Indigo Summer (8 page)

“Nobody special. Just some freshman.”

“Oh,” I said, changing the subject. “You forgot to tell me what you ordered at Applebee's.”

“Chicken fingers. Why?” he asked.

“Just asking.”

“You forgot to tell me where you and Quincy went for dinner,” he said.

“Umm…” I thought for a moment. Was Marcus a friend or foe? “I wasn't really that hungry, so we just went somewhere to talk.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes staring into mine. Marcus was easy to talk to. “Did he try something?”

“No, we just talked,” I lied.

“Well, you need to get some sleep. I'll holler at you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Marcus.”

“Sleep tight,” he said, and then shut his window.

Marcus

I
stood on the porch, ringing the bell as the hot Atlanta sun beamed down on my neck. On the other side of the door, I could hear the patter of feet rushing toward me. The door swung opened

“Hey, Marcus. It's about time you got here,”

Justin said.

“What's up, little man?” I asked, and gave him a high five.

“My mama's not here,” he said.

“You here by yourself?” I asked.

“Nope. Sasha's here,” he said and frowned. “She won't let me go outside and ride my bike.”

“Who's at the door, Justin?” Sasha asked and then appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a low-cut pair of jeans, a red cropped shirt and matching red-and-white FILAs. Her microbraids were pulled back into a ponytail. “Oh. Hey, what's up, Marcus?”

“What's up?” I asked her and smiled. “I'm here to tutor Justin. Can I come in?”

“I guess so.” She opened the door wider, and a strong smell of burnt popcorn brushed across my nose. “His mama know you're supposed to be here?”

“I come every week at the same time. She's usually home by now.”

“She started a new part-time job and asked me if I could stay with Justin a little longer today.” She smiled. “I guess you can come in.”

“Thank you,” I said and moved past her and into the living room. I took a seat on the sofa. Sasha's books were scattered all over the coffee table. “Did somebody burn some popcorn?”

“I left it in the microwave too long,” she said and looked embarrassed.

“Oh,” I said, and held my laughter inside. “Go get your books and stuff, little man. So we can get started.”

Justin took off down the hall and to his room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah. Some Kool-Aid would be nice.”

“I'll be right back.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

Justin rushed back into the living room and hopped onto the sofa next to me, opening up his math book and laying out his homework assignment. He grinned as he held up his math test. At the top of the page was a big red A plus and a smiling face.

“Check this out, Marcus!”

“Is that an A plus?”

“Yep!”

“Man, that's cool. Gimme some dap.” He knew exactly what dap was and balled his hand into a fist. “You alright with me.”

“What did he do?” Sasha asked, returning with an ice-cold glass of red Kool-Aid and handing it to me.

“He got an A plus on his exam,” I said. “Show her.”

He showed Sasha and she leaned over and kissed his cheek, then almost squeezed the life out of him. Justin blushed and then wiped all traces of her kiss away.

“You didn't tell me you got an A, Justin,” she said. “Just for that, I might let you go outside and ride your bike later. That is if your mother's not here by the time you finish your homework.”

“Alright!” he said. “We gotta hurry up, Marcus, 'cause I got some wheelies to pop.”

“What you know about popping a wheelie?” I asked.

“I know a lot about it,” he said. “Now come on, quit your yappin' and teach me some math.”

“He's tripping,” I said to Sasha and she started laughing.

I started explaining a few problems to Justin and then told him to work one out on his own. Told him to let me know once he'd completed it. Sasha had taken a seat in the chair across the room and started reading a book. She wasn't fully engaged in it, because I caught her checking me out a few times. She thought I wasn't watching, but I was; because I was checking her out, too.

“What you reading?” I asked her.

“Native Son,”
she said, and held up the cover of the book for me to see it.

“Richard Wright?” I asked. “Good book.”

“You read it?” she asked.

“Twice,” I said. “What do you think of the main character, Bigger Thomas? Was he a product of his environment or a cold-blooded killer?”

“Both,” she said. “What made you read it twice?”

“Just trying to figure out what was going through the brother's head. Trying to understand him better.”

“And it took you two reads to do that?”

“Yep.”

“So you understand him better now?” she asked sarcastically.

“A little better now.”

“So do you believe that we all are products of our environment? That if we are raised in bad neighborhoods, then we will grow to be bad people?” she asked, sounding all intellectual.

“To some degree, but not totally. I believe we have the freedom of choice. I can let my environment dictate to me who I can become, or I can become whatever I want in spite of where I live. In spite of the choices my parents made, in spite of everything.” I was sharing my inner thoughts with this girl that I didn't even know. Stuff that I thought about all the time; stuff that had my mind racing in the middle of a geometry class when I should be paying attention.

“Marcus, you're a deep thinker,” she said, and it was so nice to be able to talk to a girl who actually understood my thoughts. “What else do you think about?”

I didn't know if it was a trick question or what, but it was then that I decided to tell her about my Master Plan.

“I think about my Master Plan, and what I need to do to carry it out.”

“Your Master Plan?”

“Yep,” I said confidently. “It's the plan for my future.”

“Okay,” she said, and gave me a skeptical look. “Let's hear it.”

“I had a teacher once tell me that because I'm black, I will never do anything spectacular, like go to an Ivy League college, or receive a scholarship in anything other than sports.”

“He really said that?” her eyes grew big.

“In so many words.”

“What did you say to him?”

“What can you say to someone that ignorant? You just have to prove them wrong.”

“How will you do that?” Sasha asked, and I had her complete interest.

“That's what my Master Plan is all about. I absolutely have to maintain a 4.0 grade point average. I have to involve myself in my community and tutor kids like Justin here.” I smiled at Justin, who was still struggling with the math problem I had assigned him. I playfully popped him upside his head. He looked up at me and frowned. “Sowing into him is like sowing into my own future.”

“Marcus, you seem to have it all worked out.” Sasha seemed like she was impressed, and her eyes softened as she stared at me with amazement.

“If you don't have a plan, you might as well just wander around like a traveler without a road map,” I said. “What's your plan?”

“I'm going to a Georgia-based school, maybe Georgia State or the University of Georgia in Athens, so that I can get the Hope scholarship.”

“Are your grades good?”

“I've been an honor roll student since the second grade.”

“I could make the honor roll, too, if I could just get through math,” Justin said. “It's my worst subject.”

“It won't be for long, little man,” I assured him. “You're going to be an expert in math when I get done with you.”

“I'm done with my problem, Marcus,” he said, and stuck the piece of paper in my face. “Here, look at it.”

I grabbed it and worked through the problem in my head. His answer was correct, although he had arrived at the answer in a different way. I was pleased about that because that meant he was getting it. If he could work through it on his own, using his own way of getting to the answer, then that meant it was making sense.

“Yes!” I said and gave Justin a high five. “You are exactly right.”

“Now can I go outside?” he asked.

“You have to ask Miss Sasha over there. She's the one who's responsible for you, dude.”

“Can I, Sasha?”

“Okay, but I'll have to come outside and watch you.”

Justin didn't hesitate to run to his room, wheel his dirt bike out the front door and down the few steps leading from the front porch. In just minutes, he'd hopped on it and was doing wheelies in the middle of the street.

Sasha and I sat on the rocker on the porch in the cool shade. Silent for a moment. I was feeling her. Not only was she cute and had a nice body, but she was smart, too. How often do you find that all wrapped up in a sixteen-year-old girl? Most girls have either one or the other going for them. They're either very cute and maybe have a nice body, but dumb as a doorknob. Then there are the girls who are smarter than me, but look like the bottom of my shoe. You rarely find the best of both worlds in one girl.

Indigo had a little of both. She was pretty and had a decent body, and her grades were decent. She had other stuff, too. She could dance. I'd seen her play basketball once in the middle of the street and she was actually pretty good at that, too. She had a sense of humor, and a way of making you feel small even when you thought you were all that. I liked Indigo, and for some reason, I couldn't get her out of my head. From the moment I saw her, I knew I wanted her. But she was taken. Taken by Quincy Rawlins, the biggest dog in school. I had to at least give it one more shot before I moved on.

Sasha was nice, too. She was beautiful, and had a nice body. She wasn't ghetto like Charmaine or some of the other girls I knew. She went to a different school, so I wouldn't have to worry about spending every hour of the day with her. She was smart, and easy to talk to. I hadn't dated anyone since Kim Porter, who broke up with me before I moved to the south side of town.

“You got a boyfriend?” I asked Sasha.

“Nope,” she said. “I talk to people, but nothing serious.”

“You wanna go to a movie or the football game sometime?” I asked.

“That's cool,” she said, and gave me a smile with those beautiful dimples. “I'll have to ask my daddy, though.”

“Let me know.”

Justin flew past the house, his arms stretched out wide.

“Look y'all, no hands!” he screamed, and then started laughing.

“I'll race you, Justin!” Kevin, the little brown boy from across the street yelled, as Justin grabbed onto the handlebars again.

The two of them took off down the block at full speed, the nose of Justin's bike just inches in front of his friend's. Within minutes they were racing back up the block. They did this a couple of times and before I knew it, I heard a loud thump and Justin's bike fell over and his head hit the pavement. He was crouched into a fetal-like position, holding onto his legs and moaning as if he was in excruciating pain.

Before I could think twice, I had jumped from the porch and sprinted toward him.

“What happened?” Sasha asked, running toward us. “I just turned my head for a second.”

“What happened, little man?” I was standing over Justin, demanding an answer.

“It hurts so bad, Marcus. The pain is so bad,” he said. “It's worse than before.”

“Did you hurt your leg or something?” I asked.

“It's my joints.” He moaned. “You have to call my mama. And I have to go to the hospital.”

“Are you having a crisis, Marcus?” Sasha was standing next to me.

“Yes.”

“A crisis?” I asked, still confused about the entire incident. “What's a crisis?”

“Justin has sickle cell, Marcus. We either need to drive him to the hospital or call for an ambulance.”

I wanted to ask more about this sickle cell that had Justin on the ground moaning as if he was in great pain. Instinctively, I picked him up from the ground, and rushed him over to my Jeep. I gently placed him on the backseat. There was no time for calling an ambulance. They wouldn't get there quick enough.

“You comfortable, little man?” I asked as he lay crouched on my backseat.

He nodded a yes, but didn't look like it. His face was frowned and he was on the verge of tears. The only reason he hadn't started crying was because he was trying to be tough in front of me.

“It's okay to cry man, if you're hurting,” I said and then hopped in the driver's seat. Sasha was already in the passenger's seat with her seat belt fastened, keeping an eye on Justin as I pulled out of the driveway.

My heart pounded as I flew through the streets of College Park. Sasha directed me to the hospital, as I was new to this part of town and unfamiliar.

“He goes to Egleston Children's Hospital, Marcus,” she said and began trying to reach Beverly on her cell phone. “I have to call his mother and let her know what's going on.”

“You have to tell me where Egleston is,” I said. “I don't know where I'm going.”