Indigo Summer (11 page)

“I would never force a girl to do anything she didn't want to do.”

“Are you saying that Quincy would?”

“Wouldn't he?” he asked, as if he already knew about what happened on Saturday night.

“I'm going inside.” I stood, brushed the dirt from the back of my shorts. “You don't know anything about me, or Quincy.”

He stared into the creek. Threw another rock. I walked away slowly, hoping he'd stop me; run after me, but he didn't move. His back was to me. Another rock plopped into the water as I made it up the hill and to the side of my house. He never even turned around.

Marcus Carter didn't know anything about Indigo Summer.

 

As I searched my locker for my American history book, I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and the scent of Quincy's cologne dance across my nose. When I turned to face him, his haircut was fresh and he was grinning from ear to ear.

“What, you not happy to see me?” he asked.

“Where you been?” I asked, my hands on my hips. “I haven't heard from you in four days, Quincy.”

“I been sick. Had some kind of stomach virus thing going on,” he said. “My mother wouldn't let me come to school or talk on my phone. Or go to football practice.”

“Are you over it?”

“Of course I'm over it.” He smiled and reached into the pocket of his jeans. “I got you something.”

“What?”

He pulled out a small purple box, handed it to me. I opened it and held the silver necklace in the air. A big silver
I
dangled from the chain.

“You like it?” he asked and didn't hesitate to fasten it around my neck.

“Yeah, I like it.” I smiled and then planted a kiss on Quincy's cheek.

“Cool,” he said. “I'll see you after class then.”

Before I knew it, he'd bounced down the hallway, turned to look at me. When he saw me checking him out, he blew me a kiss. I blew one back. Once he was out of sight, I slammed my locker shut, ran my fingertips across the chain. I hugged my history book and took my time getting to class.

I was still Quincy's girl after all.

Marcus

As
soon as the last school bell rang on Friday, I made a mad dash for the parking lot. The leather seats were scorching hot as I started the engine of my Jeep. I let the windows down and pumped up the air. Tuned my radio station to 107.9 and pumped it up. I received the news that Justin had been home for a few days and was feeling better, and I had plans of taking him to the mall to pick up a pair of those sneakers from Foot Locker. I couldn't wait to see his eyes light up right after I blessed him with a pair of the new LeBron Nike for kids. He would be the envy of all his classmates and have all the little girls in his class jocking him. The shoes would cost me half my paycheck, but it would be worth it just to see the look on his face. I had to beg Beverly to let him out of the house. She claimed that he was still weak and needed to rest. But after much convincing, she finally gave in. Said I could take Justin to the mall, to McDonald's for a Happy Meal, and then back home. So we were working on a tight schedule.

When I pulled into the driveway, Justin was in a chair on the porch, his legs swinging back and forth as he patiently waited for me. He wore a pair of cutoff shorts, a faded X-Men T-shirt and those same worn sneakers that he'd worn every time I'd seen him. He rushed to the car, and Beverly yelled at him through the screen door.

“Stop running, Justin!” she said and then shook her head. “Boy, you are too full of energy.”

I waved to Beverly from my Jeep. There was no need of getting out because Justin was obviously in a hurry.

“I've been waiting for you all afternoon, Marcus,” he said, a grin on his face from ear to ear as he climbed into the passenger's side. “What took you so long?”

“I had to go to school, dude.”

“I know, but you got out at three-thirty. I started calculating the time as soon as three-thirty came around.” He snapped his seat belt on. “I did a Mapquest from your school to my house, and it takes exactly fourteen minutes to get here. It took you twenty-five.”

“I stopped for gas, man.” I laughed. “And I had to say goodbye to a couple of the honeys before I left.”

“Whatever, Marcus.” He chuckled. “I can't wait to show you the shoes that I want. They are so tight.”

“I already know which ones you want.”

“But you don't know my style.”

“What do you mean, I don't know your style? What's your style?”

“I have to look cool. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“I know, little man.” I laughed. “You want McDonald's first or after we leave the mall?”

“Let's eat later.”

 

I parked as close to Foot Locker as I could get, in order to save Justin from walking too far. He took off toward the double doors and I struggled to keep up. We headed straight for Foot Locker, and he zoomed in on the shoes that he wanted. It was a white, leather high-top sneaker sitting on the shelf just waiting for him. He picked it up.

“Here it is, Marcus,” he said. “This boy in my class got some just like these.”

“Why would you want shoes that somebody else already got?” I asked. “Get something different.”

“But I like these.”

The young salesman, who appeared to be about my age, approached and had overheard our conversation. He wore a black-and-white striped shirt, similar to one that a referee would wear, and the name Steve was plastered across his name tag. His haircut was tight, and I made a mental note to find out who his barber was. I hadn't found one on that side of town yet. He smiled and watched as Justin observed the shoe.

“If you like that shoe, I got one you might like even better, little man,” Steve said, and handed Justin a black high-top sneaker. They looked similar to the ones Justin liked, but it was something a little better about them. “These just came in today. They cost a little more, but they are a nicer shoe.”

“Whoa! Those are tight, Marcus.” Justin grabbed the shoe from Steve.

“You like those?” I asked.

“Yep, Marcus. I like these better. Can I try it on?”

“What size do you need?” Steve asked, and looked at me.

I shrugged. I had no idea what size he wore.

“I need a one and a half,” Justin said. “I think I still wear that size. It's been a long time since I had a new pair of shoes.”

“I'll bring a couple of different sizes out. Just sit tight. I'll be right back.” Steve disappeared into the back of the store.

“You sure those are the ones you like?” I asked, realizing that they cost a little more than I expected to spend.

“I like them a lot Marcus. But if you don't have enough money, I can get something cheaper.”

“Naw, man, you get what you want.”

When Steve came back, Justin tried on the size one and a half. They were too small, and Justin couldn't get his foot all the way in. He could fit the size two, but his toe was at the very tip. No room for growth, and who knew when he might get another pair. The size two and a half offered just the right amount of space. He started cheesing.

“How's that?” I asked, already knowing they were perfect.

“These are just right,” Justin said and put both shoes on and started strutting around the store. The new Nikes were fifteen dollars more than I'd intended on spending, but I didn't have the heart to tell him he couldn't have them. I had Steve ring them up, and Justin placed his old shoes into the box. Even though I had to listen to him go on and on about how cool his new shoes made him look, the look on his face was priceless.

 

As we strolled through the mall, Justin spotted a video store that not only sold games, but allowed you to test them out. He didn't hesitate to run inside, and I was right behind him.

“Justin, your mom said we could go to Foot Locker, McDonald's and back home. That's it.”

“Aw, Marcus. Come on. Let's just check out a few games. Just for a minute.”

“Cool, just for a minute. And then we're out the door,” I said.

Once inside, Justin had already picked up a controller and was giving the video game, Madden 2006, a test run.

“Grab a controller, Marcus. I'll show you how to play.”

“I already know how to play Madden, dude. I have it at home.”

“The new one?”

“Yep, I got it for Christmas.”

“Wow. I wish I had the new Madden. Most of my games are old. My mom can't afford a lot of stuff, but I know how to play because my friend got it.”

“You be good, and maybe Santa Claus will bring you some new games for Christmas.” I had already made a mental note that I was going to save up to buy him the new Madden for Christmas. I knew it was expensive, but if I saved just a little bit over the next couple of months, I could afford it.

“I don't believe in Santa Claus,” he said. “That's just some fake fat dude who wears a red suit and talks to little kids at the mall.”

“You a trip.” I smiled and shook my head.

“Yeah, I know. My mom tells me that.” He laughed. “Now grab a controller so I can whip you right quick.”

“You talking a lot of junk, little man. I told you I got this game at home.”

“Then you shouldn't be scared. Now quit your yapping and let's see what you got.”

He had me wanting to pop him upside his head. But before I could protest, I had a controller in my hand and Justin was whipping me. We were both caught up, and before long there was a Madden tournament going on in the store. Justin had drawn the attention of every customer in the store, and two of the salespersons as they gathered to watch him beat me. For a minute I was embarrassed that a ten-year-old could run rings around me like that, but suddenly it became my sole desire to regain my dignity. I had to beat him at least once. And that's what I spent the next hour trying to do. Completely lost track of time.

“Man, what time is it?” I looked at my arm, and realized I had left my watch at home. “Anybody know what time it is?”

A white guy in a business suit, awaiting his try at beating Justin, looked at his watch. “Six-thirty.”

“Aw, man, Justin. We gotta go.”

“Just one more game, Marcus, please.”

“We can't. I told your mom we wouldn't be gone long,” I said, nervously. I didn't know how Beverly would take me keeping Justin out too long. I wanted to be responsible and keep my word to her. “We gotta go.”

“Wait, man. I want my try at beating the little guy,” Business Suit said.

“Not today, man. We're out of here.”

I grabbed the controller from Justin's hand. Set it back in its place. Grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the store. He was complaining the whole time.

As we sat on a bench outside of JC Penney, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called Beverly. She wasn't worried about Justin and actually thanked me for taking him off of her hands for a while. And commended me for being responsible enough to call her. She said that as long as Justin was having a good time and wasn't tired, that we could stay out longer. That relieved my anxiety.

I pulled into the McDonald's drive-through, asked for a cheeseburger Happy Meal and a Quarter Pounder with Cheese value meal. Asked Justin to hold on to the food while I drove us to a small area airport.

“What are we doing here, Marcus?” Justin asked.

“This an airport. We're going to watch the planes take off while we eat,” I said. “This is my favorite place to come on a Friday night. Helps me to think.”

In the open green field, we found our places right there on the grass. We watched a plane take off and one land, all during the course of our meal. I stole a couple of Justin's fries while he wasn't looking, and he stole a couple of mine, and we laughed about how he had beat me in Madden.

“You should've seen the look on your face, Marcus, when I beat you.” He laughed that goofy little laugh of his.

“That's alright,” I told him. “I got something for ya.”

“What is it?” he asked, still laughing.

“Don't worry about it.” I really didn't have anything for him, except for a shattered ego.

It was a hot summer day, but the sun was already starting to set, and there was a light breeze sweeping across our faces. I told Justin to wipe the ketchup from the corner of his mouth, as another plane swooped down for a landing.

After we finished eating, we gathered our trash and then lay on our backs in the middle of the grass. Gazing into the blue sky, we patiently awaited the next plane to either take off, or for one to come in for a landing. It was the most peaceful I'd ever seen Justin, and for the first time that day, he wasn't running his mouth, asking a million questions, or jumping around. He was actually very still, as if he really enjoyed being out there in the open field.

I thought about the times my pop used to take me to the local airport. We'd lie in the grass and gaze into the sky, awaiting the next plane to either land or take off. We would talk about serious things like sex, girls and about the ups and downs of life. Besides fishing with my granddad, times with my father at the airport were my favorite times. We'd watch the sunset together every Friday evening, and talk about things that only Pop and I could share. We'd talk until it was pitch black outside and until the stars arranged themselves in the sky. The crickets would be chirping and the lightning bugs would buzz through the air as if they were enjoying our company. Those were the days.

After Step-Mommy-Dearest came along, times with Pop became few and far between. I was suddenly losing him daily and didn't even know it, until he was gone. We lived in the same house, but rarely had more than a five-minute conversation here and there, when once upon a time we were best friends. I needed him more than ever after the divorce, and he just simply moved on. Before I knew it, he was proposing marriage to someone that he barely even knew. It all happened so fast. Blindsided me. I woke up one morning and not only was my mother gone, but so was my father. I might as well have been an orphan, because that's what I felt like without my parents.

“Here comes another one, Marcus,” Justin said softly, as another plane swooped down and onto the small runway. We watched as it descended and its wheels hit the pavement with a loud skid. It was a yellow plane, old and sort of rickety. Its propeller made a tapping noise and the engine skipped a beat every few seconds, as if it was trying to catch its breath. As I glanced over at Justin, and saw how his eyes lit up over something as small as a plane landing, I wondered about his father and where he was. I wondered if he gave Beverly any money or if he just let her take on all of the responsibility of raising Justin. I wondered if he knew that he'd given Justin sickle cell anemia that caused him so much pain in his body. No kid should have to suffer that way.

“Justin, where's your daddy?” I had to know, so I asked.

“He dead,” Justin said. “He died when I was a baby.”