Game On (24 page)

Xavier smiled. “How?”

“I wrote her.” He grinned back at Xavier.

Xavier took the cordless and ran into his bedroom.

Everything was starting to look up.

41

DAKOTA

 

D
akota couldn't sleep. This was the main reason that she was in the kitchen fixing herself some warm milk. The concoction was something her mom used to give her when she was younger and couldn't fall asleep.

She stood wearing an oversized T-shirt, stretch pants, and fuzzy bunny slippers, warming a coffee mug of milk in the microwave. Dakota was anxious. She was having pregame jitters—tomorrow was the big day for schools across the city to stand up against bullies, and she was feeling a bit nervous. Tons of work had gone into getting other high schools on board and on the same page. Tomorrow had to go off flawlessly. There was no time for do-overs. This was it. Some said it couldn't be done— uniting high schools across the city to stand up for one common cause—but thank God, Dakota had pulled it off.

Despite the negative, sarcastic comments that had been made by some of her classmates, she was proud of herself. Standing up for a belief took guts. And to accomplish this goal without the support of her mother was bittersweet. It hurt Dakota when her mother told her that she was embarrassed by her daughter's cowardice. Said not to be looking for her to come to that school and support any of her daughter's foolishness. Commented that no child of hers would ever consider crying to others about raising awareness. Elaborated further that any real daughter of hers would go and beat the hell out of those who considered themselves too big and bad.

Her old girl would not stand in her way. She loved her mother, but she felt that God had given her this calling. So therefore nobody would get in her way of helping others. It was also cool about the support that she'd been receiving from Xavier. Her adopted big brother had inadvertently set the bar for any boy who would come around her sniffing for a commitment. If they weren't on Xavier's level, then they would have to get to steppin'.

The microwave bell sounded. Dakota took her steamy, hot mug and was about to go back to her room when the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath and set the coffee mug on the kitchen table. Dakota had half expected this. That's why she wasn't scared. The Internet had been invaluable to her study on past powerful leaders who had fallen to an assassin's bullet. They all had one thing in common: at some point or another, they knew that their campaign would end in bloodshed. Of course this gave her no comfort, but she was a soldier. And soldiers were the ultimate symbolism for protection. Stood to reason she wasn't scared of what was on the other side of her front door.

The time for fear was over. It was a brand-new day, a time in which she could no longer afford to be terrified of those cowards who portrayed themselves as strong. Maybe she could talk some sense into those who had come to harm her tonight.

The doorbell rang again. She wasn't afraid. No future in it. Dakota had to take a stand. Her movement depended on it. In the coat closet Dakota shed her slippers and pulled on some sneakers. Her main objective would be to reason with them. Let them know that there were other ways of solving differences. But she wasn't a fool. If talks broke down and she had to get physical, then it would be best to have on sneakers. Something comfortable and light to throw punches in.

In the living room she clicked the camera app on her cell and pressed Record. After holding back the blinds and setting the device on the window ledge, she focused on the front yard.

Dakota stood resting with her hand on the doorknob when somebody knocked on the door. She guessed that they'd grown impatient. This stuff had to stop tonight. Her mother wasn't much of a praying woman. Matter of fact, her mom didn't believe in too many things. Left Dakota wondering where she'd picked up on a praying spirit. She offered up a little prayer. When she was done, she clicked on the porch light and opened the door. They were waiting for her. With the exception of Bangs, every last one of the SNLG girls was out front.

Mouse, the new leader, stepped forth out of the darkness.

She said to Dakota, “You should have heeded our warning and put the clamps on your little event. As we stated in the card, you either stop or die.”

Dakota spoke in a strong voice. “Well, y'all gotta do what you gotta do, because there is no way I'm shutting down anything.”

The diabolical smirk on Mouse's face said that she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Suit yourself,” said Mouse as she balled up her fists.

42

XAVIER

 

X
avier sat in Mr. Chase's classroom still trying to figure out what had happened to Dakota. He'd gone by this morning to pick her up and there was no answer. It was so unlike her not to answer his phone call, either. He'd taken a look around the house, and nothing was out of place. The windows were intact. Doors were fine. Maybe she'd gone off with her mother somewhere. He'd hated to leave without answers, but Xavier hadn't wanted to be late for school.

Mr. Chase walked his tall self to the front of the room. The teacher was wearing khaki pants, a short-sleeve shirt made of blue jean material, and handcrafted Native American moccasins. He said, “Class, do you know what day it is?”

A boy sitting two desks in front of Xavier answered, “Today is the first day of spring.”

Mr. Chase cracked a smile. “I asked for the day and not the season, Mr. Richard Arnold.”

“Moron,” Dexter said to Richard, laughing.

Xavier shook his head at Dexter. “We turn in research papers today,” he said to Mr. Chase.

“Gold star for Mr. Hunter,” Mr. Chase said. “This is the make-or-break assignment. I hope you guys have brought your A games. Don't want to see anybody have to repeat this course.”

There was a rustling sound as the students retrieved their papers.

Xavier grabbed his, looked over at Dexter, and whispered, “I guess he was talkin' about you having to repeat the course, huh, homeboy?”

Dexter spoke in a low tone to Xavier. “The devil is a lie. I'm gettin' that hunnit on my joint and breeze this course, you feel me? How much paper you got on a bet?”

“Everybody pass their papers to the front of the row,” said the teacher.

Dexter continued talking. “I gotta holler at you at lunch.”

“You got it,” said Xavier.

At the end of the class Mr. Chase wanted to see Xavier.

Xavier told Dexter he'd catch up and stopped by the teacher's desk. He went into his folder and pulled out his essay. “Here it is, Mr. Chase,” he said, handing the paper over. “I want you to know that I busted my butt on this paper. Don't know if it will win the contest or not, but I put everything I had into it.”

Mr. Chase took the essay and smiled. “It's called optimism, Mr. Hunter. Personally, I would not have chosen you if I didn't think you were up for the challenge. I'm sure I will receive great pleasure in reading your research paper and this essay.” He flipped some pages. “Be in touch with you, Mr. Hunter.”

Xavier walked out of the classroom thinking that that essay had better win, being that he'd almost gone to jail gathering research for it. The stakes were high and a potential writing career was on the line. Given the positive direction in which his life was now headed, Xavier felt invincible. Like nothing could stop him. And with no Slick Eddie standing on the runway to big dreams, Xavier had been cleared for takeoff.

On the way downstairs to the lunchroom, Xavier tried Dakota's cell phone. It went straight to voice mail. He hadn't seen her anywhere on campus either. The posters promoting anti-bullying were flying all around the building, but so far, the captain of the event had been a no-show.

Xavier took a couple of deep breaths before walking into the cafeteria. His nerves were an irritating ball of TNT in his stomach. Dude was definitely afraid if somebody stepped to him the wrong way, he'd detonate.

It was a bit noisier than usual, but Xavier paid it no mind and moved in the direction of their lunch table. When he got there Dexter was sitting and staring intensely at a cell phone. The boy looked up with a very disturbed expression on his mug.

He handed Xavier the cell joint. “I think you should look at this, homeboy.”

Xavier took the phone and noticed that Dexter had streamed some Fox 2 News clip that he already had set up to roll.

“Just push the Play arrow,” Dexter instructed.

Xavier went off. “Homeboy, I didn't grow up in the Stone Age. Don't need any instructional video, so chill out, you feel me?”

“What is wrong with you?”

With his free hand Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “My bad, fam. Just have a lot on my mind.”

“Don't worry about it, homeboy. I ain't sweatin' you. On the real, though, you need to watch that clip.”

The clip showed the inside of a bank. It hadn't been rolling a couple seconds when Linus Flip walked into the frame and stuck a gat to the temple of a short, light-skinned female bank teller. There was no sound, but Xavier didn't need any to understand what Flip was demanding of the lady. Dude didn't even have on a mask—grill was in full view of the cameras. Whatever money troubles he was having had led him into this desperate act of stupidity. Xavier watched, shaking his head, as the terrified teller filled up the bag with the content of her drawer and shoved it to him. The clip ended with a dark-complexioned male security guard shooting and wounding a fleeing Flip in the left leg.

“Damn,” Xavier said, taking a seat. He couldn't believe it. The dude that had been holding him down for two straight years was probably going to prison with a healthy double-digit sentence hanging over his head. There was no way Xavier could help his homeboy. Dude was straight up on his own now.

Bigstick walked up. “What are the long faces about, fam?” he asked the two boys.

Xavier just handed over the phone. “Press Play, homeboy, and see for yourself.”

Bigstick took the phone and did as instructed. The clip had the same effect on him as it did Xavier. “Man,” said Bigstick, “I can't believe Flip went out like that. Is he on something?”

Xavier told him, “Not that I know of. He kept telling me he owed some loot to somebody, but the conversation never went further.”

Bigstick handed the phone back to Xavier. “That must've been some mean pressure the boy was under to make him do something”—he pointed at the cell phone—“like that.”

Dexter stepped in. “Not only that, dude got plugged in the leg. It's a wrap for ol' boy.”

As the three sat there trying to make some sense of why Flip went all stickup kid with it at the bank, the south door was snatched open and in rushed Samantha and Tiffany. Both were out of breath when they arrived at the table.

Samantha said, breathing heavy, “Da-Da-Dakota.”

Xavier's blood ran cold at the mentioning of his pro-tégé's name, but he stayed composed. “Calm down, Sam,” he instructed.

She tried to take a deep breath but nothing would come out.

Tiffany spoke up. “Dakota's up on the roof of the school and threatening to jump. We tried to talk her down but she wouldn't listen.”

Xavier didn't have to hear anything else. He pushed Tiffany out of the way and almost trucked a skinny guy who had the sad misfortune of walking in the door as Xavier was barreling out.

Xavier was the first one to the rooftop. Once he opened the door, there she was, with her back to him, standing near the edge and looking down. His mind was a funnel cloud of emotions. He had never been involved in something like this before. Didn't have the slightest idea what to say. It was no telling how close she was to jumping, so Xavier had to handle this thing just right. There would be no second chance.

Xavier was out on the roof when he heard a squadron of footsteps echoing up the stairwell behind him. He twisted his head to see Doug and a number of others.

Doug's face held overwhelming concern. He whispered to Xavier, “Don't. The police are on the way.”

Xavier ignored him and softly called out to Dakota, “Munchkin, what are you doing?”

Dakota just stood there as if she was a gargoyle statue perched on the rooftop of a Catholic church.

Xavier looked around. Nothing but ventilation systems were out there. The tar on the rooftop was slick, slippery—each step toward her was taken with caution. He stayed still. Didn't want to startle her.

Xavier had too much distance on Doug, so instead of yelling, Doug lightly clapped his hands to get the teen's attention. When Xavier looked back, Doug slowly shook his head as if to say, “Don't.”

Xavier understood Doug's concern. The security officer wanted to wait for someone with the proper training to handle tense situations like this one. But they'd be scraping what was left of his munchkin off the pavement below before the police crisis intervention team could get off their butts at the doughnut counter to respond.

“Munchkin, can I ask you a question?” Xavier said softly.

Dakota didn't flinch, nor did she acknowledge him.

It was freezing out and he wasn't wearing a jacket. But Xavier couldn't feel it because his adrenaline was pumping. “You have to talk to me, munchkin. That's the only way I can help.”

Doug got Xavier's attention again by softly clapping his hands together and holding up a cell phone. The distance prevented Xavier from seeing clearly. He backed up without taking his eyes off Dakota. What he saw on the screen was enough to make him want to seek out all the participants and start snatching spines out through noses.

Doug told him, “Students are looking at this clip. It's gone viral on YouTube.”

Extreme anger had Xavier grinding his teeth together as he watched nine girls pulverize Dakota. Three of them he recognized. Mouse was acting as the leader and directing others to stomp a defenseless Dakota. This wasn't the time for his rage. Xavier had to get a handle on his emotions. But God help those who did this to her.

Doug's walkie-talkie crackled. He removed it and listened. He clicked it and said, “Copy.” He looked at Xavier. “The police are en route. They just picked up every last girl in that clip. Let them—”

Xavier wasn't buying it. He took the phone with him and stepped back out onto the rooftop.

“Munchkin, the police have just picked up every last SNLG member,” Xavier explained to her. “Please talk to me.”

The wind picked up and Xavier was praying that it wouldn't blow her over the edge. He had his head turned around and was looking at Doug when Dakota finally spoke.

“Just think, all of this started because I looked at somebody in my first week of school,” she said, sounding like she was mumbling. Like she was speaking through swollen lips. “It's funny you can't even look at anybody today without them misinterpreting it as disrespect. When I looked at Bangs I had every intention of speaking . . . you know, being friendly.” She burst into tears.

Her tears triggered a few out of his eyes. The girl felt like she was totally alone in this world. And mentally that was the worst place to be, especially standing out on the ledge of a roof. “What can I say, munchkin? There are some real jacked-up people in this world, you feel me? But that's not on you. It's their shortcoming.”

Dakota finally looked up and turned her face to the side. If Xavier could've burst into raging flames from anger, the entire rooftop would've been ablaze. From what he could see, the right side of her face was badly bruised—black eye, swollen lips, and it looked like her nose could've been broken.

“I'm tired, big brother. My mother doesn't care about me—I might as well be dead. Every time I look up, those girls are jumping on me. I'm tired, big brother. If I do this, at least it will put a spotlight on the cause.”

The wind blew, whistling, blowing locks of Dakota's hair.

Xavier looked back and saw the police and paramedics. The boys in blue beckoned for him to let them take over, but Xavier looked them off and continued to plead.

“Please, munchkin, let's talk about this. You've come too far. Look at what you've accomplished. Everybody, every school is trying to model this day you created. The media is up here to do a story on you and this event you put together—please, munchkin, don't do this.”

She didn't say anything. Just kept looking over the edge.

“Munchkin, if you do this, what message are you sending to those suffering from being bullied? This is not the way. Show those bullies that you are strong. Fight back by helping others with this cause. So many victims will benefit from the event you've put together.”

She paused for a second. “Do you ever get tired?”

“Yes, I get tired, but when I do, I think of ways that I can make somebody else's life better. Munchkin, we're down here to serve and help each other out. I was shot in the shoulder but it didn't stop me. You know that.”

She turned her face to the side again, but this time there was a smile. “Big brother, if I don't do this, can me, you, and Samantha go to IHOP and have pancakes?”

Xavier let out the breath that he'd been holding. “Sure, munchkin. Anything you want. Just come in from the edge.”

The paramedics walked over, threw a blanket around her shoulders, and escorted her down the stairs. Amidst a thunderous ovation, Xavier walked through the crowded stairwell, being patted on the back by staff and students as he stayed close to Dakota.