by Peggy Kern
It’s dead here, he thought as he hurried toward the playground where three figures stood on the corner, watching him.
Harold swallowed hard. He felt as if he was about to cross into a place of no return. His knees trembled. This is it, he thought, forcing himself forward.
“What’chu want, sausage?” Jupiter snapped as he stepped forward from the group.
“Yeah,” added the tall thin boy standing behind him. His top lip was swollen. The youngest boy, whom Harold remembered from SuperFoods, swung his arms absentmindedly.
“I’m lookin’ for Londell,” said Harold, trying to sound confident. “He said I could find him here. ”
Jupiter charged up to Harold, his face just inches away. “Well, he ain’t here,” he growled, jabbing a sharp finger into Harold’s chest, “so go back to Grandma’s. ” Harold could feel his hot breath on his face.
“I gotta see Londell,” Harold insisted, holding Jupiter’s gaze. “It’s important. ”
“Yo Keenan, this boy think Londell his friend or somethin’,” Jupiter said with a smirk to the tall, thin boy. “Maybe he got a crush on him. ”
This was a mistake, Harold thought. They’re gonna jump me and leave me for dead.
“Nah, man. I just gotta talk to him,” Harold said quickly. “Londell said—”
“I don’t care what he said!” Jupiter snarled, jabbing Harold’s chest again. “He ain’t here, and when he ain’t here, I’m in charge. This my corner. So get off. ”
“Yeah,” said Keenan. “This is Joop’s corner. ”
“I’m not leaving till I see Londell,” Harold insisted, bracing himself for another shove.
Jupiter’s eyes blazed with anger. “How ’bout I make you leave, boy?”
“Joop, I’m hungry!” the young boy suddenly blurted, distracting Jupiter long enough for Harold to back away.
“When we gonna eat?”
“Quit botherin’ me, Bug. ” Jupiter snapped, shaking his head in frustration. “Now you see why we call him that, Kee? He never stop buggin’. You’ll eat when Londell get here,” Jupiter added, turning back to the boy.
“But I’m hungry now,” Bug persisted, squirming and holding his stomach. Up close, Bug looked even younger to Harold, maybe just eight years old. He had a small round face and wide puppy-like eyes. His short, stocky body reminded Harold of a baby bulldog.
“What’chu want me to do? Make you dinner or something?” Jupiter said with an annoyed glare. “You’ll eat when Londell git here. ”
“But I’m starvin’, Joop,” he complained. “And we ain’t even start work yet. ”
Jupiter rolled his eyes. “Boy, this ain’t no foster home. Getcha own food if you that hungry. ”
Harold cringed. He remembered what Londell said about each of them. No family. The words took on new meaning as he looked at the hungry kid next to him.
“I got a sandwich,” Harold said quietly, reaching into his backpack.
“Shut up!” Jupiter snapped.
“For real?” said Bug, his eyes widening.
Harold smiled. “You like peanut butter and jelly?”
“Yeah!” he answered, bouncing over to Harold’s side.
“Yo, this boy just pulled out a sandwich!” exclaimed Jupiter between fits of laughter. “Bet he got a whole damn dinner in there, too!”
Keenan laughed and slapped Jupiter’s hand in agreement. “Yeah. He look like he hidin’ a whole chicken in there. Maybe a turkey. ”
“What’s for dessert, yo!” Jupiter screamed, cackling loudly. He and Keenan were laughing so hard they could barely stand.
Jupiter was nothing like the kid Harold remembered from middle school. Back then, he was almost as quiet as Harold. Everything changed the afternoon in seventh grade when his father was murdered. The principal had barged into class and asked Jupiter to come to the office. Seconds later, Harold heard Jupiter’s scream in the hallway. The sound made Mrs. Kirby, their teacher, drop the chalk in her hand. They were twelve years old.
Harold had tried to become Jupiter’s friend after that; he knew how hard it was to grow up without a dad. But Jupiter returned to school ten days later with a wild look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was impossible to talk to Jupiter after that. He started acting out in school, fighting with classmates and even cursing at teachers if they called on him in class. Once, in a fit of rage, he punched a gymnasium window, shattering the glass and cutting his hand badly. Harold stayed away from him after that.
Now, standing at the edge of the abandoned playground, Harold saw that same wild look still lurking in Jupiter’s eyes.
“Ain’t nobody want you here,” Jupiter continued.
“Yo, Joop, they comin’ out already!” Keenan interrupted, pointing down the street. In the distance, someone was walking toward them.
“Who’s that?” Harold asked nervously.
“Junkies,” said Bug between bites of his sandwich. There was a smear of jelly on his chin.
The sun was beginning to set and Harold squinted toward the orange glare. The figure was getting closer. It was a small, thin man. His dirty clothes hung limply from his body.
This is crazy! Harold thought. I shouldn’t be here.
“I gotta go,” he whispered out loud. He looked at Bug, who wandered toward an old house with boarded-up windows.
Suddenly, Harold heard the low rumble of a car approaching.
“Londell comin’!” Bug exclaimed as the gold Nissan pulled up to the curb. Londell rolled down his window and smiled at Harold.
“Well, look who it is,” he said with an approving nod.
“Hey,” Harold said, feeling a bit safer with Londell nearby.
“Yo Londell, why you tell him to come here?” said Jupiter, nudging Harold as he jumped into the front seat of the car.
Londell kept his eyes on Harold. “Get out, Joop,” he said. “C’mere, Harold. ”
“Why you gotta be like that?” Jupiter protested.
Londell tossed him a brown paper bag. “Get to work. We got a line already. ”
Jupiter climbed out and shot Harold an angry glare, shoving the paper bag down the front of his pants.
Harold tried to stay calm as he sat next to Londell, but he felt like hiding under the seat and covering his eyes.
“Yo, Londell,” said Bug, circling over to the passenger window with a big grin. “Whatchu bring for dinner?”
“Hey Bug,” Londell answered. “How ’bout a cheeseburger?”
Londell reached into the back seat and handed Bug a bag of fast food.
“Thanks!” Bug said, taking the bag and running back to the playground.
“How’s that lip, Kee?” Londell shouted with an amused expression.
Keenan frowned. “All right,” he answered meekly.
Londell checked his rearview mirror. Harold thought he looked slightly nervous. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, Joop,” he hollered. “Make sure Bug takes care of those lights. ”
Harold was relieved when Londell pulled away from the curb. He could see a few more people making their way down the street toward the corner. In the glare of the setting sun, he couldn’t see their faces, only the way they were walking. Some moved quickly, urgently, while others dragged themselves wearily. Harold shivered and locked the door.
“So, what’s up? You need something?” Londell asked, checking the mirror again.
Harold hesitated. I don’t think I can do this, he thought to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He felt nauseous, and his head was starting to throb.
Londell put his hand on Harold’s shoulder. “Relax. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. ”
Harold knew what he was about to do was wrong, that it would break Grandma’s heart, that it went against everything she taught. But there was no escaping the bills and that letter. He had to do something before it was too late and the social worker came to take him away.
“I need a job, but—”
“Thought you had
a job,” Londell said, glancing at the cell phone in his lap.
“I do. I mean, I did,” Harold swallowed hard. “I quit. ”
“What happened?” said Londell, pulling out a cigarette from his leather jacket.
“I guess I did some thinkin’. I realized you were right. I gotta take care of myself. And my grandma. I can’t do that at SuperFoods. ”
Londell nodded thoughtfully. “I knew you was smart,” he said with an approving smile.
“I don’t think I can stand on that corner,” Harold blurted.
Londell laughed. “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna put you on the corner. You’re gonna be my delivery boy. ”
“What’s that?” Harold asked cautiously.
“I got certain . . . ” Londell paused as if he was searching for the right word, “customers I deliver to personally. Regulars who spend a lot of money. It’s easy. I give you the packages. Then you deliver ’em to the addresses. The customers give you the money, and you bring the cash back to me. Think you can handle that?”
“Maybe,” said Harold. He still wasn’t sure, but at least it sounded better than the corner.
Harold stared out the window, watching block after block of lifeless houses pass by. Then they crossed into a different neighborhood. A few trees appeared, then grassy front yards. The houses began to look alive again, with chairs set out on the porches and even a few flower pots here and there. Two kids riding bicycles crossed in front of Londell’s car.
“Look, Harold. As long as you’re not stupid, you’ll be fine. Just keep your head down and your eyes open. I’ll pay you fifty bucks a day. Shouldn’t take you more than a couple of hours from start to finish. ”
Fifty bucks a day! Harold thought with excitement. With that money, he realized, he could pay for Grandma’s emergency room bill by himself in just a few weeks.
“And to start you off, here’s a little something. ” Londell handed Harold a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “For being such a smart kid, and for trusting me. ”
Londell pulled up in front of a small white house with green shutters.
“Where are we?” Harold asked.
“At your first delivery. ”
“Here?” he asked. Harold was surprised. The house was nothing like the boarded-up buildings near the playground. It looked like a nice home. Maybe a family lived inside.
“That’s right. Business is everywhere,” Londell said, reaching underneath his seat and pulling out a brown paper bag. He opened it, checking the contents, and handed it to Harold.
“Bring this up to the front door and ask for Shawn. He’ll give you $100; you give him the bag. Then bring the money back to me. ”
Harold’s stomach trembled, and his heart thumped heavily beneath his sweaty T-shirt.
“How’s he gonna know what I’m here for?” he asked nervously. He didn’t ask what was in the brown paper bags. I don’t wanna know, he thought. I don’t ever want to know.
“Oh, he’ll know,” Londell said, glancing at his cell phone again. “He’s been waiting for me all day. ”
Londell’s face turned serious. “One more thing: never give a customer his package till you have the cash in your hand. You make sure it’s all there, then you hand it to him. Not before. Understand?”
“Yeah,” said Harold.
Londell’s voice lowered. “The money’s on you, Harold. And the guy I work for, he don’t like excuses. Don’t you ever come back to me short on what you owe. Y’hear?”
Harold nodded somberly. For a moment, Londell’s eyes flashed with the same wildness Jupiter’s had. But then it was gone.
“Go on. Whatcha waitin’ for?”
Harold climbed out of the car and walked up to the front door, glancing back nervously at Londell. From the doorstep, he could hear the muffled sound of a TV. A small sports car sat in the driveway.
Harold knocked on the door. After a few seconds, a clean-shaven man appeared.
“You Shawn?” Harold asked.
The man nodded. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt and beige pants. His eyes were slightly red, but otherwise he didn’t look at all like what Harold had expected. Shawn glanced at Harold, then at Londell before handing Harold one hundred dollars.
Harold counted the money, handed him the bag and quickly returned to Londell’s car.
“That’s it?” Harold asked with a wave of relief.
“That’s it. Not so bad, right?”
Harold smiled. Not bad at all, he thought.
“I take care of my boys, Harold. Long as you do your job and keep your mouth shut, I’ll make sure you get the money you need. Understand?”
Harold nodded, and Londell shifted the car into drive.
“So, you in?” he asked, his eyes locked on Harold’s.
“Yeah,” said Harold, clutching the fifty-dollar bill near his heart. “I’m in. ”
Chapter 6
Londell dropped Harold off at the corner of his block.
“Thanks for the ride,” Harold said. “And the money. ”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow after school. ”
Harold bounded up the street, smiling to himself. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he was in control. Working for Londell didn’t seem that dangerous: the man he delivered to seemed pretty normal. Besides, it wasn’t like he was selling drugs to kids. And once he made enough money, he could quit and go back to a normal job.
Suddenly, Harold heard a familiar voice.
“Harold?”
He turned to see Cindy walking just a half block behind him. She was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. A SuperFoods shopping bag hung from her fingers, and Her forehead was creased with worry.
“Where were you? Grandma Rose said you were working at SuperFoods, but I went there, and they told me you didn’t work there anymore. ”
Harold cringed. She had avoided him since he’d spoken to Londell. There was no way he could tell her where he’d been.
“I quit that job. Me and Mr. Marshall didn’t get along,” he lied.
Cindy caught up with him then. Her amber eyes focused on him like twin spotlights.
“Why are you doing that?” she asked, shaking her head sadly.
“What?”
“Lying,” she said, wiping her eyes as she spoke. “I saw you get outta Londell’s car. We both know what he does, Harold. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. ”
There was a sorrow in her voice that made him ache inside.
“It’s not what you think,” Harold pleaded. “He’s not that bad. ”
Cindy rolled her eyes. “He’s a drug dealer, Harold! That’s all I need to know. ”
“You don’t understand, Cindy,” Harold said defensively.
“No, you don’t understand!” Cindy yelled. “My mom used to date a drug dealer, remember? I saw what drugs do to people. I watched Bobby Wallace almost die in front of me from an overdose. Don’t tell me I don’t understand. ”
Harold knew what Cindy was talking about, but Londell was different. He looked out for his boys. Harold pictured Bug munching happily on his cheeseburger.
“Londell’s not like that, Cindy. He takes care of us—”
“Us?” Cindy’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean you’re workin’ for him?”
“Look, he’s helping me, okay?” Harold admitted, thinking of the money in his pocket and the piles of bills he’d seen last night. “I need his help right now. I can’t explain it all. Just trust me. ”
Cindy nodded and stepped away from him, as if she had just given up. Her eyes glistened with tears.
“Well, I guess you don’t need my help anymore,” she sighed, handing him the bag from SuperFoods and walking away.
Harold looked inside and saw two packages of the expensive bandages Grandma needed for her leg. He knew she’d bought them for him.
“Cindy, don’t be like that,” Harold called to her, but she rushed up the street and dashed into their building. “Cindy! ”
Th
e door slammed, and Harold was alone on the street.
* * *
“I’m home, Grandma!” Harold yelled as he walked into the apartment.
“Where you been, child?!” Grandma shouted angrily from the couch. “You’re late. I was startin’ to get worried!”
Harold had been so busy with Londell and Cindy, he’d forgotten to look at the clock. It was a half hour later than when he usually got back from SuperFoods. His mind raced for an excuse.
“We got a big shipment,” he said, dumping his backpack on the floor. “Mr. Marshall asked if I could stay a little later to help out. He likes my work and wants to increase my schedule to five days a week, too. ” Harold hated lying, but he was doing it for the both of them. It was the only way.
Grandma grunted at the news. He knew she wasn’t happy.
“Harold, you shoulda called to let me know you were gonna be late,” she said, rubbing her leg. “I don’t like the idea of you working every day either. Three days a week is plenty for a boy your age. ”
“But Grandma!” he protested, rushing over to the couch. “He gave me a raise! He said I was a good worker. I swear I’ll keep up with my homework. And I’ll be home in time to help with dinner. ”
Grandma arched her eyebrows skeptically. “I don’t know, Harold. It seems like an awful lot. ”
“Please, Grandma!” he persisted, sitting down beside her. “It’s important to me. If my grades start slipping, I’ll cut back my hours. I promise. ”
“My goodness,” she replied, patting his hand. “I’ve never heard you so excited. Usually I can’t get you out from in front of that TV. ”
“Guess I’m growing up,” he said, forcing himself to smile despite the guilt that clawed invisibly at his chest.
“Well, I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world, having something of your own. Lord knows it can’t be good for you, taking care of me all the time. ” Grandma sighed thoughtfully.
“It’s not so bad, Grandma,” he replied. He noticed the bruise on her face was fading, and though she still looked tired, her eyes seemed a bit brighter.
As long as you get better, Grandma, he thought to himself. That’s all that matters.