“Oh, we’ll be out of the rain, down in the subway station,” Otis assured me. “This should be a big day for us. Most people have Saturday off, so they’ll be looking to buy stuff. And my man Reggie and I will be there to sell it to them.”
“Here comes another working man,” I announced, spying Dill McCoy running up the block.
Otis peeked out and chuckled. “Ol’ burger flipper! The way he wears that restaurant uniform, you’d think he was in the military. And look at that tore-up umbrella he’s carrying,” my brother scoffed. “The dude doesn’t have any style.”
“I like him,” I said, pushing Otis out of the way. “Hey, Dill!” I cried, poking my head out the window.
“Hi, little chick,” he called up. He was coming to our building, just as I’d suspected.
“Tell Nirvana to stop over,” I yelled down.
“Okay,” he said, ducking inside.
“Why did you have to do that?” Otis grumbled. “All I need is them two over here.”
“Don’t be so grouchy,” I countered. “I want to show my monkey and the candlestick holders to Nirvana.”
“What monkey?” he demanded. “What candlestick holders?”
“That monkey,” I said, pointing to where I’d placed the little stuffed animal at the top of my bed. “I got it from Jackson’s,” I explained. “He let me have some candlestick holders, too,” I added, crossing to the shopping bag I’d left by the door.
There was a tap at the door. I opened it. Nirvana and Dill stood in the hallway.
“Grandma sent over some fresh muffins,” Nirvana said, holding out a plate. She did a double take.
“Child, where did you get that dress? You look like a princess!”
“Thanks,” I said, blushing.
Otis reached over me and grabbed a muffin. “I’ll take one of those.”
“Can we come in first?” Nirvana said pointedly.
“Of course,” I said, opening the door wider.
Otis skulked across the room. “How much you want to bet there ain’t no butter in this house?” he muttered. “Ma bought everything but the important stuff.” He bit off half his muffin. “Tastes good,” he said grudgingly.
Nirvana stepped inside and presented me with the plate. I took a deep sniff. “Smells like banana-nut muffins,” I murmured. “Would you and Dill like one yourselves?” I asked.
“I’ve already eaten,” said Dill.
“They’re for you, Haley,” Nirvana said graciously.
I put the muffins down on the table and picked one out. They were still warm. “Yum,” I exclaimed, biting in. “It’s delicious. Tell your grandma thank you for us.”
“I will,” said Nirvana.
Dill sauntered across the room to Ma’s alcove, where all the clothes were stacked. He eyed Otis.
“Y’all opening a department store?” Dill muttered.
I laughed. “It looks that way, doesn’t it? Those clothes don’t belong to us. They belong to the incense stand.”
Dill lifted an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Nirvana peeked into one of the garment bags and spotted a red-beaded gown.
“Look at this dress! It’s gorgeous!”
“Must cost a fortune,” Dill commented. He gave Otis a sidelong glance. “Not what you’d usually pick up at an incense stand.”
“Mind your business, McCoy,” Otis snapped with a scowl. He turned his attention to Nirvana and the red-beaded dress. “Go ahead, take it out.”
Nirvana slipped the slinky dress out of its plastic. “This is outrageous!” she cried, holding the gown up to her body.
“You’ve got the body for it, baby,” Otis observed.
Ignoring Otis’s comment, Nirvana turned to Dill. “What do you think, honey?”
Dill grinned. “You look like one of those chicks on the Academy Awards.”
“It’s so beautiful,” Nirvana murmured. “Of course, I wouldn’t know where to wear a dress like this myself.”
“Lots of places you could wear a dress like that,” Otis said, stepping in. “You’d be surprised at how many parties there are in this town.”
“Those who make it in the recording industry know how to party, I imagine,” Dill volunteered.
“They’re not the only ones,” Otis objected. “People get rich doing all kinds of stuff. Of course, people who flip hamburgers can’t expect to get nowhere,” he added.
Dill jerked away. “Lay off, man.”
“Yeah, leave him alone,” Nirvana said, putting the dress down.
Otis glanced out the window.
“Teachers can get rich,” I piped up. “Jackson owns his house. Houses in New York City are really expensive.”
“That boss of yours ain’t rich,” said Otis. “He probably scrimped and saved his whole life for that house. Probably a bargain-basement house that the landlord was trying to get rid of. Might have been a condemned building, for all you know. The way you describe that junky old yard of his, I bet that’s just what it was.”
“How would you know?” I snapped. “You haven’t even seen it! You’re always trying to put somebody down.”
“How about that?” Dill added.
“Don’t everybody gang up on me,” Otis responded, making his way to the muffin plate. “I don’t mean to disrespect that teacher you work for, Haley,” he said. “It’s just that I have my own dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?” Nirvana asked.
He shrugged. “Dreams of a better life.” He pointed to the slinky dress with red beads. “My wife is going to have a closet of gowns just as nice as that one. And she’s going to have places to wear them. And we won’t be walking or taking the subway to get there.”
“What kind of car are you going to get?” Dill asked, rubbing his chin. “I want one of those Lincoln Navigators. Throw everything in the back, including the kids.”
“I saw a television commercial for a BMW sports car that was definitely me,” said Nirvana.
“I won’t need a car,” I said. “I won’t need one, because I’ll be living in the city. That’s why Jackson doesn’t have one.”
“People in the city own cars,” said Otis. He sat down at the table and propped up his feet. “They own stretches. That’s where I’m going to be.”
“And how are you going to get there?” Dill challenged. He strutted over to the stack of clothes. “By working in the incense business with that jailbird, Reggie?”
I winced. “Reggie’s a jailbird?”
Otis narrowed his eyes at Dill. “Watch your mouth around my sister, man.” My brother turned to me. “No, Reggie is not a jailbird. Reggie is my friend.” He turned to the window. “Matter of fact, I’m waiting for my friend right now. He was supposed to be across the street a little while ago. He was borrowing a van from somebody to drive our stuff over to the subway stop.”
Dill grabbed Nirvana’s hand. He gave me a wink. “See you later, chickadee. We’ve got to be going.”
“Wait, Nirvana!” I said, hurrying over to the shopping bag. “My boss gave me some candlestick holders. I thought your grandmother could use them.”
“Beautiful!” exclaimed Nirvana, peeking into the bag. “That’s nice of you, Haley. Nice of your boss, too,” she added, smiling.
“Look what else he gave me!” I dashed across the room and picked Monkey up off the bed.
Nirvana squealed. “A stuffed monkey like the one I used to have!”
“Isn’t it a crazy coincidence? And guess what? His name is Monkey, too!”
“Too much!” said Nirvana.
“He’s a cute little dude,” said Dill, sidling up to see. “Do you still have your stuffed monkey, Nirvana?”
“Somewhere, I suppose.”
“Maybe we should save him for our baby,” Dill suggested.
Nirvana rolled her eyes. “That’s years away,” she said firmly.
Dill’s face fell. “Can I help it if one of my dreams is to be a good daddy?”
Otis gave him a high sign. “You and me both! Only
my kid won’t be getting any hand-me-down toys.”
Dill flinched, ignoring Otis’s upheld hand.
“Hey, I think it stopped raining,” I said, running over to the window. I still had on my princess dress. I stuck my head outside. The rain had definitely stopped. Though it was still kind of dreary, the sun was peeking through. Across the street, a crowd was gathering. Something was going on. A police car had pulled up next to a van. A man with his back turned was being frisked. I began to feel shaky.
“Somebody is getting arrested,” I announced grimly.
Otis, Dill, and Nirvana rushed over to see. “Aw, man,” Otis groaned. He tightened his jaw.
“Who is it?” I asked.
Dill’s eyes narrowed. “Looks like Reggie.”
Otis made an abrupt about-face. Nirvana grabbed my arm. One of the police officers outside was staring across the street at our building.
“Lock the door, Haley!” Otis cried, dashing out of the apartment.
“Where are you going?” I called in confusion.
“To the bathroom,” he yelled, slamming the door. “Don’t tell anybody where I am!”
A bolt of fear shot through my body. “What’s going on?” I asked Nirvana. Dill pointed outside. A policeman was walking into our building. Across the street, another officer was putting Reggie into the back of the police car. “Is the policeman coming up here?” I asked shrilly.
“Let’s get out of here!” Dill said.
“The dress!” Nirvana exclaimed. “Quick, take it off!”
The room began to spin around. Nirvana unzipped me. Then she and Dill yanked the dress off.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, stepping out of the swirl of chiffon.
Nirvana took my hand. “Hurry up! We’ll go to my place!”
Dill pushed open the door and we burst out into the hall. The policeman was at the bottom of the stairs on his way up. Jerking away from Nirvana, I glanced around wildly. I had heard how these things worked. When there was a crime in the neighborhood, the police picked up all kinds of people as suspects, even if they were innocent. Reggie had done something wrong! So now the police were coming for Otis! My heart thudded. I began to bang on the bathroom door. I had to warn my brother, so that he could get out of there.
“Otis! Hurry up! Run, Otis! Run!” Caught in a well of panic, I wasn’t thinking straight. I remember hearing foot-steps on the stairs. Then someone was standing behind me. I spun around and found myself face to face with a police officer. He was wearing a gun in his holster and was holding a nightstick.
“Step aside, miss,” he said.
I stood in front of the door. “There’s nobody in there,” I said. My voice sounded hollow. “Just my brother. He’s going to the bathroom.”
The officer’s eyes were sad. “Step aside, please.” Dill and Nirvana took my arms and gently pulled me away. The officer knocked on the bathroom door with his nightstick. “Come out with your hands up!” he commanded. My heart stood still. I glanced down at the officer’s gun, which was still in his holster.
“Okay,” Otis said from behind the door. “I’m coming.”
The officer stood aside. The door opened a crack. Otis walked out timidly, holding his hands up.
“Are you Otis Moon?” the officer asked sternly.
My brother nodded.
“Where are your parents?” the policeman asked.
“Not here,” Otis muttered.
“Put your hands behind your back,” the policeman ordered. Then the officer put handcuffs on him. “You have the right to remain silent…,” the policeman began.
I stood there as if in a dream. He was telling Otis his rights, just like in some scene on television. Then, just like that, he was leading my brother away down the stairs. My brother had been arrested!
“Wait!” I cried. “Where are you going with him?”
Otis craned his neck and glanced up at me over his shoulder. “Don’t tell Ma,” he pleaded.
My legs wobbled. Nirvana hugged me. Dill was leaning against the wall, and Mrs. Brown was standing in her doorway. I didn’t know how long she’d been watching.
“I told your mother I couldn’t keep up with him,” she muttered sorrowfully. “Going out all hours of the day and night.”
“It must be a mistake!” I cried.
A different officer came upstairs.
“Where’s my brother?” I asked. Tears were streaming out of my eyes.
“We’re taking him in,” he said, striding into the apartment.
“Why are you going into my apartment?” I whimpered.
Dill touched my arm. “Hush, Haley.”
“Yes, let the officer do what he needs to,” Mrs. Brown said.
I pulled away and ran down the stairs. Dill and Nirvana followed me.
The crowd on the sidewalk had gotten bigger.
“There he is,” Nirvana whispered, pointing to the police car parked across the street. I spied Otis and Reggie seated in the back. Reggie looked a lot older.
“Why are they arresting him?” I cried. I made my way across the street, with Nirvana and Dill on either side of me.
“Reggie was selling hot clothes,” Dill explained. “Selling expensive dresses and stuff that he and his friends had ripped off.”
“But Otis didn’t know that!” I cried. “Otis wouldn’t steal anything!”
Venturing through the crowd, I tapped on the window of the police car. Otis turned to me sadly. “Go away!” I could hear him through the glass. “Go home, Haley!”
The officer who had gone up to our apartment came past with an armful of clothes. Dill pulled me out of the way.
“Where are you taking him?” I asked the officer.
“Tell your mother to call the precinct,” he directed.
“What are you going to do to him?” I persisted.
“We’re going to ask him some questions,” the policeman said calmly.
“Come on, Haley,” Nirvana said, pulling me gently. I tried to say good-bye to Otis, but he refused to look in my direction. I wandered back across the street and stood with Dill and Nirvana in front of my building. The officer getting the clothes made two more trips. On the last trip, I spotted the white princess dress. Finally, the officer carrying the clothes got into the front of the car with his partner. Then the car took off. Slouched low in the back next to his friend Reggie, my brother didn’t look out at me. Dill put an arm around my shoulder.
“Hang in, little chick.”
“What are we going to do?” I whispered.
Nirvana held my hand tightly. “You have to tell your mother. Otis will need a lawyer.”
“I can’t. Otis said not to.”
“Maybe he’ll beat the rap,” Dill said. “Maybe Reggie will take the blame on himself. Otis was probably just following after him.”
“Otis is only fifteen,” Nirvana said hopefully. “Maybe they’ll let him go. Maybe they just took him in to teach him a lesson.”
“Maybe the policemen just want to ask Otis some questions,” I added, perking up.
Dill smiled. “Maybe in a couple of hours, he’ll come sailing right home.”
“Come on in here, Haley,” Mrs. Brown called down from her window. She’d been watching from her apartment. “Hanging out will just give people something more to talk about.”
“I’ll be up in a minute.” I turned to Nirvana. “Tell me what to do.”
“Your mother ought to know,” Nirvana advised. “That’s her son, after all.”
“And the police told you to have her call,” Dill reminded me. “You should go and tell her.”
“Ma doesn’t like me visiting,” I said with a swallow.
“Is your ma getting calmed down some?” Dill asked.
“I think so. No telling how she’ll take this news about Otis, though.” My mouth went dry.
“Will you go to the hospital with me?” I choked, tightening my grip on Nirvana’s hand.
“I wish I could. I can’t take off f
rom work,” she said. “I’ll be late as it is, if I don’t get moving.”
“I can’t go, either,” said Dill. “Sorry.”
I glanced up at Mrs. Brown. “Are you coming inside?” she called down.
“Maybe Grandma could go with you,” Nirvana suggested. “You can take a taxi. It’s hard for her to walk.”
“Or you could call your mother on the telephone,” advised Dill. “Break the news to her that way.”
“Or wait to see what happens and call her later,” Nirvana piped up.
“I could go to the police precinct and wait for Otis,” I ventured nervously.
“They might ask you a lot of questions if you show up at the station by yourself,” Dill objected.
“About what?” I asked, bewildered. “I didn’t steal anything.”
“You’re thirteen years old and practically living by yourself,” Dill reminded me.
“So what?” I said with a shrug.
“They might not like that,” Dill advised.
Nirvana and Dill hugged me and walked down the street. I felt completely alone. I sucked in my breath and turned in to the building.
When I got to the top of the stairs, Mrs. Brown was standing in the hallway. “Poor Haley,” she said, wagging her head. “That brother of yours is a pure scamp. I feel so sorry for you, child.” She clucked her tongue. “I feel so sorry for that poor mother of yours.”
“Can we do something for Otis?” I asked weakly.
She pursed her lips. “He and that Reggie got themselves into trouble. Let them get themselves out. As if your poor mother hasn’t got enough problems! I’ll call her now and break the news.”
“No, don’t!” I blurted out. “I’ll tell her myself, in person. I’m worried about how she’ll take it over the telephone.”
“Let me know before you leave,” Mrs. Brown said, edging into her doorway. “Maybe I can go along with you in a taxicab.” She shook her head. “That brother of yours, selling hot clothes. A couple of degenerates—that’s what those boys are.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I hung my head. I’d called Otis a degenerate once, too. But I’d been kidding. “He’s not a degenerate, Mrs. Brown,” I cried. “He’s my brother. He’s my brother, no matter what he’s done!”
A Piece of Heaven Page 7