I don’t answer. She texts more.
I’m sorry. I should’ve told you what was going on. It’s my fault.
I don’t respond.
Listen, please. Sara and Darci got so mad at me because I canceled on going to the Mall of America with them. They spent all night Saturday taking nasty pictures at a party with everyone I know, sending them to me, saying I would never be their friend again.
I don’t respond.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. PLEASE. What if you thought you suddenly lost every last friend you ever had in your life?
I lie on my face.
And I hurt my knee again Saturday because I was in Minneapolis with you. I freaked out. I decided you were bad luck. I know that’s stupid. I feel terrible, man. Please. I’m sorry.
No. I am bad luck.
Are you there? Are you reading these? I see the texts are being delivered.
I don’t respond. There is a gap of about ten minutes where Carli writes nothing. And then this:
You know Barry Roland shot his dog a couple years ago, right?
What? I sit up.
I type into my phone:
What dog?
The Kinshaws’ dog. Barney. Barney died.
Barry Roland killed Barney the dog? I cannot believe this.
I stand. I go to the living room. Barry lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. His fluffy mustache face turns to me as I enter the room.
“Hey,” I say.
He shakes his head.
“Sorry,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment but then talks straight up to the ceiling. “Were you in bad danger today?” he asks.
“From Kase?” I ask. “I don’t know.”
“Did I lose self-control? Maybe I did? I don’t like Kase, even if he isn’t worth my time and heart. I’m mad at him for my whole life, but I can’t kick someone because I’m mad at them. That would go against my spiritual beliefs?” He turns and looks at me again. He isn’t wearing his big glasses. He squints to try to see me better.
“Kase was trying to hurt me. If it went on another second, I would have really tried to kill him, too. I lose my mind sometimes.”
“You do?” Barry asks.
“I have twice in my past. It was bad, because I hurt other kids.”
“Yeah?” Barry asks.
“Uh-huh. So you weren’t just kicking him because you were mad. You saved me today, from Kase and from myself, too.”
Barry exhales for a count of ten. He nods. “Okay, thanks.” But I don’t think he believes what I have said.
I sit down on the big chair next to the couch. I reach and grab the remote control. I put on the TV. There is a very old show on about four old ladies living in a house in Florida. It makes me laugh, because the oldest lady on the show reminds me of a Polish grandma. She is clever and has a dirty vocabulary. We watch until a commercial break. I turn off the sound.
Barry looks at me.
“Did you shoot Barney the dog?” I ask.
He sits up and pushes the big blanket off him. “I have never shot a gun in my whole life? I told them that already, okay? A thousand times.”
“Them? Kase?”
“And Greg and those girls and the police and everybody,” Barry says. “They don’t believe me.”
“This was two years ago?” I ask.
“Like almost three.”
“Why do they think you did it?” I ask.
Barry shuts his eyes. “Merle’s car.”
“What?”
“Merle drove me everywhere for a while, because Tiffany lost her license. A car like Merle had—stupid red Ford Taurus—was seen right by where Barney got shot, right by the Kinshaws’ place out in the country, but Merle was at the bar and everyone saw him there and he walked home . . .”
“Oh . . . did you drive Merle’s car?” I ask.
“No,” Barry says. He breathes out, then talks quietly. “But maybe Tara did.”
“Tara your sister?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
“Were you with her?” I ask.
Barry shakes his head. “But Kase picked on me so bad? She doesn’t like people picking on me.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“No. No, it is not good. She is not good, okay?”
“Did she have a gun?” I ask.
“Tara worked at Scheels in Mankato. They have a lot of guns there? She used to go hunting with our dad when I was really little? She knows how to shoot.”
“Oh,” I say. “Tara?”
Barry nods slowly. “Another reason why I am in tae kwon do. I don’t want to be bad like Tara,” Barry says. Then he says, “I don’t know if she did it, really.”
Renata comes out of her room, even though it’s late. She wears a University of Pennsylvania sweatshirt and big sweatpants. Her hair is messed up, like she has already been asleep. She smiles but looks sad. “You guys okay?” she asks.
“If you don’t throw me out on the street, I’ll be okay,” I say.
Renata shakes her head. “I would never, never do that, Adam. This is your home . . . wherever I am is your home.”
“Because you’re the best mom there is,” Barry says. “That’s why.”
He has put no question mark sound at the end of those sentences.
FORTY-SEVEN
THE LAST MONDAY
It is Monday. I don’t want to go to school. I almost didn’t sleep all night. When I did sleep, I had my bad dream. I worry this will be the day I find out about charges against me. I worry I will join Khalil, get kicked off the Fury.
Barry and I climb into his shit car. I have to go to school. Renata is right, I missed school last week and homework doesn’t stop coming just because I am a criminal. “You have to stay focused on your main job,” Renata tells me.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Student. Duh,” she says.
She isn’t calling me names, just reminding me of the truth. There is chemistry to deal with and a book called The Red Badge of Courage in English.
Barry is also a mess. He went home Sunday afternoon, but Tiffany told him to go away. He has caused her too much trouble. “She’s done with me,” Barry said during Sunday dinner.
“I think she’s legally bound to care for you,” Professor Mike replied. “You’re sixteen? You’re a minor?”
Barry looked down at the kielbasa sausage on his plate. “I’ll actually be eighteen in May?” he said.
“But you’re a sophomore?” Professor Mike said.
Barry nodded.
“You’re not an adult yet. This isn’t right,” Renata said.
“Uh-oh,” Professor Mike said. “You’re almost an adult.”
“You can stay here as long as you need to,” Renata said.
Professor Mike stared at her with big eyes.
“I went to kindergarten a year late?” Barry tells me as we drive to school. “And then they wouldn’t let me pass first grade because I couldn’t recognize letters? I can now, though.”
“That’s good,” I say. “That’s dope.”
“Yeah,” he says. He is nervous like I am. I think he has tied his karate headband on extra tight. Who would want to go back to this school after what happened at Jonny B’s?
When we enter the school, my biggest worry is seeing Kase Kinshaw. He is not in the entryway and he is not in the commons area, sitting at the table where he often does. He is nowhere to be seen. My second-biggest worry is seeing Carli, because I didn’t return her texts after I asked Barry about Barney the dog. I can’t deal with her. She is not in the commons. Sara and Darci are there, though, huddled over a table.
I walk faster. Barry keeps up. We turn a corner, to the spot where we have to split up and go to our separate parts of the building. Right then, Derrick Oppegaard, who pounds the drum in the pep band, runs up to us.
“Dudes,” he says. “Holy balls. You kicked Kase Kinshaw’s ass!”
I shake my head, because
I know how Barry is feeling.
“Yeah, you did! My cousin was at the movie theater, and she took a picture of Barry getting tackled by these big guys. It’s because you kicked Kase’s ass!”
“Bouncers tackled Barry,” I say.
“I didn’t want to kick his ass,” Barry says. He reaches up and pulls on his karate headband.
“He deserves it. He’s a butt munch.”
“A what?” I ask.
Barry pulls his karate headband off. “I have to go to my class?” he says. He scurries away fast, holding his headband in his hand.
All day, I see no Kase Kinshaw. He isn’t at school. Greg Day isn’t at school, either. Carli is. I see her between classes in the afternoon. She stops in the hall. Stares at me. Spreads out her arms in a gesture that maybe says, What are you doing, you dumbass? Because I’m right here . . .
The bell rings. I don’t see her again.
And then at home, there is a big, big relief waiting for us on the voice mail. There will be no charges against me and Barry, because an old man who was with his granddaughter in Jonny B’s said the little guy (Barry) was protecting the tall guy (me) from getting beat up by the big guy (Kase). That was all the Mankato police needed. They closed the file.
I’m not sure why there are no charges against Kase, though. Didn’t the grandpa say the big guy was beating up the tall guy?
It doesn’t matter. I ask Renata to look at the D-I Fury Conduct Contract. She reads it and says I am clear. I have not broken any stated rule. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t drink. And I wasn’t arrested. Unlike Khalil, I have basketball.
To celebrate no charges, Barry and I go running on the Red Jacket Trail. It rains, but Barry runs barefoot. He doesn’t talk the whole way. He sleeps on our couch. Renata washes his clothes, because he only has one pair of jeans.
Barry doesn’t seem like he’s in any mood to celebrate.
FORTY-EIGHT
3:17 A.M.
“I like Barry, but do you really have the resources to take care of him?”
I hear the voice, a whisper, coming through the wall. I look at the clock on the little table next to my bed. It is 3:17 a.m.
I can hear Renata talking, but her voice is too quiet to understand.
“I have two daughters, Renata, and so much emotional responsibility already.”
The voice is Professor Mike. He is in Renata’s room. Renata says something more. She sounds stressed out.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I have to think about this,” Professor Mike says.
Our house creaks. I hear him leave her room. I hear him walk softly down the hall. I hear the front door shut quietly. There goes Professor Mike, I think. He is going away from us. There goes Regan and Margery.
FORTY-NINE
THE LAST TUESDAY
On our car ride to school Tuesday, Barry tells me many kids came up to him to congratulate him the day before. This has made him even more sad. He is not wearing his karate headband now. He says he doesn’t deserve the honor of wearing his karate headband, because he kicked Kase Kinshaw out of hatred.
“What about protecting me? Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”
Barry says, “Yeah, okay, but honestly I really wanted to kick Kase, too, therefore I disgraced my teacher and shamed this holy place.”
“We were in Mankato. That’s not holy.”
“The holy place is a line from an old TV show called Kung Fu.” Barry sighs. “The holy place is wherever you are.”
Once again, the school contains no Greg Day and no Kase Kinshaw. In many ways, this is better. In one way, it is maybe not so good. Barry Roland wants to tell Kase Kinshaw that he’s sorry. He wants to ask for his forgiveness. Of course I think this is stupid.
Carli Anderson is at school. I try to avoid her not because I am mad, but because I don’t know what to say. We pay for our bad choices. Me and Carli are now broken. Life is hard, and you can’t count on people. That’s what I said to Renata at breakfast. She shook her head at me like I am crazy.
Carli has different thoughts than I have, too.
During chemistry, where I receive an F on the quiz I took the week before, Carli comes in. Mr. Burton stops the class, whispers to her, then motions for me to come to the front of the room. I don’t leave my desk. “Come on, Adam Reed, move,” Mr. Burton says. So I uncurl and go up front.
“You know Carli, I imagine,” Mr. Burton says.
I nod.
“Carli and I ran into each other at the yearbook bake sale this morning and somehow ended up on the subject of you. You both play for the same college-bound basketball organization?” he asks.
Again, I nod. College-bound? I don’t know about that.
“What is it called?” he asks.
Both Carli and I say, “The Fury.”
I look at her.
She says, “D-I Fury, for Division I college prep.”
“Aha,” Mr. Burton says. He turns to me. “And Carli tutors Division I Fury players in math and science. Isn’t that right?”
“Uh-huh?” I say.
“Yes. That is true,” Carli says slowly, looking to the side and also blushing. She sounds exactly like she is lying.
“So why aren’t you taking advantage of her services, Adam? She’s a very good science student. She knows this material. She could really help you.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Well, how about this?” Mr. Burton says. “You have no choice in the matter now. The only way you’re going to pass this class is if you get help. I’m going to require you to work on chemistry with Carli for two hours a week for the rest of the semester.”
“Oh,” I say.
“If you do, I’ll give you extra-credit points, but my guess is you won’t need them. You’re smart enough to do this. I think the reading slows you down.”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“Go out in the hall and make a schedule.” Mr. Burton points at the door. Carli’s face breaks into a big smile.
But out in the hall the big smile drops from her face. She turns and pokes me in the chest hard.
“I like you,” she says. “I’m sorry I messed up. Do you like me?” she asks.
I am stunned and words are stuck in my mouth.
“Do you, Farmer? Do you?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Then accept my stupid apology and get over it,” she says.
I don’t respond. She pokes me hard.
Barry once accepted my apology. Haven’t I said I should be more like Barry?
“Okay?” I say.
“Okay,” she says. “We’ll meet Friday and Sunday for chemistry and whatever other shit we want to go over, because we’re buddies and that’s what we do. Spend quality time together. Do you understand?” she says.
“Okay. Okay. Yeah,” I say.
She leans. She whispers, “I am a person, and I make stupid mistakes sometimes. I’m really, really sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Now go tell Burton we have this all figured out, please.”
“Okay,” I say.
Then she is gone. There is no limp as she walks. Just big, powerful strides and the lingering smell of honey in the hall.
Before I go back into the room, I text Khalil:
You were right. Carli is ok.
I hope he sees it so he knows I am thinking of him.
FIFTY
11:26 P.M.
The phone buzzes in my hand. It startles me, because I am asleep on the couch. Barry has taken my bedroom for the night. He looked so tired at dinner, Renata suggested he could use some privacy. He said no, but I said yes.
I fall back asleep, but the phone buzzes again. How do people ever sleep enough after they get phones?
I look at the screen. It is Khalil. I sit up fast. I am so happy to hear from him. The phone buzzes again and again. All from Khalil!
Sorry didn’t text back, bro. Mom took phone for few days cuz trouble.
You hear about trou
ble? It’s bull but bad.
Mr. Doig won’t let me play. Says I’m terminated.
I text as fast as I can, so he knows I am here.
What happened????
I can see on my phone that Khalil is typing. It takes a long time for this message to show up.
Cuz my little bro lonnie got accused of stealing cheetos and it wasn’t him but he had on the same hoodie as the kid and of course he black and cop thought it was lonnie so they chased him to the house and when they banged on the door, I said lonnie you gotta talk to them and tell them what you know, but he was shaking and shit and I got scared as shit too so how can I blame the little dude for that? Lonnie wouldn’t talk and I opened the door and don’t know why but I told the cop lonnie was unavailable to talk but lonnie was lying on the floor crying right behind me and then another cop showed up and he was pissed and they arrested me for obstructing justice dude. Even before we got to the station they got the actual kid for steeling cheetos and they let lonnie go but not me cuz I was obstructing justice even though there was no justice situation at all!! City attorney to decide next week if they pursue the charge against me. Stupid lonnie just had to talk to that cop and it woulda been fine but lonnie what can I say? Mom told us to stay away from cops cuz they will mess with us and maybe worse. Shit, bro. Mr. Doig says I’m just a thug criminal now I guess because I broke the contract. I think I am kicked off for good.
I sit for a moment on the couch and stare at this message. My guts turn and my eyes hurt. I remember what Tasha Tolliver said in the hot tub. Trouble is out looking for all black kids right now . . . but isn’t trouble looking for me, too? Isn’t trouble looking for Barry? I almost type back about how the cops took me and Barry in on Saturday because we got in a fight, but then two things come into my brain at one time.
First, the cops just let us go. No arrest. No nothing. There was a real justice situation, right? Kase Kinshaw grabbed and ripped my 76ers shirt and he punched my ribs. I got a bruise like my dad used to give me. Then Barry Roland kicked two guys. If Khalil gets in trouble for trying to be nice to his little brother, shouldn’t me, Barry, and Kase be in much bigger trouble? It makes no sense!
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