Hide and Seek (2 page)

“It’s just like at school. All the other kids are talking, too, but Mrs. Jenkins says, ‘Razi, do you need help to stop talking?’ Angie’s talking, Esteven’s talking, Ronald’s talking, but
I
have to go to the Peaceful Corner. I hate the Peaceful Corner.”

It was a full-on cryorama, as Grandma would say, but Keisha could tell that Razi was coming to the end of it.

“Maybe if you have a good breakfast, you won’t feel like talking,” she said, tucking in the tails of Razi’s shirt. “I’ll think of something, Razi. Don’t worry.”

Razi rolled over and hugged his sister, smearing tears on top of baby Paulo’s drool.

“Are the toads hiding?” he asked, sniffling just a
little. The toads were hiding when Daddy melted a piece of American cheese over the egg.

“Let’s go find out.” Keisha led Razi into the bathroom and wiped his face with a damp washcloth.

“Now, while I run into my bedroom a minute, I want you to look in that mirror and say, ‘I, Razi Carter, am attracting the quiet energy of the universe to me.’ ” Grandma Alice taught the Carter children about affirmations and how you created your own good luck by thinking the right thoughts. While Razi looked in the mirror and repeated after Keisha, she ran into her bedroom and grabbed the pink ribbon off her bed. Pink and purple were royal and classy.

“Today will be a classy day,” she told herself, just before tossing her springy curls over her head and pulling them together in a high ponytail. She dashed back to the bathroom, trying not to think about cold eggs.

“Let’s go find some toads!” she told her brother with more enthusiasm than she felt. Toad-in-the-hole was Razi’s favorite breakfast, not hers. She liked her eggs spread out, not all stacked up and jiggly, the way they got inside the toast hole.

Daddy must have read her mind because when they reached the kitchen, he pulled Razi’s breakfast out of the oven and handed her something very different. “I saw you taking the phone call, so your first breakfast is
now toad-in-Daddy’s-stomach and I used some leftover potatoes to make you this …”

Keisha took the plate. It had a fried egg on top of a nice big mound of hash browns.

“What’s this?” Keisha asked, noting how thin and firm the white was—just how she liked it.

“I call it … uh … stingray-on-a-sandpile.

“It looks great. Thank you, Daddy.” Keisha gave Daddy a big hug, which wasn’t easy while holding a plate of stingray-on-a-sandpile.

“Better sit down and eat up, my girl. It’s almost time to head to school.”

Baby Paulo was smashing his breakfast with the back of his spoon, mashing everything together. Razi was eating his toast the Nigerian way, tearing it into strips and dipping it in his yolk. Not much food was finding its way into Razi’s mouth, Keisha noticed.

“Keisha, have you looked in the mirror? It looks like your ponytail went south for the winter.” Mama kissed the top of Keisha’s head, exactly in the center, where ponytails belonged. “You can eat and have your hair done at the same time.” Mama left the room and returned with an intake form in one hand and the round brush in the other.

Daddy sat down at the kitchen table with a pen. He pulled the intake form toward him. “We need a report
about this call, so, given the extraordinary circumstances, you are excused from the rule of not talking with your mouth full.”

Keisha noticed that Razi didn’t say what he usually said when Daddy excused Keisha from a rule—“That’s not fair.” He just sat there, dragging his toast through his yolk, then not eating it.

“She was rushing because she was late for work, so I didn’t get all the normal information.” Keisha was so hungry, she had to stop her report, pull off a strip of fried egg, roll some hash browns inside it, dip the whole business in her yolk and pop it into her mouth. Yum!

“I wrote her number down from the caller ID,” Mama said, separating Keisha’s hair from her elastic band.

“I remember her address,” Keisha told Daddy. “422 Joan Street.”

Daddy nibbled on the end of the pen. “That’s not far away. Right by Huff Park.”

“She was calling about a deer. She said it had a pumpkin stuck on its head.”

Mama stopped brushing. “And how did this deer get a pumpkin stuck on its head?”

“She said she left the pumpkin outside with seeds in it as a treat for the birds.”

“Let’s examine the physics of this situation.” Daddy
stood up and took a mixing bowl out of the cupboard. “So I’m a deer and I see a pumpkin with some nice fresh seeds inside it. Yum, yum.” With his head in the bowl, Daddy made smacking noises. “Uh-oh, it’s stuck. Whoa!” Daddy started lumbering around the kitchen, bumping into the counter and the table. “Who turned the lights out?”

Watching Daddy made baby Paulo giggle. His
jiggling tummy made the high-chair tray vibrate. Razi looked up from his plate. He started to giggle, too.

“Wait a minute!” Keisha said. “The deer could see.” She started to put another bite of food in her mouth but then held it there, remembering. “I know because the lady said it was going down the trail that led to the baseball diamonds. And you can’t take a trail if you can’t see. Right?”

“Well, then.” Daddy took the bowl off his head and dropped into his chair. “This is a wildlife mystery.”

“The other question,” Mama pondered as she snapped the elastic band in place, “is how does a pumpkin get stuck on a deer’s head? Pumpkins are heavy and slick inside.”

“Seems like he could just smack it against a tree and break it up,” Daddy said.

“Can we go to the park after school and look for the deer, Daddy? I don’t have jump rope practice today.” Keisha had won a place on the Grand River Steppers Jump Rope Team, but they didn’t have practice on Tuesdays.

“Let’s hope your daddy finds the poor deer before then,” Mama said. “Who knows how long he’s had this problem. I’m worried he’ll get dehydrated. Besides, we’re making your costume today.” Mama had found an
old sheet that she thought had enough snowy white parts to make the apron and the head cover that Phillis Wheatley, the first published African American poet, wore. As a costume, it wasn’t very exciting. What Keisha really wanted to be for Halloween was a Romany girl. Ever since Grandma told her about the Romany people and how much they loved their dogs, well … But Mr. Drockmore, their fifth-grade teacher, was giving extra credit to students who dressed up to give their oral reports in social studies.

Mama curled a piece of Keisha’s hair around her finger. “But let’s take care of after school
after
school. Now is the time to run up and brush your teeth and … go get the green ribbon.”

Keisha turned around and looked up at her mother.

“What? Regardless of what your grandma says, it is the best color for your purple hoodie.”

As they put on their coats, Keisha remembered her promise to help Razi stay quiet during the school day. Razi’s first-grade teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, didn’t allow children to bring things from home that might provide a distraction, but she sometimes made an exception for the super-squeezy concentration ball. It was a ball Big Bob had given Grandma to keep her fingers strong, but the Carters found that it helped Razi remember to stay quiet if he squeezed it whenever he felt like talking. Mama kept the super-squeezy concentration ball in a basket in the hall, along with the hats and mittens the children used when it got cold. It was such a warm fall, the children didn’t need their hats and mittens yet, so Keisha had to dig around for it. She stuck it in her pocket when Razi wasn’t looking.

The fresh air seemed to give her brother new energy. He bounded down the front steps, picked up a stick and ran ahead of Keisha. As he ran, he made up a song to go along with the rhythm of the stick he was dragging across every chain-link fence they passed.

“Razi!” Keisha called after him. When the chain-link
fence by the Tuttles’ house ended, the Bakers’ wooden fence began. Keisha knew that behind the wooden fence sat Harvey the dog, just waiting for someone to bark at.

Keisha blamed Harvey for making Razi say that if the Carter family ever got a household pet, he wanted a kitty,
not
a puppy. So far, Mama said no domestic pets. That meant no animals that lived inside. The Carters had enough animals to care for without adding a pet, thank you very much, and everyone who lived in the house had to pull their own weight. Except for the baby.

But ever since Keisha had read Beverly Cleary’s
Henry and Ribsy
, and
101 Dalmatians
and
Lassie Come-Home
, she was convinced that if you wanted to have adventures, it was much more likely with a dog. That was why she decided to be a Romany girl before she learned about the extra credit in Mr. Drockmore’s class. The Romany people had dogs all over the place, for protecting and hunting, and maybe for waiting at home by the caravan, with their adorable tongues hanging out and their behinds wiggling.

Sure enough, as soon as Harvey heard the stick dragging along the wooden fence, he started running on the other side, barking his loud, growly bark and making a ruckus of his own.

“Wait for me, Razi!”

But Razi was famous for ignoring his sister when he got scared. He started to run even faster. Would he remember to look both ways if he got to the end of the block first?

Fortunately, Mr. Sanders, their postman, was coming down the street from the opposite direction. He stuck out his arms and said, “In the name of the United States Postal Service, I order you to halt, young man.”

Razi leapt into Mr. Sanders’s arms, which was not
easy for Mr. Sanders because his arms were already full of mail.

“After that display of athleticism, I’m going to guess you are a track star for Halloween this year.”

“I’m not going to be a track star,” Razi said, breathing hard. “I’m going to be a police officer and give that dog a bad-doggy ticket.”

Keisha caught up. “No he’s not. He’s going to be an alligator. Mama made the costume this summer.”

“And what are you going to be, Miss Keisha?”

“Well, I was going to be a Romany girl, but I’m not sure because—”

“You will excuse my ignorance, but what is a Romany girl?”

“Grandma told me that I love dogs so much, I should be a Romany girl. They used to be called Gypsies because people thought they were from Egypt. But they really came from India.”

“That’s fascinating, Keisha. I think you should be a Romany girl, too.”

“For Romany people, dogs weren’t just pets. They were necessary. Romany dogs definitely pulled their own weight.”

“I’m going to be a police officer and make Harvey sit in the Peaceful Corner. He talks more than I do.”

Mr. Sanders put Razi back on his own two feet. “Why do I feel so confused this morning? Did I miss something?” he said.

“Oh, Razi, you’re an alligator. And I wasn’t finished.” Keisha turned back to Mr. Sanders. “I’m not exactly sure yet because Mr. Drockmore said he’d give extra credit to students who delivered their reports in costume. My report is on the first published African American poet, Phillis Wheatley.”

Mr. Sanders scooped up a few advertising leaflets he’d dropped on the ground. “That’s right. Zeke and Zack were trying to decide whether to be George Washington and John Adams or a hamburger and fries.”

“What are you going to be, Mr. Sanders?” Like Daddy, Keisha knew Mr. Sanders always dressed up.

“It’s a secret,” Mr. Sanders said.

“Tell me. Tell me! I can keep a secret,” Razi said.

Mr. Sanders ruffled Razi’s hair. “I know you can. But it’s such a big secret, I haven’t told it to myself yet.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Razi declared.

Keisha covered her mouth so Razi wouldn’t hear her giggle.

“What I
don’t
want to be is late on my delivery route. Or to make either of you late for school. So I think we’d better scoot.”

“Bye, Mr. Sanders.” Keisha took her brother’s hand and they set off again.

Even though Razi kept looking back and begging Keisha to let him run and ask if Mr. Sanders was delivering any packages for him, they managed to make it to school on time.

“And how is our Razi this morning?” Mrs. Jenkins hugged Razi as soon as he reached the first-grade line. Razi tucked his chin farther inside his shirt. She had on a wool blazer and Razi didn’t like the way wool felt. It was too scratchy.