom box played Christmas music.
Robin and his friends went to the rec room. It was party central. Folks of all ages were dancing to the same old Motown that Miz Paige played in the Shrimp Shack. The kids stared at the old people busting moves like they were still teenagers. Sarge was the deejay. He saw the kids and gave a huge wave. Robin waved back.
Kaykay leaned in so Robin could hear over the loud music. “This is all ’cause of you, you know!”
“ ’Cause of all of us!” Robin shouted back.
“Nope. ’Cause of you!” Kaykay insisted. The music shifted to something low and slow. “You wanna dance with me, Robin?”
He definitely wanted to dance with Kaykay. It would be a dream come true. But he saw Sly standing alone. Robin didn’t want to leave his ace hanging.
“Dance with Sly,” Robin suggested. “I’m gonna find Mr. Smith.”
“You dancin’ with me later, Robin,” Kaykay scolded.
Robin grinned wildly. “I got a choice?”
“Nope!”
Kaykay took Sly’s arm and led him onto the dance floor. Sly looked like he’d just died and gone to Christmas-in-September heaven.
Robin felt great. The Center was saved. He had a plan for Tyrone and Dodo. Kaykay liked him. She liked him a lot.
Suddenly—out of nowhere!—his grandmother’s words from the day before yesterday roared back at him.
“You play with fire, you get yo’self burned!”
Robin gulped, the good feelings shooting out of him like air from a popped balloon. He was playing with fire all over the place. He was sassing Tyrone and Dodo. He was thinking about stealing more gang money. If they didn’t want to get burned, he and his crew had to be careful.
Super careful.
Okay. He steadied himself. We can do that.
“Hey there, Robin in the hood.”
Mr. Smith had come up behind him. He was wearing a tie for the party, though he’d loosened it so it hung down low. “How be the secret superhero? This jus’ the beginning!”
Robin allowed himself to smile. Mr. Smith was right. It was just the beginning. He and his friends would have to be crazy careful, but there was so much good that they could—
“Robin Paige!”
Robin turned around. Two beefy guys— one white, one black—stood with folded arms. They wore identical black pants, white shirts, and blue windbreakers, with IRONWOOD PD in huge yellow letters o
n the back.
“Can we help you?” Mr. Smith asked the men.
Both guys flashed silver badges that made Robin’s knees weak.
“Officer Goodall, Ironwood police,” the black guy said.
“Office Leedham, Ironwood PD,” the white guy barked. “Robin Paige, you’re coming with us!”
The two cops grabbed Robin’s arms.
“What’d I do?” Robin shouted, panicked. “What’d I do?”
The cops didn’t answer; they just dragged him toward a side door. As they did, Robin saw his friends quit dancing and stare with shock at what was happening.
What do they want with me? Where are they taking me?
“Am I under arrest?” Robin gasped.
The cops said nothing, just tightened their grips on his arm.
“Answer me!” Robin screamed, twisting this way and that.
“You let that boy go!” Mr. Smith demanded.
“Get out of my face, you old geezer!” The white guy shoved Mr. Smith away.
Oh my God! Robin had a scary thought. What if these aren’t real cops? What if the Rangers figured out I’d taken the money and sent fake cops to grab me and take me to them? I’m gonna die!
“Help!” Robin yelled to his friends and Mr. Smith, who were trailing behind him and the huge cops. “Don’t let these dudes take me away!” Robin screamed as the two beefy guys dragged him through the side door. “Help! Help mee-eeee!”
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