“Yes, sir.” Justin looked down at his feet. When he walked in here, he thought he had two bad guys pretty carefully defined. Well, maybe 50 percent wasn’t bad. And maybe the jury was still out on Jace and Sammy.
“What I’m trying to tell you both is that I’m well aware of two young men, black men, who haven’t had all the same chances that a lot of kids have had. And I’m looking at one of them whom I’m not very worried about any more. Justin, you’ve done a lot to pull yourself up. Not every kid in this school would try to bring up your grades in three classes, Justin. Oh, and actually bring them up in two more classes, besides."
Justin's eyes widened. "Um … what? My grades are up in five classes?"
"Well, believe it or not you seem to have been pulling an "A" in keyboarding pretty much all along. English is your worst class, and your average in there right now is about a C+, your teacher says. Not bad, young man."
"All RIGHT, Justin!" Buck added a whistle and a high five.
Justin slumped in his seat. Seems as if there's nothing that they don't know about me, he thought. Although he hasn't said anything about T. J.'s trying to throw the football games.
"Now … as far as T. J. goes … we're watching him; his brother is watching him; and his mother is doing what she can. Which isn't much, but ... Let us put the pressure on him from now on, Justin. I'm not saying that you should stay away from him, but don't be afraid to zip your lip and walk away from him if you need to."
"Well … I can do that. But there's more …"
"Justin, we're well aware of what went on during football practice. Let's just say that we made sure that is all now part of the past."
"Hm. All right, sir. Um … can I ask you a question?"
"You can ask."
Justin's lips twisted a little. Can you answer? Really give me an answer to the meaning of it all? Do I have any choices? Can I blow my nose and not have someone add a check to a list?
"Well … do you always give this much personal attention to certain students?"
The superintendent chuckled. "Just when we need to, Justin. And you know what? For me it's all part of the job. And maybe I need a little reassurance that the youth of this town aren't all like young Buck over there."
"Wha …? Oh, right, Pop. You're such a kidder."
"Ask me if I'm kidding while you're cleaning out the garage this weekend, Buck-O, me boy."
Buck buried his face in his hands. "Thanks, Pop. Always did like diving for buried treasure."
* * *
Sharice was sprawled on the floor in front of the TV, watching a Roadrunner cartoon when Justin opened the front door, and she reached for the remote and punched the "mute" button.
"Justin. I gotta talk to you."
He dropped his backpack next to the sofa and sprawled on it, his feet on the coffee table.
"What now?" He leaned back and closed his eyes. It had been a long day, and with the extra sheet of algebra problems he'd been handed for missing part of that class in his backpack, waiting for him to work out, it was far from finished.
"Guess what? Sammy apologized to me!"
"Oh, boy. I suppose with hearts and flowers and candy and kisses?"
"Nothing romantic like that. He just came up to me in the cafeteria … and let me tell you, me and my girls watched him all the way … and said he was sorry for acting like a jerk; he didn't mean it; and with a kick like that I should be on a soccer team."
"So … you two are, like, Steady Freddy now?"
"Justin. Get serious. No, I flat told him don't-call-me-I'll-call-you, and the phone is seriously broken beyond repair."
Justin opened his eyes and yawned. "I suppose that's good news. Did you ever tell Mom about it?"
Sharice rolled back on her stomach and stared at the moving figures on the screen. "No, Justin. I don't think that she'd understand. Do you?"
"I suppose not, Shar. Well, I guess Mr. Sammy will just have to be our little secret, huh?"
"You got it. Oh, and something else. There's this cute boy in my English class; I think he's mixed or Mexican or something …"
Justin put his hands over his ears. "Nah, nah, nah, I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
Sharice stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine. See if I tell you about any boys ever again, Justin."
He closed his eyes. "Bet."
Chapter Twenty-Two
“So Coach Greene was all right with that?” Kerry took a bite out of her slice of pizza, frowned at it, and dropped the crust onto her tray.
“Yeah, he was cool. He said he understood about my wanting to do hoops and about the ankle and everything.” Justin pushed his tray away. For once, nothing semi-edible except crumbs remained on it.
“Justin even said that Coach invited him to come out for track this spring,” Ranaé added. Her tray was almost empty, too. “Said he needed someone to run high hurdles.”
“Yeah, we’re always short in running events,” Eric said. “We had to forfeit a few relays last year just because we didn’t have enough to put four on a team unless we ran ’em back-to-back, and even Slavedriver Greene wouldn’t do that to us. No offense, Justin.”
Justin laughed. “That’s cool, man. I might just do it, but only if you can pull yourself away from the shot put and run anchor in the medley with me.”
“Run anchor? I AM an anchor. I don’t run. I just throw things.” He tossed his napkin over the table in the general direction of Denise, and she glared at him. “Karl and Buck over there are who you need, and maybe Karl.”
“Okay, Justin, enough about sports. Tell us about the LaToya caper.” Karl struggled with the last of his pizza. “We want … no, we NEED to know how the great Topeka stud handles chicks around here.”
“Forget that LaToya chick.” Ranaé’s eyes had a dangerous look in them, Justin realized, one that he’d have to keep in mind in the future. Not that it really mattered to him, though.
“I’d kinda like to hear Mr. Justin’s side of the story, my dear.” Karl bounced his pizza crust off his tray, and it rebounded neatly into Denise’s tray.
“Man! Keep your garbage to yourself,” she muttered as she delicately used her napkin to protect her fingers from the pizza and picked it up and dropped it onto Karl’s plate. Her hair was pulled neatly behind both ears, and Justin noticed a little extra makeup on her right cheek but no obvious sign of a bruise on it.
“Let’s just say that short-term romances seem to be my specialty, and I don’t mean one-night stands, either, Karl. As for technique … “
Karl’s eyes got slightly wider, and he gazed behind Justin.
“All right. Mind if I drop in?” T. J. slid into the empty seat behind Justin. Justin half-turned his chair, and he faced him.
“Free country,” Justin muttered. “Nice to see you again.”
“Oh, yeah … nice to see you, too, bro. Too bad you had to run off so quick Saturday night.”
Justin noticed that all eyes were on him. “Yeah, we thought maybe you and Tony and LaToya needed to be alone for awhile. And how is Tony’s road rash today?”
T. J.’s eyes widened. “Couldn’t say, bro. Had to … split before we could check him out.”
“Yeah, he was sort of laid out, wasn’t he?”
“Whatever. He wanted me to ask you how your dad was getting along these days, too.”
Justin felt the hair on the back of his neck raise, and his hand twitched, but before he could open his mouth to reply, he saw something whiz by his head and catch T. J. in the side of his head. Brown droplets of chocolate milk from the almost-empty milk carton spattered his face, and he stood up.
“Why don’t you lay off, T. J.?” Denise was standing, also. Slowly, Eric, Buck, and Karl stood up. Kerry reached out for Denise’s arm, but she shook her off. T. J. wiped the droplets from his face and turned slowly to face Denise.
“Yeah, I mean YOU, T. J. Or maybe you’d like to smack me again? Show what kind of a man YOU are?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
”
“Yeah, well, luckily I’m the Avon lady’s best customer, or everyone would have known exactly how you treat people who don’t do exactly what you tell them to do. Well, you can kiss my act in that part of your life’s story goodbye. In fact, you can kiss this!” And she slapped her hip and sat, her hands covering her face.
T. J. looked at Eric, Karl, Buck, and then Justin, who by then had surrounded Denise. “All right, then. I see how it is. Well, come next fall YOU’LL see how it is when you come begging my brother for even a tryout.”
Kerry snorted. “Uh, my man. Perhaps you’d do well to remember what it would be like when you try to play the fine game of football with an offensive line in front of you that averages a hundred and thirty pounds. You know, the freshman team? Even your brother-the-coach isn’t stupid enough to turn away people that YOU don’t seem to get along with.” She stepped around Justin, who noticed that she really didn’t have to angle her gaze upward very much to meet his eyes. “You giving your brother orders, too?”
Justin stood up beside her and folded his arms. “You can tell Tony I have no clue how my dad is. I haven’t seen him for years; I don’t intend to track him down, and I don’t care if I meet him in this lifetime or next.”
T. J.’s mouth opened, but Ranaé leaned across the table. “You know what? Shut up, T. J. We don’t need your advice about anything. And you can tell your precious cousin LaToya that she can keep her trash out of my car, including herself, AND her relatives, from now on.”
T. J. gazed at her for what seemed to be an eternity. Justin noticed that people at nearby tables were watching them, and the cafeteria seemed to have gone silent. Two teachers were making their way toward their table, but they seemed to be moving in slow motion.
T. J. shook his head and turned and walked toward the outside door. He stopped and turned. “Forget you all, man!” Justin didn’t know when he remembered a door banging open so violently without the glass in it breaking. The five-minute bell sounded, though, and the resulting clattering of chairs and trays seemed unnaturally loud, almost like a collective sigh of relief.
Eric picked up his tray first. "Nice arm, Denise. Too bad we don't have a baseball team here. I bet you could hit Mr. T. J. right between the eyes from center field."
Denise folded her arms around herself. She seemed to be shivering, but she took a deep breath.
"Um … guys … well … thanks. For being here."
Kerry put her arm around her for a second. "No problem. Just let me know if you need us again."
Denise managed a small grin. "I think he got the message."
Justin cleared his throat. "Safety in numbers, it's called. Learned that in history class yesterday. Or somewhere."
“Hey, Justin. You wanna borrow my history notebook after school?” Denise was now smiling at him.
“Naw. Thanks, anyway. I got that scene under control. Besides, I don’t want to have to smack you a good one if it isn’t very good,” Justin grinned at her.
“You just try it, buster.” Denise doubled up her fist, which was about the size of Justin’s thumb. She chuckled, picked up her tray, and almost skipped to the conveyor belt.
“Well, Justin, that was interesting. I didn’t know you had a father.” The others had left Ranaé and Justin to gather up their trays alone.
“Yeah, it’s a biological necessity. I got a father. And that’s about all I care to say about that.”
“No problem. Part of the past, huh?”
“Real American history. And forgotten.”
“Oh, hey, Justin … speaking of the past … you remember someone named Tamisha Jackson back in Topeka? She’s my cousin, on my dad’s side.”
Justin shook his head slowly. “She must have gone to Highland Park or something.
“Well, I think she’s going to come out here and visit me over Christmas vacation. How ’bout I … “
Justin put his palm up. “Man, no way. I can barely deal with people I know. No more fix-ups, okay?”
Ranaé tossed her head. “What you mean you can barely deal with people you know?”
Justin shook his head. “Well, I was just about to see if you maybe wanted to take in a movie this weekend, like on Saturday, when you start in throwing females at me.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well, someone needs to take care of you, and I don’t think Denise is going to be following you around all the time to beat up anyone who badmouths you.”
He chuckled. “For sure. T. J.’d better watch his back from now on. But how about … “
“Listen. Don’t get pushy. I’ll have to check my … calendar, ya know. It kind of gets filled up this time of year. And … I’ll let you know. Maybe tomorrow.”
Justin rolled his eyes heavenward. Women. “Yeah, well, if I’m home and in the mood, you can call me.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t Maybe I’ll call Wednesday, if I feel like it.”
He grinned at her. “Fine. I guess I can deal with that.”
#
The saga at Niotaka High continues in High School Diversity – The Clash:
From Chapter One:
“You been messin’ with my boyfriend.”
Carla slowly raised her eyes from her food tray, looked around, and counted: One, two … four girls stood behind their leader, Miranda, who as usual had spread too much makeup across her face. The others stood behind Miranda and glowered at Carla; she recognized two of them, but the others didn’t register in her memory. All obviously were Miranda clones, as their lipstick looked as if it had been applied with butter knives.
Carla stood and slowly wiped her lips on her napkin, trying to stretch her five-feet-plus-most-of-an-inch as tall as she could. “Excuse me? What boyfriend would that be?”
Miranda took a step closer and stood directly in front of Carla and looked down. Their noses were perhaps five inches apart.
“That would be the boyfriend whose car you got into last Friday night.”
* * *
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