nibbling.
“Your mother said you made some new friends,” Dad said. I figured he was talking about Gambeh and Tokie.
“It’s just some little kids who play outside,” I told him.
“Matt, too,” he reminded me.
“Yeah, Matt’s okay.”
“So, are you going to play with any of them today?” Dad asked.
“I might go hang out with Matt,” I told him. Like Mom, he didn’t know that kids my age didn’t “play” with their friends. They hung out, or whatever. They played games together, too, but that wasn’t the same thing.
“See, you
are
making friends,” he pointed out. Ah, that’s what it was about. A little “I told you so,” because back in Dayton I was worried about moving somewhere I didn’t know anybody.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and turned his attention to his pancakes. He didn’t even ask Law about his friends, because he knew Law was doing fine.
We finished the dishes, and I went back to my bedroom. My snake was coiled up on the bed, looking at me innocently, like it had been there the whole time. I shut the door and braced it with a chair, the way they do in movies. I knew I should just get the mamba out of the apartment, but I wanted to do something first.
“Did you ever want to be a model?” I asked the snake. It lifted its head a smidgen, and I took it as a nod. I turned the notebook to a clean page and tried to draw its head. It was all shapes. The eyes were three perfect circles each, circles inside circles. The nose was an upside-down valentineheart bracketed by pentagons and rhombuses. The lower lip was a triangle held up by angel wings. Four teardrops came together at the bottom of its jaw, like a four-leaf clover. It was so cleverly put together, like a well-designed machine.
Someone rattled the knob. I jumped up, and the snake bolted, slipping away and hiding under the bed.
“Linus, how come you’re in there with the door shut?” It was Mom.
“Law shuts his door all the time,” I answered.
“I know,” she said. She paused. “I’m just not used to you doing it.”
I moved the chair and cracked the door open. “It’s no big deal, anyway. I’m just drawing.”
“Matt is on the phone.”
“Oh, right.” I’d said the day before that we’d play Pellucidar, and I never got back to him.
I told Matt I’d be over in a bit, then went back to my room and dug a nylon sports bag out of my closet. It had rainbow-colored straps that looked like Mork’s suspenders on
Mork & Mindy
. Kids in Dayton called it my Mork bag, but I didn’t mind. Mork was cool. I zipped the bag open and spread it out on the floor next to the bed.
“Let’s go,” I whispered. The snake stretched toward me, rubbing its head on my hand before sliding into the bag. It coiled up and pulled its head down. I zipped the bag, but not quite all the way. I wanted to make sure the snake got enough air.
“I’m heading out for a while!” I announced.
Nobody noticed me leave. I went down the steps and toward the tall grass near the car wash.
“It’s safe,” I whispered, setting the bag down and unzipping it.
The snake slithered out and disappeared into the grass. I waved goodbye until I realized I probably looked suspicious, standing there in the middle of a field with an empty bright-blue bag, waving at nobody.
I brought Matt back his skates when I went to play Pellucidar. Dad had even helped me tighten the loose wheels.
Darryl had some friends visiting. I thought at first that they were American because they had nicer clothes than most Liberians had. The black guys at the embassy must all hang out together, I figured.
“No skating inside,” one of the men said, grinning broadly. The other men laughed.
“Linus, that’s Jerry, and that’s Robert, and that’s Caesar,” Darryl said.
“Like the emperor?” I asked the last guy.
“Like the salad,” he said, and all the men laughed again. “Caesar has been in my family a long time,” he
C. J. Cherryh
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