by Sharon Flake
″Just some stuff,″ I say, walking out of the room to get my jacket.
Momma doesn’t ask what kind of stuff. It ain’t that she don’t care. She just ain’t ready to look or listen to Daddy again. She shoves the pictures back in the box, and puts the box on the shelf. I kiss Momma good-bye, and soon she’s in the sewing room, threading the needle. By the time I shut the front door, all I hear is that sewing machine going like crazy.
CHAPTER 23
AT SCHOOL I SKIP LUNCH PERIOD, and go over to the library and hand in my stuff for the contest. The librarian says that over one hundred kids have entered this contest. I almost take back my entry when she tells me that. But then I start thinking about how much time I put into my writing. I ain’t got nothing to lose, I tell myself. I’m almost out the door when I see some books on the table. They’re poetry books, so I sit down and look at them for a while, and think about Daddy all over again.
Working in the principal’s office has got its benefits. You get to see and hear everything. Like parents coming in to tell Mr. Pajolli off. Juju came by today. She didn’t have an appointment. But she wouldn’t leave, so they pulled Miss Saunders out of class and got somebody else to cover her for a while.
Before Miss Carol can open her mouth to speak, Juju is screaming loud as anything. She’s saying her sister is failing because of Miss Saunders.
Mr. Pajolli comes rushing out of his office, asking JuJu to quiet down. He puts out his hand, and introduces himself. JuJu looks at his hand like dirt’s on it. She ain’t gonna shake it. He asks her to calm down. She won’t.
JuJu starts saying who she is and what she’s come for. She’s got on a skintight, fire-engine red dress that swishes like cheddar cheese on a grater every time she moves.
She’s banging her fist like a gavel on the front desk. She sticks her long, bony finger in Mr. Pajolli’s face and says, ″Before that woman came, Char got A’s. Now, all she gets is D’s. What’s up with that?″ she shouts.
JuJu’s right about Char’s bad grades. As soon as Miss Saunders came here, she separated me and Char’s seats. I guess she could see I was letting Char cheat off me. I ain’t been doing Char’s homework like I was, neither. Lately, I been making up excuses, saying Momma’s keeping me busy with chores, stuff like that.
Before Mr. Pajolli answers JuJu, JuJu is on to a new subject. ″Char’s all the time talking about that woman at home. Mostly how mean she is. And ugly. That teacher can’t be taking her problems out on my sister just ’cause she got burnt on the face or something.″
Mr. Pajolli asks JuJu to come into his office. ″No,″ JuJu says. She’s not leaving until she sees Miss Saunders. Mr. Pajolli finally tells Miss Carol to send for Miss Saunders.
Miss Saunders comes into the office with her head up and her grade book under her arm. She’s wearing red today, too. She seems calm, maybe because she’s never met JuJu before.
Mr. Pajolli waves his hand for JuJu to follow him to the office. JuJu shakes her head ″No. We ain’t hiding this behind no closed doors. I want this thing out in the open. Right is right, so let’s handle our business here,″ JuJu says.
Mr. Pajolli stands his ground. ″Business is handled in my office or not at all.″
JuJu’s still mouthing off but she follows behind Mr. Pajolli. ″This is Char’s third time in seventh grade,″ she’s saying. ″Char can’t afford to do no more time here. Her other teachers know that. They’re giving her the grades she needs to move up.″
Miss Saunders hands JuJu some papers. Most of them are incomplete, she says. Charlese would rather pass notes than do assignments, Miss Saunders tells her. JuJu eyes the papers.
I don’t know what happened next. Miss Carol told me to go get the janitor and tell him the principal wants him to clean up the mess in the boys’ room. Miss Carol could have called the janitor on the intercom. She wanted to get rid of me, is all. The next time I see JuJu, she’s stomping out of the office, saying Char better not flunk seventh grade. Her feet sound more like bowling balls falling to the ground than feet. Then all of a sudden she stops and stares Miss Saunders up and down. ″You don’t know what you’re doing. You never even taught kids before. You flunk my sister, you won’t teach nowhere else. I know people. Big-time people,″ she says, walking out of there.
CHAPTER 24
MISS SAUNDERS DOESN’T KNOW what she did, pissing off Charlese and JuJu. Now, all Char does is talk about getting back at Miss Saunders. She ain’t joking, neither.
Last year when the gym teacher flunked her, Char ripped a hole in the top of her convertible. Hot-glued another teacher’s grade book together when he told her sister she was missing too much class.
Me and Char and the twins are hanging out behind the school when Char says Miss Saunders is gonna get it the worst, that we’re gonna meet tomorrow at school at the crack of dawn to start messing up Miss Saunders. I’m watching the sky. Lightning is flashing across it like God is trying out his electricity. And the clouds are black, like rain’s gonna pour any minute.
I’m scared of storms. Char ain’t. She loves watching rain beat on people and lightning chase people inside. ″We gonna jack Miss Saunders up,″ she says, putting another coat of blueberry grape polish on her nails. ″I hate that ugly woman. Hate her.″
I think about telling Char about the conversation I heard between Miss Saunders and Tai in the auditorium, but I don’t. I ain’t no squealer. Never was, never will be.
″Give me five,″ Raina says, walking over to Char, ignoring me. ″What’s shaking?″
Char tells Raina how she’s gonna get even with Miss Saunders. ″It’s payback time,″ Char says, laughing out loud.
I ignore them and keep watching the sky.
″You know that big globe Miss Saunders got in her room? The one she says cost all that money. Well, that’s gonna be the first to go,″ Char says. ″Gonna carve that sucker in two like a Thanksgiving turkey.″
Raina and Raise slap each other five and talk about spray painting the walls.
″You gonna do all that, just because you got in-house detention?″ I ask. Char and the twins turn away from me. I swallow hard. ″You been on detention before, Char. Why you getting all crazy now?″ I ask.
Char keeps polishing her nails. ″Ain’t nobody ugly as Miss Saunders gonna be embarrassing me every time I turn around. Then go ragging on me to my sister JuJu. I can’t just let that go. Just wait. Tomorrow morning’s just the beginning.″
″I can’t get in no more trouble with Miss Saunders,″ I whisper.
″Shut up, Maleeka,″ Raise says. ″Char knows what she’s doing.″
″I sure do,″ Char says, throwing her nail polish at my head. The bottle misses me, but breaks open on the steps.
″I can’t get in no more trouble. That’s all I know,″ I whisper.
If things ain’t bad enough already, here comes John-John McIntyre and his crew. ″The sky’s gonna be as black as you in a minute, Maleeka,″ he says, looking up at the clouds. His friends think he’s funny. They laugh and give a few high fives. Then they start singing, ″Maleeka, Maleeka, we sure wanna keep her….″
″Shut up,″ Char yells. ″John-John McIntyre, I will kick your butt,″ she says, going after John-John.
″Jack up Char,″ one of his friends says. ″Who she think she is coming at you that way?″
John-John don’t say nothing. He just looks at Char with a stupid smirk on his face.
″See you later, Midnight,″ he says to me.
I can feel myself getting mad, my fists balling up at my sides.
Then I remember a poem about midnight that I seen in one of those poetry books at the library. The words of the poem come tumbling in my head, and I start to smile.
Midnight
At midnight, if you have eyes to see,
There’s beauty and there’s majesty.
Sweet brown babies tucked in tight,
Shooting stars bursting through the night.
Strong, sturdy trees reaching for the sky
>
Dancing and swaying to the moon’s lullaby.
Quiet waters. Silent nights.
Angels soaring toward the light.
At midnight, if you have eyes to see
There’s beauty and there’s majesty.
Char don’t understand what’s going on with me. She looks at me and calls me stupid, the way I’m smiling to myself. Then she tells John-John to shut his big, stupid mouth. He winks and keeps moving. But he’s still looking back at me, like he can’t figure out what’s got a hold of me.
Char’s saying something about how she’s gotta always look out for me, but I ain’t listening really. I’m saying that poem over in my head again and again.
Next thing I know, here comes Caleb. When Char sees him, she starts talking real proper, all up in his face, telling him how she likes his braids. Asking the name of that cologne he’s wearing.
″Hey, Maleeka,″ he calls to me, ignoring Char. Caleb sure looks good. And he smells even better. He’s got on a lime-green African dashiki with tiny golden swirls stitched on it. He and me just stand there, smiling at each other.
Char pushes herself between us. ″You can thank me for how good Maleeka looked,″ she says, snuggling up to Caleb. ″I bought them clothes for her. Gotta keep my girl looking good,″ she says, licking her lips.
Caleb tries to peel Char’s fingers off his arms. It ain’t easy, she’s holding on tight. ″I’ve been thinking some more about what we talked about in detention,″ Caleb says to me, finally getting Char off him and moving closer to where I am. ″I been thinking about changing things around here. Making things better,″ he says.
″What you mean, like scrubbing floors?″ I ask, wrinkling my nose.
″Some of us are getting together tomorrow to talk about ways to improve McClenton. You should come, Maleeka,″ he says, peeling Char’s hand off him again.
″Maleeka’s busy,″ Char snaps.
″Yeah,″ I say. ″Busy.″
″Come after you’re done then,″ Caleb says.
Char busts out laughing. ″Sure, Maleeka will come after she’s done. Me, too. I’m coming, too. We’re all gonna help save the school, right, Maleeka?″ she says, shoving me so hard I almost fall down.
I’m half listening. I’m trying to figure a way out of this mess. Ever since Char came up with this plan of ruining Miss Saunders, I been praying for God to give me a strong spirit like Akeelma’s and Kinjari’s.
″Listen up, Maleeka,″ Caleb says, grabbing hold of my arm, and whispering in my ear. ″Your girl Char is whacked. You better stay clear of her before she ends up taking you down with her.″
″Char and me are friends,″ I say quietly.
″Yeah, right,″ Caleb says, shaking his head. ″Char’s the kind of friend that will get you locked up or shot up,″ he says, walking away.
When Caleb is all the way down the street, I can still smell his cologne. I can still hear him warning me to stay clear of Char. He don’t know what he’s saying, though. You can’t just stop being Char’s friend. She don’t go for nothing like that.
″Maleeka, get over here.″ Char’s screaming at the top of her lungs, like I’m far away.
My heart starts beating fast and wild. I know Char’s plan ain’t gonna mean nothing but trouble for me. But I got to go along, anyhow. Nobody ever turns their back on Char. Not unless they’re tired of living or something stupid like that.
CHAPTER 25
I LAY AWAKE IN BED three whole hours before I sneak out of the house to meet Char. I keep trying to think of some reason I can give Char for not showing up. A good reason that Char will buy so I won’t get my butt kicked. But I’m too scared to think straight, so I put on my clothes and go.
It’s still kind of dark when I get to school. During school hours, the front door is locked and kids have to be buzzed in. But early in the morning like this, when the janitors and the folks who do the cooking are just making their way in, the door is unlocked.
We all meet by the side of the building and make sure it’s clear before we go in. I’m trying to tell Char I don’t think I want to do this, but she ain’t listening. She’s telling me to be quiet and to get going inside.
Raina, as stupid as she is, lets the door slam shut behind us.
″Who’s there?″ the janitor yells from one of the classrooms.
We don’t move. All four of us stand there like dummies ready to be caught. Lucky for us, the janitor ain’t much worried. He doesn’t bother to come and see what’s the matter. He just turns up his portable radio, and starts singing.
We laugh and tiptoe down the hallway right past the classroom where he is cleaning. Maybe this won’t be so bad, I think. Then we run up the steps, Char’s high heels sounding like hammers banging nails whenever she takes a step.
You would think Miss Saunders would lock up her room like the other teachers do. But she doesn’t. She told us once that this was our school, and we needed to take responsibility for it. That if things got destroyed, it was us that missed out, not nobody else.
Miss Saunders has redone her classroom, like she does for every new book we take on. Monday, we start Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.
Her classroom has got about a hundred ribbons hanging from the ceiling. Sheer puffy curtains are tacked to the walls. The room is full of purples, pinks, and greens. All them colors and curtains make the room look soft and safe.
Our desks are pushed up against the back wall, and lots of pillows, like they sit on in them Arabian movies, are scattered all over the place. Char throws herself down on the pillows and stretches out like she’s gonna be here awhile.
″Maybe we should go,″ I say. ″Miss Saunders has just done the room over. She’s gonna kill us for messing it up.″
Char rolls her eyes my way. ″Payback has got to cost something,″ she says, laughing.
I take a long, deep breath and look down at my clothes. I’m wearing the ones Momma made. Char’s got a bag in her hand with the clothes she’s gonna give me today. I want to tell her to keep the stuff. But I keep my mouth shut and take the bag.
The twins are the first to go into Miss Saunders’s desk. Raise grabs a bottle of glue and swirls a design on a red velvet pillow. Then she takes the gooey pillow and smears it cross the windows and walls.
Char lets out a low, mean laugh, and reaches up and yanks some curtains down. She tells Raise to hand her the scissors, then she jabs holes in the curtains. Raise and Raina stab the pillows, pull out the stuffing, and toss the feathers around the room.
Nobody notices me for a long while. I’m standing by the door staring till Char says, ″Get over here, Maleeka. You’re in on this too.″
I have to do something. They’ll think I’m chicken if I don’t. So I get Miss Saunders’s grade book out of the desk. Her watch is sitting there ticking loud as a clock. I close the drawer and erase a bunch of D’s in the book. I put A’s in their place.
″Is that it, Maleeka?″ Char says. ″You gotta do better than that. Get over here.″ She takes a lighter out of her pocket and hands it to me. She tells me to burn the pile of money on the table. It’s not the kind of money we use in this country. It’s some foreign money, with puffy-headed kings and queens wearing tall collars.
″I want all that money gone,″ Char says, heading back for the desk and digging around inside.
I don’t move. I stand real still.
″You hear me talking?″ Char asks. She digs around in the desk drawer, shoves something in her pocket, and dumps the drawer on the floor.
″This ain’t right,″ I whisper.
Char grabs hold of my hand, and says, ″Do it, or I ain’t never gonna bring you no clothes.″
I shake my head. ″No.″
″You protecting Miss Saunders?″ Char wants to know. ″You protecting that hussy? Why? She don’t like you, neither. All the time making a fool out of you in class. You stupid girl. Do like I say or I’ll do something to mess you up.″
I don’t say nothing. Even thoug
h Miss Saunders and I didn’t hit it off right away, she is still a teacher, I tell Char. She still runs the show.
Char grabs hold of my shoulder blade and squeezes till my knees get weak. ″Like I said, I will jack you up, girl. Do you hear me?″
While Char’s pinching my shoulder, she takes her baby finger and sticks it up her nose like a plug in a sink. She blows hard, sending a bunch of snot splattering over the money. ″Do what I say or I’m gonna do worse yet,″ she says, flicking her lighter’s flame close to my head.
I stare Char in the eyes. Momma always says you can tell a person by their eyes. Char’s eyes don’t have no life to them. They’re cold and hard like flat black skipping rocks you find at the bottom of the creek.
I shake my head. ″No, I ain’t doing it,″ I say softly. But Char squeezes my shoulder so hard, I hear my bones creak.
I grab the lighter with my other hand and set the money on fire. The kings and queens curl up, turn black, and disappear. There’s nothing but ashes on the table.
Char lets me loose, and heads over to the twins. I’m crying in the corner, wishing I could undo this whole school year. Wishing I could go back to being who I was, not somebody’s fool.
I’m rubbing my arm when I hear something popping and sizzling. It’s the curtains on the wall— they’re on fire!
″Girl, you in trouble now,″ Char says to me, her eyes wide.
″Shhh,″ Raise says, peeking out the door. ″Somebody’s out there. It’s the janitor. He’s around the corner, heading our way.″
″I’m outta here,″ Char says.
She’s the first to run. I’m the last. I’m grabbing hold of the bag of clothes she brought me. When I pick it up, the bag rips and the clothes fall out. I’m shoving them back in and trying to run at the same time. Clothes are dropping with every step I take. The janitor is yelling my name. ″Maleeka, Maleeka Madison. What you doing here?…Oh my Lord…. What have you done, girl?″