going, they won’t be paying me at all. I’ll be working for free.
After some more blasé, blasé, I storm out of Barbara’s office and run into Sara. She’s changed out of her bathing suit and shorts back into her long-sleeved blouse and ankle-length skirt. She seems embarrassed that I caught her in her Pentecostal clothes.
“Hi, Sara.”
“Hey.”
“That’s a nice top.” I give her a big grin to let her know her secret’s safe with me. I like my biddies a little sneaky.
“Thanks.” Sara drops her eyes for a second and then starts to smile.
“You clocked out yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too. I’ll walk you.”
Please say
OK.
“OK.”
We walk out of the church and head down 138th Street. I figure Cookie’s going to tell her anyway, so I give Sara my side of what happened in Barb’s office. I prepare to defend myself, but Sara just listens without a hint of judgment on her pretty face. I keep venting, feeling better just to get it off my chest. “I feel set up,” I say. “Like Barb, Lou, and everybody want me to mess up so they can just fire me.”
“What’s the point of that?”
“I don’t know. To torture me, I guess.” Sara laughs. “You tell me why, then, ’cause I ain’t got no idea.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Sara says, shaking her head. “Stevie
is
a handful.”
“He’s a pain, right?” Barb, Big Lou, and Smiles, too, be actin’ like I’m the problem, but Sara’s a sweetheart, and even she can see Shorty Rock’s demon ways. “That kid could drive Mister Rogers to drink.”
Sara laughs. We pause at the corner to wait for the light, and she looks directly at me with those caramel eyes.
“Maybe Stevie’s such a tough kid because he needs a male role model who can handle him.”
“Word.” It crosses my mind that maybe Sara’s just saying all this to be nice, but I don’t care. She wants to make me feel better. After the day I had, that’s exactly what I need. We reach her building. “So you’re just going to go upstairs and…stay there?”
“As you’ve probably figured out, my parents are kind of strict. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through in order for them to let me get this summer job. Except to go to work and run errands…” Then Sara’s face glows. “I have to do some grocery shopping tomorrow. What was the store that you said that might have the ingredients I need?”
“The A&P.”
She looks back in the direction of 138th Street, where the supermarket is located. “One o’clock?” Then Sara smiles at me.
“Most definitely.”
“Take care.” Sara opens the door and steps into the foyer. She disappears inside, and while I’m bummed to see her go, at least I don’t have to wait until Monday to see her again.
“I got it, Q!” I wave the encyclopedia and yell so he can hear me over his drill. Once Qusay told me that schools were named after Islamic holy cities, I figured there had to be a good name for the Bronx that wasn’t already used. I broke out his encyclopedia set and discovered a city where Abraham and his family are believed to be buried in a sacred cave. “So the school in Harlem’s the Allah Youth Center in Mecca, right? And the Brooklyn one is called Medina. We can call this school”—I slap my hands against the book to make a drumroll—“Allah’s Youth Academy of Hebron.”
Qusay shuts off the drill, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s brilliant, God.”
I blow on my nails and rub them on my shirt. “Don’t mind if I agree.”
I continue browsing through the books I’m sorting. Of course, he has
The Autobiography of Malcolm X.
“So does this mean you’ll be joining us?”
“I don’t know, Q,” I say. “I’m not shopping for a new religion. No offense.”
“None taken, because the Nation is not a religion. Nor are we an offshoot of the Nation of Islam. We don’t even believe in some divine being who is out there somewhere,” Qusay says as he pokes the air with his drill. “The
After some more blasé, blasé, I storm out of Barbara’s office and run into Sara. She’s changed out of her bathing suit and shorts back into her long-sleeved blouse and ankle-length skirt. She seems embarrassed that I caught her in her Pentecostal clothes.
“Hi, Sara.”
“Hey.”
“That’s a nice top.” I give her a big grin to let her know her secret’s safe with me. I like my biddies a little sneaky.
“Thanks.” Sara drops her eyes for a second and then starts to smile.
“You clocked out yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too. I’ll walk you.”
Please say
OK.
“OK.”
We walk out of the church and head down 138th Street. I figure Cookie’s going to tell her anyway, so I give Sara my side of what happened in Barb’s office. I prepare to defend myself, but Sara just listens without a hint of judgment on her pretty face. I keep venting, feeling better just to get it off my chest. “I feel set up,” I say. “Like Barb, Lou, and everybody want me to mess up so they can just fire me.”
“What’s the point of that?”
“I don’t know. To torture me, I guess.” Sara laughs. “You tell me why, then, ’cause I ain’t got no idea.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Sara says, shaking her head. “Stevie
is
a handful.”
“He’s a pain, right?” Barb, Big Lou, and Smiles, too, be actin’ like I’m the problem, but Sara’s a sweetheart, and even she can see Shorty Rock’s demon ways. “That kid could drive Mister Rogers to drink.”
Sara laughs. We pause at the corner to wait for the light, and she looks directly at me with those caramel eyes.
“Maybe Stevie’s such a tough kid because he needs a male role model who can handle him.”
“Word.” It crosses my mind that maybe Sara’s just saying all this to be nice, but I don’t care. She wants to make me feel better. After the day I had, that’s exactly what I need. We reach her building. “So you’re just going to go upstairs and…stay there?”
“As you’ve probably figured out, my parents are kind of strict. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through in order for them to let me get this summer job. Except to go to work and run errands…” Then Sara’s face glows. “I have to do some grocery shopping tomorrow. What was the store that you said that might have the ingredients I need?”
“The A&P.”
She looks back in the direction of 138th Street, where the supermarket is located. “One o’clock?” Then Sara smiles at me.
“Most definitely.”
“Take care.” Sara opens the door and steps into the foyer. She disappears inside, and while I’m bummed to see her go, at least I don’t have to wait until Monday to see her again.
“I got it, Q!” I wave the encyclopedia and yell so he can hear me over his drill. Once Qusay told me that schools were named after Islamic holy cities, I figured there had to be a good name for the Bronx that wasn’t already used. I broke out his encyclopedia set and discovered a city where Abraham and his family are believed to be buried in a sacred cave. “So the school in Harlem’s the Allah Youth Center in Mecca, right? And the Brooklyn one is called Medina. We can call this school”—I slap my hands against the book to make a drumroll—“Allah’s Youth Academy of Hebron.”
Qusay shuts off the drill, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s brilliant, God.”
I blow on my nails and rub them on my shirt. “Don’t mind if I agree.”
I continue browsing through the books I’m sorting. Of course, he has
The Autobiography of Malcolm X.
“So does this mean you’ll be joining us?”
“I don’t know, Q,” I say. “I’m not shopping for a new religion. No offense.”
“None taken, because the Nation is not a religion. Nor are we an offshoot of the Nation of Islam. We don’t even believe in some divine being who is out there somewhere,” Qusay says as he pokes the air with his drill. “The
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