Authors: Earl Sewell

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #People & Places, #United States, #African American, #General

If I Were Your Boyfriend (20 page)

Wesley

esley, it's time to get up." My dad entered my bedroom and hovered above my body. He shook my shoulder a few times to make sure I was awake. "Come on, get up, I've already let you sleep for a few extra minutes."

"Let me sleep a little longer," I whined as I pulled my blanket around my body tighter.

"No, you need to get to the library so you can locate some books about Henry Ford. I want the paper you have to write on him to be completed long before it's due."

"Dad, I have four weeks to write that paper," I complained. My dad wasn't having it so he walked over to the wall and hit the light switch.

"Get up, Wesley, you don't have time to be horsing around." My dad left my room and headed for the kitchen.

"What's for breakfast?" I called out behind him.

"Cereal and milk," he shouted back.

"I'm tired of eating cereal and milk for breakfast," I grumbled as I sat upright on my bed. Placing my bare feet on the floor, I took a long stretch. I stood up and shuffled my way into the bathroom so that I could prepare for my day.

Once I was dressed my dad and I sat down and ate together. He was drinking his morning cup of coffee and eating a bowl of Cap'n Crunch while watching the morning news. There was a story about teens, their independence and drug usage. News reporter Angela Rivers was in the field doing an investigative report on the subject and offering tips for teens and their parents on how to deal with the issue.

"A driver's license is a teenager's rite of passage, a gateway to greater freedom as they move toward adulthood. However, for countless teenagers that journey toward independence can sometimes turn into tragedy. Automobile accidents remain the number-one killer of teens, a dilemma that has defied the efforts of parents, educators, lawmakers and law enforcement." Footage of a car accident that happened last week popped up on screen. The accident had been major news because three teens had gotten injured.

My dad turned up the volume on the television. "Let's watch this together," he said. I positioned myself in front of the television and listened.

"This year alone thirty-five local teens have lost their life through recklessness and driving under the influence of alcohol. Law enforcement authorities say that many teenagers don't have to go through the hassle of getting a fake identification card in order to purchase alcohol. Many of them only have to go as far as their parents' cabinet to find a variety of choices." The camera panned to a grim-faced police officer. "It's the parents' job to guide their children through their teen years. I would recommend that parents dispose of or lock up any alcoholic beverages in their home that teens have direct access to," stated the police officer. The serious expression of his face conveyed that he had seen has seen a fair amount of tragedy. "Experts recommend keeping an open line of communication with your teenager, as well as taking a positive and active role in their life. Learn who their friends are and keep a close eye out for any sudden unexplained changes in behavior and attitude. It could be an indication that something has gone wrong. Teens are most vulnerable to making a bad decision when they're hanging around their friends without the supervision of an adult. Responsible parents may want to consider making their home a safe place where teens can hang out and still have their privacy," Angela Rivers concluded. My dad lowered the volume on the television.

"New rule," he began. "I realize that there may come a time where you find yourself in a situation where your friends are doing things that you're not in agreement with. If you ever find yourself in a bad situation, I want you to call me. I'll come and get you from any place at any time. No questions asked," he said.

"What do you mean by 'no questions asked'?"

"It means that I will not ask questions and I will not preach to you. It means that my main concern would be for your safety and well-being. When you're ready to talk about whatever the situation was, I'll be here for you. What I'm driving at here, Wesley, is that you have options. You're in control of your own actions and not your friends'. If you're ever in a jam I'll always be the person you can count on."

"Dad, as far as I'm concerned you've already proven that to me," I said. My dad smiled at me warmly.

"So, how is school going?" he asked.

"Okay. I had to get rid of some friends. One guy named Ed Daley thinks that I got brainwashed while I was locked up. He didn't want to believe that I'd gone cold turkey and stopped drinking."

"Let me guess, he said that he liked the old you better, right?" my dad asked.

"Yeah, how did you know that?" I was curious.

"Misery loves company. It sounds as if Ed is miserable and now he has to either change his life or find someone new to be miserable with."

"Knowing Ed, he is going to find someone else to be unhappy with. I also stopped hanging around the crew that I used to hang with. In fact, they kind of disowned me now so I really feel like a loner."

"Give the new you some time. You'll find new friends who have the same interests."

"Trust me, I don't mind being a loner. It doesn't bother me one bit. There is a certain type of freedom that comes with being a loner," I said. "I don't have anyone influencing me and it keeps me out of trouble."

"Well, don't become too much of a loner because you will have to interact with people. You just have to be a little more selective and hang around students who are positive and who make you feel good about who you are. You don't want to select friends who belittle you."

"I feel what you're saying," I answered as I chomped on my cereal.

"Have you talked to your mother?" he asked.

"No," I answered dryly.

"Has she tried to contact you at all?" he asked.

"No," I answered again.

"Wesley, regardless of everything she has done, she's still your mom."

"I know that, but right now, I'm enjoying not being around her. I'm not ready to see her or talk to her." My words were cold and icy but that was the way I felt.

"Well, it's time for me to head off to work." My dad decided not to push the issue. "I'll be home around 4:00 p.m. to see how you're doing with your paper."

"Okay, see you later," I said, before changing the channel.
The Simpsons
was on so I turned up the volume.

"Don't be late," my dad said as he walked out the door.

"I won't," I answered as I laughed at Homer Simpson guzzling beer and then belching loudly.

I placed my duffel bag on one of the wooden tables at my school's library. Walking over to the card catalog, I found the drawer for the letter
F
and thumbed through the index until I found several cards that listed books about the life and legacy of Henry Ford. I wrote down the reference numbers on a scrap of sheet paper that was sitting atop the card catalog. Then I walked to the other side of the library to search the shelves for the books I thought would provide me with good information. As I began searching the shelves I saw her again. Man, she's pretty, I said to myself. I remembered that her name was Keysha but that's about all I knew. She sat down at one of the computer stations and began tapping the keyboard with her two index fingers. It was clear to me that she needed to learn how to type and I was willing to help her learn, if she'd allow me to. I had to make myself stop staring at her as if I were some pervert with nothing better to do. Locating the book I'd been searching for, I made it a point to walk past her. I hoped that she'd notice me but she didn't. I wanted to make eye contact with her so that I could introduce myself. The last thing I wanted to do was approach her and catch her off guard. If I did that, I just knew she'd say, "Why are you bothering me?" or "I don't want no scrub so get away from me." Deciding to go back to the other side of the library, I brought my belongings closer to where Keysha was working. I figured at least I'd have a chance to look at her and drool. I positioned myself so that I was facing her. I studied her flawless skin, her full lips and the way she softly tapped her index finger on her lips when she was thinking about something. Keysha gathered up her belongings and moved to a table in front of me. She was now in my direct line of sight. Just looking at her inspired me to write a poem to express how I felt. I'd never written a poem in my life, but for some reason, my untamed attraction to Keysha demanded that I put my feelings down on paper. I removed my spiral notebook from my bag and began.

I am fascinated and captivated by your mystery and secrets. I want to know who you are and what part of heaven you came from. I want the combination to your heart so that I can place your emotions next to my own and feel the warmth of your spirit. You have enchanted my thoughts with the sweet melody of your mystery. My heart dances for you, my soul sings for you and my mind is consumed with thoughts of us being—

I stopped writing for a moment and focused my attention back on her. That's when I noticed that Dorothy Pam Pinkerton and two other members of the girls' basketball team had surrounded Keysha.

"You remember me, don't you?" I heard Dorothy whisper loudly. She had invaded Keysha's personal space. Keysha looked up at her and wrinkled up her nose. I deduced that Dorothy's breath had a rank odor.

"No one in this school likes you, Keysha! And I can't wait for the day the cops come and drag you out of here for good. This school doesn't need weeds like you. You need to go on back to the ghetto and make a bunch of ghetto babies and live off of welfare. I heard that you and your mama were welfare queens."

I couldn't believe what Dorothy had just said to her. That ticked me off me, so I know it had to have ticked off Keysha.

"You say one more thing about my mother and I will stomp you into the ground."

"Come on, I've been waiting to beat the crap out of you." Dorothy backed up and waited for Keysha to stand on her feet. Keysha was brave and fearless. She was outnumbered three to one and yet she stood up and prepared to defend herself at all costs. I quickly scanned the room for one of the librarians before their conflict got out of control. However, I didn't see one.
Figures,
I said to myself.
Whenever you're
sitting and gossiping with your friends, a librarian will
pop up out of thin air and tell you to be quiet. Now, when
I really need one, I can't find one.
I glanced back over at the girls and saw Dorothy anticipating Keysha's next move. Keysha was keeping a close eye on Dorothy while making sure the other two girls didn't attack her by surprise. Keysha quickly positioned her chair between her and the other two girls.

"Come on, do something." Keysha encouraged Dorothy to make her move.

I looked around for other students, but since it was still early, no one else was in the library.

"Ahhhheeemm." I cleared my throat and walked toward them.

"Dorothy, why don't you get out of here and leave her alone?" I said, positioning myself between Keysha and Dorothy.

"Wesley, if you don't get your narrow wine-headed behind out of my business I'm going to kick your—"

"I don't need your help," Keysha interrupted Dorothy. "I can take care of this myself."

"I'm sure that you can," I said to Keysha, "but just in case, I thought I'd help even up the odds a little."

"What? You're into beating up on girls now, Wesley?" Dorothy asked.

I looked Dorothy up and down.

"Last I heard, you were more of a man than your own father," I barked at Dorothy. She and I had some history of conflict that dated back to grammar school.

"Why are you even over here? Shouldn't you be drunk or high by now and sitting on the floor nodding in and out of reality?"

I hated Dorothy for bringing up my past addiction problems in front of Keysha. Her words hurt me a little more than I thought they would, but I didn't let it show.

Other books

All Is Bright by Colleen Coble

Improper English by Katie MacAlister

Joan of Arc: A Life Transfigured by Kathryn Harrison

Come Out Smokin' by Phil Pepe

Report from Engine Co. 82 by Dennis Smith

Antagonize Me by T.L. Smith

Dead Lions by Mick Herron

Moving Parts by Magdalena Tulli

The Chosen Sin by Anya Bast

A World Divided by Marion Zimmer Bradley