Darnell Rock Reporting (10 page)

“You were in the Army with my father, right?” Darnell asked.

“Twenty-fourth Transportation Battalion,” Sweeby said.

“How come he did all right?”

“ ‘Cause he did the right things,” Sweeby said. “He just found the right thing, or somebody told him the right thing, or he just knew the right thing. If he didn't get into the post office, I don't know what he would have done. But the post office ain't big enough for everybody.”

“Post office is a nice job,” Preacher said. “You got to be lucky to get into it. You got to find out when the test is being given, then you got to pass it high enough to be called.”

“And you got to have an address so they can mail you a letter saying you passed the test,” Sweeby said.

“You happy with your life?” Darnell asked.

“It could be better,” Sweeby said. “But God gave me fifty-one years so far, so how can I complain?”

“Hard luck is better than no luck,” Preacher said. “Down in Waycross, Georgia, they tell this story about a old black farmer who was working a tenant farm—”

“Man, are you ever going to finish this haircut?” Preacher's customer asked, annoyed.

“You better shut up before I raise the prices,” Preacher said. “Anyway, he was complaining about how hard life was plowing behind the mule ten hours a day for a ten percent share of that farm. Every day he walked down each row and complained to the Lord about how hard he had it. One day just as he reached the end of a row the angel of death showed up and said he had come to take him out his misery.

“ ‘Misery? That ain't me complaining,’ he said. That's the mule!'

“Angel of death struck the mule dead, and that's why you go down to Waycross today you can see an old fool plowing up a field all by his lonesome and just smiling to beat the band!”

Darnell smiled. “I guess that's the end of the interview.”

“You supposed to turn it over to your anchorman and he's supposed to tell us what's going to be on the late news,” Preacher said. “Hey, anchorman, what you got for the late news?”

“The lottery!” Larry said.

“I can deal with it,” Preacher said. “I can deal with it.”

Darnell shook hands with Sweeby, Preacher, and
the other two men in the barbershop, and so did Larry.

The sun was brighter than it had been when Darnell and Larry had gone into the barbershop, and there were long, black shadows across the sidewalk.

“How you think it went?” Larry asked.

“Okay, but a little bit scary,” Darnell said.

“Scary?”

“They were all talking like the same things happened to them,” Darnell said. “Then Sweeby got homeless. Even though he said he's not. How come if the same things happened to them it was just Sweeby that got homeless? I still didn't figure that out, and that's scary.”

“Yeah,” Larry said. “I guess.”

Darnell looked at the words he had written. It was his fifth try, and he still didn't like it. He tore the paper out of the typewriter, crumpled it, and tossed it into the trash can. Mrs. Seldes had said he could do it, but he knew in his heart that he didn't believe it. Slowly he picked up a new sheet of blank paper and put it into the typewriter.

He got up from his chair and fell heavily across the bed. He tried to clear his mind, to think of something else for a while instead of the article. He heard
the front doorbell ring, and a moment later, Tamika's voice. He got up to open his door.

“Hey, Tamika, how's Molly?” he called.

“Not too good,” Tamika said. ‘They think she's going to have to go to the hospital to have her blood cleaned.”

“What?”

“Her kidneys don't work right,” Tamika said. “So she has to go to the hospital and they put her blood through this machine that cleans it.”

“That sounds rough.”

“She said if she don't she could die.” Tamika took her jacket off and threw it on Darnell's bed. “How you doing with your article?”

“So far it stinks,” Darnell said. “I shouldn't have let Miss Seldes talk me into this mess.”

“She talked you into it?”

“She talked me into interviewing Sweeby.” Darnell took Tamika's jacket off his bed and threw it across a chair. “The guy from the city paper wanted to do the interview. What's that smell?”

“I put cocoa butter on my elbows because they were getting rough,” Tamika said.

“You just put cocoa butter on because you saw Mama doing it,” Darnell said.

“Why don't you call Miss Seldes and …” Tamika looked into Darnell's trash can and saw all the balled-up papers. She picked one up and read it. “This isn't so bad,” she said.

“It's not that good, either,” Darnell said. “I can't talk about it as good as Sweeby did. I played his tape and it sounded important. But when I was trying to
make it sound important in writing, it came out funny/ ‘

“Why don't you just write down what he said?” Tamika asked. “Or call Miss Seldes and see what she says?”

“Maybe,” Darnell said.

Tamika went to her room to start her homework, and Darnell looked at the paper he had just put into the machine. He looked at his homework assignment, decided to do it later, and closed his notebook.

The telephone was in the hall between his room and Tamika's. Darnell looked through the telephone book until he found Miss Seldes's number, and then dialed it. He thought she would probably be mad that he even called. He thought twice about hanging up before he heard her voice.

“Susan Seldes.”

“Miss Seldes, this is Darnell. You know, from school?”

“Hello, Darnell.” Miss Seldes had a pleasant voice.

“I'm just having a lot of trouble with this article,” Darnell said. “I interviewed the guy—his name is Sweeby—but I can't seem to get the writing to sound like anything.”

“How did the interview go?”

“Good,” Darnell said.

“Then why don't you just run the interview?” Miss Seldes said.

“I was thinking about that,” Darnell said.

“You have to edit it, of course,” Miss Seldes continued.
“You know, take out what's not relevant to the subject.”

“Okay.” Darnell picked up the telephone book and threw it toward Tamika's door. “Thanks a lot,” he added, before hanging up.

“What's up?” Tamika asked.

“Miss Seldes said I should just use the interview.”

“That's what I said.” Tamika put her hand on her hip. “You have any more problems, you just come to Miss Tamika.”

“You want to type it up for me?”

“What's in it for me?” Tamika asked.

“What do you want?”

“Go to the hospital with me tomorrow to see Molly Matera—”

“Uh-uh. Can't stand hospitals.”

“Uh-uh.” Tamika shook her head. “Can't stand typing.”

“What time we going?”

It rained the next day and Jessica Lee and Mark got into an argument in front of the school about whether it could snow before December.

“That's why everybody is always wondering if there's going to be a white Christmas,” Mark said, shaking his head slightly as he spoke.

“It can snow in August if it wanted to,” Jessica said. “All it has to do is get cold enough.”

“It can't get cold enough in August,” Mark said, looking around for support. “Everybody knows that.”

Darnell had already taken one copy of the interview
that Tamika had typed up to the
Gazette
office, and his father had dropped off another copy at the
Oakdale Journal.

“I'm proud of you, boy,” he had said.

The argument between Jessica and Mark was getting stupid, and most of the kids were leaving. He was about to leave when he felt a nudge in the small of his back. It was Sonia Burrows.

“Hey, don't be nudging me in the back,” Darnell said. “I started to turn around and give you a karate chop!”

“I got some news about the farming thing,” Sonia said. “Let's go up to the class.”

“The bell didn't ring yet,” Darnell said. “They won't let us in.”

“Then come around to the side of the building,” Sonia said.

It was pretty cool, even though the sun was shining. Darnell followed Sonia around to the side of the building, watching her wade almost ankle deep through the autumn leaves. Along the hurricane fence at the side of the building, leaves were piling in small mounds, as if trying to escape from South Oakdale Middle School. The thought of leaves trying to escape school made Darnell smile.

“So what did you find out?” he asked when Sonia stopped and leaned against a tree.

“You know the guy who fills out prescriptions at the drugstore?”

“Tall, skinny guy?” Darnell pictured the druggist in his white coat.

“Yeah,” Sonia said. “Well, he's a friend of my father
and he was raised on a farm. He said that it's really hard to grow food in the city because the dirt hasn't been cared for. But he thinks the college would help out. They have people over there who know a lot about horticulture. You know what that is?”

“Farming?”

“Yeah, more or less,” Sonia said. “Anyway, he gave me his name and everything and said to call him if he can help. He said he read about you in the paper. He asked were you really smart.”

“Why did he ask that?”

“He wanted to know, I guess,” Sonia said, smiling. “I told him you were pretty smart.”

Darnell's first class today was supposed to be library and his second class was supposed to be English. He had planned to do his English homework in library, so when Mrs. Finley announced that they were going to have English first and then library, he knew he was going to get into trouble. He had spent the whole evening working on his article about Sweeby and hadn't written the book report that was due. His only hope was that she wouldn't check homework.

“Is there anybody here who has not done the book report?” Mrs. Finley asked.

Two hands went up quickly, and then three more went up slowly. Eddie Latimer held up his hand but tried to hide it behind the girl in front of him.

“Darnell, did you do the report?” Mrs. Finley asked.

“What report?” he asked.

He knew what report she meant, but couldn't think of anything else to say.

Mrs. Finley didn't answer him. She just looked at him, and then at the other kids who hadn't done their homework.

“Darnell, I had begun to expect a little more from you,” she said.

“Can I bring it in tomorrow?” he asked.

“You had better bring it in tomorrow,” Mrs. Fin-ley said. “The best grade anyone can get on their report who has not finished it today is a ‘C If you don't have it tomorrow you will get an ‘F.’ Is there anyone here who doesn't understand that?”

In the library Darnell found a copy of
The Old Man and the Sea
and looked to see if he could find his place. The old man seemed poor and maybe a little desperate, Darnell thought. He tried to imagine how he felt when the fish were eating the big fish he had caught. Darnell knew the old man must have felt like they were eating his whole life. He thought he understood the story pretty well. He got out his notebook and began to write. He had just finished when library period was over and he gave his pages to Mrs. Finley.

Darnell was going to his locker when Miss Joyner spoke to him in the hallway.

“Hello!” She was smiling as if she were really glad to see him. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

Miss Joyner looked around, and then motioned for Darnell to go into the science lab. She closed the door behind them and asked how he was doing.

“Fine,” he answered.

“I just wanted to let you know that I have nothing against homeless people,” Miss Joyner said. “I think we both believe it's right for us to help those who have difficulties helping themselves. But I think some ideas of how to do that are better than others. You understand that, don't you?”

“Yes.” Darnell looked at Miss Joyner, wondering why she was talking to him.

“Okay. I just wanted to let you know how I felt,” she said.

She smiled again, and then opened the door to the science lab. She left first and went down the hall, her heels clicking on the hard floor.

“Hey, Darnell, what you doing in there with Miss Joyner?” It was Chris McKoy. Angie Cruz slowed down as she was passing, and Darnell knew she was listening.

“I was checking out how she kissed,” Darnell said. “She ain't bad for a teacher.”

Chris gave him five and Angie turned just enough for him to see that she had a disgusted look on her face.

Tamika was waiting for him after school and gave him her books to carry as they went to the bus that would take them to the hospital to visit Molly Matera. The hospital was big and cold-looking on the outside, but inside it seemed friendly. There were yellow and white gladiola in the center of the circular lobby. On one side of the lobby there was a gift shop with little stuffed animals in the window. They stopped at the desk on the first floor to get
passes, and a thin, dark woman wearing a badge that read * Volunteer' ‘ asked them how old they were.