The bliss of sleep finally overtook her, taking her away and giving her a brief escape from the depression eating away at her soul. Breaker got up and moved closer to her when she became restless, pressing his warm body up against her. It took a while for her to relax enough to slip into a deeper sleep, devoid of the painful dreams that danced through her mind.
Chapter 15
“You’ll be partnering up for this next assignment,” Mrs. Moore said with a smile. “I’ve selected your partner, so don’t bother trying to pick. You’ll have three weeks to complete it. I’ve given you a rubric to help you understand what I’m looking for, as well as a detailed syllabus with the expected requirements. This will account for half of your semester grade. Part of your grade will be based on participation, so don’t think just one person can do the assignment and both of you will get credit for it. You can get extra bonus points for creativity and content.”
Makayla glanced at the paper Mrs. Moore laid down in front of her as she talked. Mrs. Moore was a slender black woman in her early thirties. She had been journalism major and talked about her time working for various newspapers and television stations in Chicago before moving to Florida a few years ago.
While she enjoyed the stories that Mrs. Moore shared of her time working at the different companies, she wasn’t interested in becoming a journalist and found the class boring. Makayla had found a seat up front, realizing quickly that if she sat in the front furthest away from the door, she could do two things; avoid being called on and spend most of her time looking out the window.
“Makayla, you’ll be partnering with Tyrell,” Mrs. Moore said.
Makayla glanced at the huge black boy sitting three rows over. He had chosen a seat toward the back of the room, mostly so he could move the desk back far enough to stretch his legs. He wasn’t overweight, he was just… big!
At first she thought he was one of the football players until she heard him talking to the coach one day in the gym. The coach had been pressuring him to try out for the team, but Tyrell had told the coach he didn’t want to play football. He was quiet in class, different from the other kids that had a habit of calling out or throwing wadded up paper when they thought Mrs. Moore wasn’t looking.
“Tyrell, you and Makayla will be writing an introspective piece. I want you to see if you can capture the essence of doing a humanitarian piece on someone’s life. You’ll need to interview a person of interest, and give the facts about their life and who they are. Try to find someone no one knows about, like a grandparent or friend of the family who may have done something interesting in their life and share it,” Mrs. Moore explained before she moved on to the next group.
Makayla returned her attention to the window. A wave of longing swept through her to escape. She vaguely wondered what the teacher would do if she just pushed open the window, jumped out, and ran like hell.
She jerked back to the present when she heard the bell ring. Great, she thought sourly as she bent to shove the paper Mrs. Moore had given her into her backpack. Gym, my next most favorite class… not!
Makayla rose out of her seat and slung the heavy weight of her backpack over her shoulder. She ignored everyone as she wound her way through the uneven rows of desk. Pushing open the door, she lost herself in the mass of bodies pouring into the hallway. She really didn’t think she could handle it too much longer.
*.*.*
Fifteen minutes later, she sat on the bleachers ignoring everyone else. She had refused to change into her gym outfit after Alisha Hemmings and her two cronies cornered her in the locker room last week. Alisha accused her of trying to flirt with one of the guys who she happened to have her eye on. Since Makayla hadn’t known which ‘guy’ she was supposed to have eyed, it made the confrontation a little ludicrous. What hadn’t been amusing was the feeling of being threatened.
She wasn’t one to back down, but three against one wasn’t fair odds. Overall, Makayla was pretty proud of herself. The first time Alicia pushed her, Makayla had shrugged it off with a low, one word warning ‘don’t’. The second time, Makayla reacted. She’d learned back in Tampa that when you hit someone, you made sure they stayed down. She had popped Alicia in the mouth, knocking the other girl back against the lockers at the same time as she slung her heavy backpack at the other two, forcing them to retreat.
She didn’t stick around long enough to give them a chance to corner her. She hit the doors just as one of the coaches came in. A quick muttered excuse about starting her monthly had convinced the woman that was why she hadn’t dressed out.
Alicia and her two friends had come out shortly after that looking for her. Makayla had found refuge by being excused to go to the library for the period. Since then, she’d done everything she could to avoid being caught alone.
“Are you, Makayla?” A voice asked.
Makayla looked up and grimaced. It was the guy from her writing class… Tyrell something or other. She pursed her lips together and nodded before looking down at the book on her lap again.
“I want to talk to you about our project,” he said, sitting down beside her.
“I don’t,” she replied in a clipped voice.
Tyrell was quiet for a minute and she hoped that meant he took her hint that she wanted to be alone. Annoyance flashed through her when he leaned toward her, staring down at the book she was reading. Closing it, she turned to glare at him.
“What is that?” He asked in curiosity.
Makayla was about to reply when he reached over and took it off her lap. Her eyes flashed with anger. Talking to someone didn’t give them the right to mess with her stuff.
“Give it back,” she demanded, holding her hand out.
“The Mariner’s Handbook,” he read out loud before handing it back to her. “Sounds like heavy stuff.”
Makayla took the book and shoved it into her bag before pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. She started to rise, but sank back down when she saw Alicia glaring at her. The feeling of being trapped grew inside her. She began to have a better appreciation for what a mouse must feel like when the cat was on the hunt.
“It is,” she muttered in response to Tyrell’s comment.
*.*.*
Tyrell glanced down to where Makayla was looking. A grim expression darkened his face when he saw Alicia talking and nodding her head toward the girl sitting next to him.
He immediately recognized what was going on. Most people just thought he was this big dumb black guy, but Tyrell knew that he was more. He could feel it deep inside him. He was lucky, at over six foot two and two hundred and forty pounds, people didn’t mess with him. Unfortunately, his size also had a negative effect. People tended to think he was either a jock or a gang member.
His eyes followed the movement of Makayla’s hand when she pushed her hair back. Her fingers were trembling just a little. He opened his mouth to ask if she needed any help, before he snapped it close again. He didn’t need to get in the middle of any crap. He was in his last year of school and he had plans, big plans, and they didn’t involve screwing it up by sticking his nose in other people’s business.
“Listen, I need the credits from this class to graduate,” Tyrell said, releasing the breath he had been holding. “The rest of my classes are a piece of cake, but I need this one. I thought we could go over some ideas for what we wanted to do for it, maybe make a list of people we could contact.”
Makayla shook her head. “I’m not doing it,” she replied. “You can do what you want.”
Tyrell frowned. “What do you mean you aren’t doing it? I read the syllabus. It said if we don’t work together that points will be deducted,” he said, glancing at her. “Maybe you didn’t hear me when I said I need this class to graduate.”
He watched as Makayla stood up when the coach yelled for everyone to head to the locker room. He suspected that she would use this as her chance to escape the gym while Alicia and her friends were changing. He reached out and placed his hand on her arm when she b
egan to gather up her belongings.
Frustration ate at him when she jerked her arm away and stepped back. He returned the hostile glare with one of his own as he rose to his feet. A slight smile curved his lips when her expression changed to wariness.
“I heard you,” she muttered, taking another step back. “I just don’t care. I’ll tell Mrs. Moore that I refused to work with you,” she added with a shrug as she started to move down the bleachers.
Tyrell clenched his fists in frustration. He had already tried to talk to Mrs. Moore about doing the assignment on his own. She had been as stubborn about him working with Makayla, as Makayla was about not wanting to work with him.
“Part of being a great reporter or community activist is getting people who don’t want to be involved to change their mind,” Mrs. Moore had told him right after the bell rang. “If you want to pass this class, you have to convince your partner that this is a worthwhile project to do.”
He didn’t have a chance to argue anymore as the next group of students was filing into the room. He had gone to the gym knowing that Makayla would be there and with the intent of getting her thoughts on the assignment were. Now, his gut twisted in frustration. One way or another, Makayla was going to help him with the assignment, whether she liked it or not. He wasn’t giving up on his dreams just because of her.
“You’ve messed with the wrong bro if you think that,” he muttered, following her down the bleachers.
*.*.*
Tyrell pushed opened the door of his grandmother’s house four days later feeling drained. He paused in the doorway when he saw his older brother and four of his friends sitting on the couch. His lips tightened when Jerome glanced at him with a hard look.
“Hey, Tyrell,” Jerome greeted, leaning back and drinking from a soda can. “Where’ve you been?”
Tyrell’s fingers tightened on his backpack. He looked warily at the other four guys sitting around the room. He didn’t make eye contact for long. He knew they were bad news, that was enough for him.
Shutting the door behind him, he stepped into the small, cluttered living room. He wondered vaguely where his grandmother was. She didn’t like Jerome bringing his friends in the house, whether she was there or not.
“School and the library,” he said, glancing around at the other guys again. “Grandma doesn’t like anyone being here if she isn’t,” he reminded his brother.
“Ask me if I give a…,” Jerome started to say when the door opened again.
“Jerome, what’s these boys doing in my house,” Charlotte James demanded. “Get them out of here. This here’s my home. You boys need to go find yourselves a job instead of looking for the easy way out.”
Jerome ignored his grandmother’s demand. His eyes were still locked with Tyrell’s. Tyrell watched as his twenty-three year old brother rose from the couch, setting the can of soda in his hand down on the polished glass of the end table. His mouth tightened into a line when Jerome ignored the colorful coaster that was on it.
“We’re leaving,” Jerome said with a jerk of his head.
Tyrell stepped to the side as one of the guys opened the door and cautiously looked out before nodding his head to the others. The move told Tyrell all he needed to know about his brother’s current activities. He would need to warn his grandmother to be careful. His head jerked around when Jerome stopped next to him.
“I’ve got a job for you,” Jerome muttered under his breath.
Tyrell shook his head. “I don’t need your job, Jerome,” he retorted, looking at where the others had walked out to a car parked along the curb. “You need to stay away from here and grandma. Neither one of us want to be caught in the crossfire of whatever you’re doing now.”
Jerome’s eyes flashed in warning. “Grow up, Tyrell,” he taunted. “We could use your muscle.”
Tyrell shook his head. “I’ve got other plans,” he said in a stiff voice. “They don’t include ending up in jail or like dad, six feet under the ground.”
“Jail isn’t as bad as it sounds,” Jerome chuckled before he turned and glanced at his grandmother who stood in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at him in disapproval. “Love you, grandma.”
“Sure you do, boy,” Charlotte retorted. “That’s why you bring those thugs into my house. Get out of here.”
Jerome chuckled and shot Tyrell another look. “I’ll talk to you later, bro,” Jerome said, hitting Tyrell just hard enough in the stomach with his fist for Tyrell to know that his brother was testing him. “You’ve been working out.”
“Just get out and leave us alone,” Tyrell repeated, staring back at his brother.
Jerome chuckled again and flashed a smile at Charlotte before he walked out of the door, not bothering to close it behind him. Tyrell walked over and quietly shut and locked the door. He would need to replace the locks again and maybe add a few more. Turning, he stared at his grandmother. Tears glittered in her eyes for a moment before she blinked them away. He wasn’t sure if they were tears of anger or sadness.
“You need to be careful when you go out, Grandma,” Tyrell said, walking over and bending to brush a kiss against her cheek. “I’ll help you with dinner.”
“You stay away from him, Tyrell,” Charlotte ordered, turning back toward the kitchen. “You’re a good boy. Men like Jerome, they don’t know no better. You stay away from him and follow your dreams.”
“I will,” Tyrell promised. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Charlotte nodded. Tyrell turned and walked down the narrow hallway. The house was only a two bedroom, one bath, but it was big enough for the two of them. Tyrell frowned when he saw that the door to his bedroom was open. With a muttered curse, he pushed it the rest of the way open. He gasped in dismay when he saw that it had been trashed. Setting his backpack down on the floor next to the door, he turned to the bedroom across from his and pushed it open. His grandmother’s room had been turned upside down as well. There was no way he would be able to hide the fact from her. Returning to his room, he hurried over to the closet. He pushed the dresser drawer leaning against it away and reached up onto the top shelf, feeling for the shoebox he had placed up there. It was gone! Stepping back, he shoved a pile of clothes to the side. Still nothing.
Turning, he caught a glimpse of the box between the bed and the wall. He slowly walked over to it and picked it up. He knew immediately that there was nothing in it. His hand shook as he opened the lid to it. Inside the empty box was written two words – Join me.
“The devil’s done taken that boy’s soul,” Charlotte said tiredly from the doorway.
Tears of anger burned in Tyrell’s eyes. He swallowed and nodded as he sank down on the edge of the bed, holding the box that had held his future in it. He bent forward and picked up one of the items that had been in the box. It was a picture of his grandmother cooking. The lighting had been perfect, and he had instinctively snapped the picture. He had won the new camera that he had carefully stored in the shoebox with this photo. He was learning how to use it in the hopes of entering more contests or maybe even receiving a scholarship.
“Come on,” Charlotte said, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll clean this up and fix something special for dinner.”
Tyrell nodded, gently placing the photo back in the box. Food was the answer to all of life’s injustices as far as his grandmother was concerned. He rose, bending to pick up a copy of the National Geographic magazine that he had picked up from the library two days before. Smoothing the torn cover, he set it on the bookshelf next to his bed. One day he would be a famous photographer for NG and when he was, he would move his grandmother into a bigger, safer house in a gated community where Jerome couldn’t break in.
Chapter 16
By Friday afternoon, Makayla had made up her mind; she was telling Henry that she was quitting school, even before the incident that sealed her decision. Her finger moved to her swollen lip as she waited in the front office across from the receptionist who kept eyeing her. She gently touc
hed the inside of her lip with her tongue; at least she didn’t taste blood anymore.
Her luck had run out during lunch about an hour before. Alicia and her two friends had cornered her in the central area where most of the kids hung out during lunch. There were a scattering of picnic tables bolted to the ground and benches lining the covered walkways that quickly filled. She had found a place near the outer building which contained the band room and some of the science classes.
She cursed when she adjusted her backpack on her lap and felt a twinge. She would be sporting a few nice bruises by tomorrow. Her eyes shifted to the outer doors when she heard the buzzer.
“You can come in now,” the receptionist said.
Makayla grimaced and looked away when she saw Henry coming through the door leading into the office. His eyes swept over her, pausing for a moment on her mouth before the receptionist asked him what he needed.
“I’m Makayla’s grandfather,” he said in a gruff voice. “The school called to say she was involved in a fight.”
“If you sign in on the sheet, I’ll let the principal and SRO know that you are here,” the receptionist said, reaching for the phone.
Henry just nodded and quickly signed his name. He turned and walked over to her. Makayla glanced at him before looking away.
“You okay?” He asked.
Makayla shrugged. “I’m in better shape than the other three girls,” she replied in a stiff voice.
“Mr. Summerlin,” a man in a suit called out.
Henry rose and turned, waiting for Makayla. She stood, wincing as she felt another bruise on her leg. She stepped through the door the principal was holding open and turned to the right when he motioned for her and Henry to step inside.
She walked over to the long table set up to the side, glancing over her shoulder when Mr. Davis closed the door behind him. Dropping her backpack next to a chair, she sat down and leaned forward. Henry pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.