One True Friend (11 page)

THE BRONX NEWS

Final Issue

Editor, Star Reporter, and Owner,

DORIS WILLIAMS

Monday, September 28th

TODAY'S WEATHER. Perfect—warm with a touch of fall crispness

NEWS FEATURE. The Labor Day/
Sunday School Picnic
by D Williams

The Sunday school picnic is another major event of the year on 163rd Street. This one was no different. It seemed like everyone who'd been at the block party was also at the picnic—including Charlene's sisters and their mother; only Charlene was missing. The picnic was held at Bear Mountain.

Charlene's sisters, Doris, and her ex-friends rode
the same bus. All of the parents were on it, too. Since there is so much bad feeling among the kids, instead of piling up in the back of the bus so that they could play around and have fun, all of them sat near the front with the adults.

Only Charlene's sisters sat in the back of the bus, and they were quiet, which was very scary.

The adults laughed and told corny jokes—even Miss Connie, Charlene's mother. Would Miss Connie be this happy if her daughter was in some kind of juvenile home? Doris wondered. And would she be laughing and joking with Doris's mom if she thought that she was a busybody?

When they reached Bear Mountain, they found a good spot near the basketball and volleyball courts, with plenty of tables to put the food out on and trees to spread the blankets under. As soon as they had everything laid out, the Sunday school picnic began. Russell, Yellow Bird, and the other boys were everywhere—trying to get as much food as they could from their own mothers and everyone else's.

Doris had a sad conversation with her mother.

Mother: Doris, what's wrong?

Doris: Nothing.

Mother: I think there is. Seems to me you don't bother with your friends anymore.

Doris: Everyone hates me. They call me a snitch.

Her mother put her arm around her. "Doris, it's not
always easy to do what's correct. But I don't want you to ever feel bad about doing what's right! Me and your daddy are proud of you. Because you told about Charlene, the block association is getting even more serious about cleaning up that playground."

Her mother's words did not make Doris feel any better about telling on Charlene.

So Doris looked at the trees with their fat dark green leaves and the clear blue sky. There wasn't a cloud anywhere except the one that hung over her shoulder. Doris tried very hard not to feel lonely as she watched everyone else running, playing, laughing, and talking. Then the games began.

First there was the usual potato-sack race, which Yellow Bird and Big Russell won. The volleyball game, boys against girls, put Charlene's sisters, Lavinia, and the twins on the same team. When one of the twins made a good serve, one of the sisters yelled, "Go, twin." Then they gave each other high fives when the boys missed their serve. Perhaps they'd forgotten that they didn't like each other.

Then the most unexpected event occurred. Doris felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Miss Connie, Charlene's mama. "Hi, baby," she said. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Doris nodded and had trouble looking Charlene's mother in the face. She thought the woman was going to bless her out for talking about her daughter.

Instead Miss Connie said, "I just wanted to thank you, sweetie, for telling us about Charlene. She's with her grandparents down South and is doing well. And as for that wild T.T., he just got put out of gangster academy. I talked to his father, and Mr. T.T. is in serious trouble."

The cloud hanging over Doris's shoulder began to vanish. Maybe she wasn't a pariah anymore.

The girls won the volleyball game, and everyone got ready for the father-son basketball game, scrambling to get the best place to sit and watch the men lose to the boys like they do every year. Doris made a momentous decision. She owed Lavinia and the twins an apology, but they owed her one, too.

He ex-friends were sitting at one of the picnic tables, and as Doris walked over to them, she wasn't sure what she was going to say or how she was going to say it.

The twins ignored her, but Lavinia, whose mouth is never still, said, "Well, look who's here."

"I'm apologizing for calling you liars," Doris said very quickly, before she changed her mind.

Lavinia crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You want to be friends again, huh?"

"I just wanted to apologize, that's all. But you owe me an apology, too."

"For what?" one of the twins asked.

"Because you weren't completely correct. The sisters weren't fooling with drugs"

"Yeah, only your buddy Charlene."

"And that's not all true, either," Doris said.

Lavinia held up her hand like she was some kind of spokeswoman for the group.

"We apologize, too, for all of the things we said about you, but you can't be on the team again. We have a replacement for you."

"I don't want to be on the team," Doris said.

Lavinia made a space for Doris on the bench, and they nearly died laughing as they watched the boys wear the men out on the basketball court. It was a beautiful day.

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Still waiting for one drawing of a lake

OBITUARY

Yellow Bird and his family are moving!

Big Russell and his family are moving, too!

My Dear Amir,

So now you have the end of the story. I guess you could say the Sunday school picnic was a success, and I am no longer the most hated girl in the Bronx. But I'm glad this crazy summer is over.
Middle school is so different. Instead of having one annoying and boring teacher throughout the day, now I have five—one for every subject. (Just joking. The teachers are okay.)

I feel better because of what Charlene's mother said, but I don't feel totally good. Charlene is like a little itch on the back of my head that I can't scratch. She probably still thinks that I'm the worst person in the world. By the way, I heard that T.T. is handcuffed to his daddy and can't go nowhere without him.

Have you heard yet from the family court? What did the judge have to say? Will you be moving back to the city? We will always be friends to the end no matter where we live.

Love,

Doris

Friday evening
October 9th

Dear Doris,

I'm glad to see that The Bronx News is back. But no more issues? You're not the worst person in the world. I think you need to stop feeling bad about Charlene. One day she'll understand.

I am sorry I took so long to write you back, but I wanted to wait until I had some real news to tell you.
It's been so hard waiting every day to hear what the judge's decision would be. Mister Alvin said that no matter what she said, he'd continue the fight. "Take it all the way to the United States Supreme Court."

Mister Alvin tried to joke, but he wasn't like his old self. He never once asked me what I'd said to the judge. The old Mister Alvin would've been pumping me for information until Miss Grace made him give it up. He wanted to stop having family devotions, too, but Miss Grace insisted. The same thing was bothering all of us, so there was no reason to talk about that. Miss Grace would just read a short Bible verse and call it a night. It was too hard for them to do more than that, because they didn't know how long we'd be a family.

Yesterday I heard Miss Grace say, "His blood relatives have rights, too. Maybe we need to think about the reality. After all, we're just foster parents." And then she began to cry. But she always kept her usual smile for Ronald. He's in school, and trying to play basketball and look at all of the television he can get away with looking at.

In the meantime I finished the Smiths' portrait for them. I was just trying to make them feel a little better, but I realized while we were waiting that I really want to be here. Being here doesn't mean I'll be separated from the rest of my family, now that I know where they are.

Well, Doris, yesterday we finally heard from the judge and found out what her decision was. The judge said that Ronald was in a good home that he was accustomed to. She said that I could remain with Ronald also, since that's what I said I wanted to do. She also said that Ronald and I would have regular visits with our other siblings. But the Smiths have full custody of Ronald, and his adoption proceedings can continue.

Mister Alvin asked me whether I really wanted to stay here, and I said, "Yes, Pops." The words slipped out of my mouth so easy, not accidentally like before. "Now I can't picture myself living anywhere else."

Mom Smith cried when I said that. She's like you, Doris, She even cries over television shows.

I called my aunt and told her what I'd done. Well, she wasn't too happy, as you can imagine. She said that she thought I was being pressured. "My home is as good as anyone else's," she said. "We're your family. Your brothers and sisters are still worrying me and your uncle about going back up there. What were you thinking?"

She was so upset, I couldn't even talk to her. That's my aunt. "Auntie Gloria, I'm sorry for the way I treated you after my mother died, and for running away from you," I said. "And I promise to always stay close to all of you."

She was still upset when she put down the telephone. Pops said that she'll get over it.

The kids got on the phone then to talk to me and Ronald. You should've heard them. "Can we visit you again? When you coming to see us? Can you and Ronald come here tomorrow?" They sounded like they were fighting each other for the phone.

Mom and Pops say there's no reason why we can't spend holidays and vacations together, and they say that me and Ronald can call them as often as we want to. When I am grown, I can help take care of them, too.

High school isn't bad. The seniors look like grown men and women, and I see some ruffians roaming around, but I just stay out of their way. I'm in an honors art class, which I really like. We have to do a project, and I'm going to create a family album—blood family and chosen family—for my sisters and brothers. I'm sort of like an album myself, because like you once said, I hold all the memories—the good ones and the bad. Yesterday Mom Smith said something very nice to me. "As long as you think about your parents, they are never gone. They will always live in your heart."

I was so touched all I could do was nod my head. But one day I will tell her that my mother and father have always lived inside of me. The only
difference is that now they have moved over and made space for her and Pop Smith.

Love,

Amir

P.S. I hope you like this drawing of yourself swimming in the lake. Did I make your arms long enough?

9
A.M.
Saturday
October 17th

My Dear Amir,

I love the drawing. I showed it to my mother and she says that you are unusually talented. I feel like I'm really there swimming in the lake in all of that cool blue water.

I hope that everything is fine up there in Syracuse. I think you made a good decision. To tell you the truth, I'm glad you're staying with Ronald at Mom and Pop Smith's. They are too nice to hurt. About those high school thugs—just do what you do best. Draw pictures of them and chill them out.

So much has happened since I last wrote to you. I've joined the student newspaper staff. I also joined
the track team. And you know what? I love It! Imagine that! I'm not too bad, either. The coach says that I have running legs—long and lean. Guess what—my teammates call me Bean. That's my new nickname, short for Stringbean (smile). When I run they yell, "There goes Bean, the running machine."

I don't see Lavinia and the twins much because we're all in different homeroom classes. I see one of Charlene's sisters sometimes in the hall at school. Yesterday, I got the best surprise. She handed me a note from Charlene. Here is some of what Charlene said.

I guess you're surprised to hear from me—the friend you betrayed I hated you. I thought that my sisters were right about you—that you were just like all of the others.

Needless to say, I don't hate you anymore. Now I'm glad you told because I'm happy here with my grandparents in South Carolina. They are spoiling me big time. It's just me and them. They let me read to my heart's content—after chores. But I miss my dopey sisters sometimes and I miss my mother. I miss our trips to the library, too.

I like my school. The kids are not that different from kids in the Bronx. A whole lot of them are doing the same things. Someone's mama got busted for growing marijuana in their backyard. That's worse than the Bronx.

I promised everyone—my grandparents, my mother, and my sisters, and most of all myself—that I will never mess with anything again I don't know why I did it. Maybe I just went a little crazy. Hope we're still friends.

Charlene gave me her address, so that I can write her and give her all of the Bronx news. I might have to start up the newspaper again since all of my best friends are living someplace else. And soon I will be, too.

I guess the real big news, Amir, is that we will be moving from 163rd Street. My parents just told me. They're buying a small house (my mother says it's so tiny, it looks like a dollhouse, but it will be ours) on Long Island near my aunt. You know, Amir, I can't imagine living anywhere else except on 163rd Street. I guess the thought of leaving makes me sad and happy at the same time—a little like you used to be. I'll have my own room, instead of a space that we make believe is a room. Anyway, it won't be for a few months.

It doesn't matter, though, where we live—you and I. You'll always be my one true friend. I have to go now. The track team is practicing this morning.

Write soon.

Love,

Doris (Bean)