Just Another Hero (9 page)

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15

IT FELT SO GOOD TO HAVE FRIENDS TO EAT
lunch with once more. Arielle hadn't realized how lonely she'd been. Dana sometimes ate with Kofi, since they had only a couple of classes together. But November, who always had new baby pictures with her, and Olivia, who was surprisingly laid-back and friendly, were becoming regular lunch partners.

They'd dealt with one another slowly and carefully at first, each cautious about what was said, but Arielle realized she'd really underestimated Olivia. She was smart and witty and clever. And she was
really
hooked on Jericho, who seemed to be just as into her. And Arielle could finally begin to see why.

I can live with that,
Arielle thought.

“Did you hear the latest?” asked November as Arielle walked over with her tray.

“You mean the You Tube video?”

“No, not that, but it is
so
not fair what they did to Osrick!” November exclaimed.

“Did they ever find out who did it?” Olivia asked, her voice as cold and angry as it had been on the bus.

“I don't think so.”

“At least nobody could see his face,” said November.

“Still sucks,” Arielle said.

“I heard Mrs. Witherspoon tried to get it removed, but it was too late. Everybody has a copy of it, and they've sent it to everybody they know,” Olivia said. “It's like spreading a disease. Once you sneeze, you can't suck it back in.”

“Thanks for the nasty image while we eat,” Arielle teased gently. She still wasn't sure how far to go with Olivia.

But Olivia just grinned and pretended to sneeze on Arielle's sandwich.

“So what's your news?” Arielle asked November.

November smacked her forehead. “I almost forgot! Susan Richards got fifty dollars stolen out of her wallet today! It was her deposit for her class ring.”

“Shut up!” said Arielle. “When did she realize it was missing?”

“Right after gym class. She was going to pay for the ring at lunch. You know, from those geeky guys who sit there and sell you stuff.”

“I let them sell one of them to me!” Olivia said, showing off the shiny ring on her right hand.

“I was going to order one,” Arielle said, “but my allowance has been cut off—permanently, I guess.”

“Just 'cause of the stolen iPhone?” November asked incredulously. “Your stepfather seems like one cold dude.”

Arielle nodded. “You don't know the half of it.” She narrowed her eyes. “He made me get an after-school job.”

“That's not so bad. Lots of kids have jobs. At least you'll have your own spending money,” Olivia reasoned.

“No, you don't understand. I have to give him my whole paycheck. All of it.”

“Until you've paid off the cost of the phone?” November asked.

“Until he thinks I've been punished enough,” Arielle replied. She couldn't tell them the rest of what her stepfather made her pay for at home.

“But I thought it was a birthday present,” Olivia said, frowning. “You shouldn't have to pay for your own gift.”

“Obviously, you haven't met Chadwick Kensington O'Neil,” said Arielle, squashing a cube of Jell-O.

“I don't think I want to.” Olivia shook her head.

“What about your mom? Won't she back you up?”

“She's afraid to make him mad. He might cut off
her
allowance! And then I'll have both of them mad at me.”

November and Olivia looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Where are you working?” November asked then.

“At that Smoochie's Boutique at the mall. If I had money, I could get clothes at a twenty-five percent discount.”

“Bummer. They got nice threads there. The other week I saw—” November was interrupted by voices shouting. Teachers yelling.

The girls looked up. Some kind of commotion was going on at the far side of the lunchroom. Then, unusual quiet. “Probably a fight,” November said in a bored voice.

But Dana came running over to their table. “Guess what?” she said, breathing hard.

“Kofi proposed,” said November with a smirk.

“Get a life, girlfriend,” Dana said, laughing at her. “No, there's been more thievin' around here. Somebody took Mrs. Sherman's wallet!”

“The principal? Who'd have the balls to do that?” November asked.

“When did it happen?”

“Just now! She was in here, doing lunch duty like she always does during fifth bell. She set her purse down to talk to a couple of teachers, and when she picked it up to buy her lunch, her wallet was gone!”

“Well, putting her purse down was dumb,” Olivia pointed out.

“Did anybody see who did it?” November wondered.

“Nobody's talkin' if they did.”

“I bet she's about to clock some folks!” said Olivia.

“She's locked down the lunchroom—nobody in or out until that wallet shows up,” Dana said.

“Where's Osrick?” Arielle asked, then hated herself for wondering.

“Sitting where he usually does—by himself in the corner,” Dana reported.

“Was he…was he…close?” She couldn't bring herself to say what she meant. But Dana got it.

“Actually, he was. He always waits until the end of the
line to get his food, so he was standing right by Mrs. Sherman when it happened.”

“Don't go accusing him yet,” Olivia warned. “What about Eddie Mahoney? He seems a more likely suspect, if you ask me.”

“Well, he
is
in the cafeteria,” Dana reported. “Kofi keeps tabs on him all the time—like a GPS system.”

“Was he anywhere near Mrs. Sherman?” asked Olivia.

Dana thought for a moment. “Close enough,” she decided.

“But my phone was stolen
before
Eddie got out of jail,” Arielle reasoned. “He couldn't be the thief.”

“No, your phone was stolen on the
exact same day
that Eddie came back to school,” Olivia reminded her.

“Hey, you're right,” Arielle replied. “But wouldn't I have noticed him hanging around?”

“Not if he didn't want you to,” Dana said thoughtfully.

Mrs. Sherman marched to each table like the tank she looked like. She had a megaphone in her hands. “We will stay here until midnight if we have to, but nobody is leaving this lunchroom until my wallet shows up!” she announced. “I hate to do this, but I am asking each person to voluntarily show me the contents of your purse and book bag. If you have not taken the wallet, you have nothing to hide, and I apologize.”

“Big difference between her reaction when my stuff was stolen and when hers was,” Arielle noted ruefully.

“Principals got the big guns,” said November.

Ms. Hathaway, Miss Pringle, Mrs. Witherspoon, and Mr. Tambori, who all had lunch that bell, as well as Officer
Hammler, the school police resource officer, helped with the search. Kids at every table spread their stuff out and were then dismissed. Arielle wondered if Mrs. Sherman was checking for iPhones as well. Probably not.

“The wallet could just as easily be in a pocket or a bra,” November reasoned.

“Yeah, but I guess if she starts with strip searches, the news folks will show up,” said Dana knowingly.

Arielle noticed that the teachers seemed to take extra time going though Osrick Wardley's things, even though the pile in front of him seemed to contain only his dirty Kleenex and scribbled math equations on sticky notes.

They did the same with Eddie Mahoney, who had a smirk on his face through the whole process. He even emptied out his jeans pockets. All he had was Spoon's zip drive and what looked like, from Arielle's vantage point across the room, a handful of change.

All of a sudden Miss Pringle shouted out, “I found it!” She had been digging in the garbage can next to the table where Osrick had been sitting. Her hand was covered with ketchup and mustard, but in it she held a slightly soiled leather wallet.

Mrs. Sherman sighed with relief as she took it.

“Is all your stuff in there?” Mr. Tambori asked.

“Driver's license. Credit cards. All there,” Mrs. Sherman said as she thumbed through her wallet. “But my money's gone,” she reported. “I had about twenty dollars in there. I don't carry a lot of cash.”

She picked up the megaphone and announced, “We have an all clear, students. The wallet has been found.
My valuables are intact, although the cash is gone.” She paused. “This has been very difficult for me, as I know it has been for you. I apologize to all the honest students, I appreciate your cooperation, and I grieve for the student who needs some serious help. We've got to stop this! If anyone saw anything, or knows the identity of the thief, please don't hesitate to contact me.”

She made the same announcement twice more before school let out—once on the public address system, and again through the closed-circuit television system.

But no one seemed to know anything.

Or no one was willing to tell.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 17

KOFI SAT IN DR. STINSON'S OFFICE, TAPPING
his feet nervously. He flipped through a few pages of a men's health magazine, tossed it aside, then picked it up again.

What is taking this dude so long?
he thought, checking his watch for the fifteenth time.

“Kofi Freeman?” a nurse finally called from a doorway.

Kofi jumped up. “That's me! I'm here.”

“Great,” the nurse said, looking as if she boiled teenagers in her basement. “The doctor will see you now.”

It was another fifteen minutes before the doctor finally sauntered into the examining room. Kofi had looked through every drawer and cabinet in the little room, trying to kill time. He figured if he ever ran short of cotton balls, he'd know who to rob.

Dr. Stinson, a tall, brown-skinned, broad-shouldered
man, entered the room with an air of authority. He wore his graying beard neatly trimmed. It made him look distinguished, Kofi thought. “How's it going, young man?” he asked as he checked the chart.

“My head hurts,” said Kofi right away. “All the time. It keeps me awake at night, and I can't concentrate at school.”

“Hmm,” the doctor replied. “I thought it was your arm that was broken last year.”

“Oh, that hurts, too!” Kofi added quickly. He rubbed his arm for effect.

Dr. Stinson took Kofi's pulse and temperature, then carefully examined Kofi's injured arm. “How are your grades?”

“Well, pretty good, most of the time. I just got accepted into MIT,” Kofi told him.

“Good job! Proud of you, son,” the doctor said, clearly impressed.

“But I'm having trouble concentrating,” Kofi admitted.

“Because of the pain?” asked Dr. Stinson.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“I see.”

Doctors always said that, Kofi thought, but did they
really
see?

After listening to Kofi's heart with his stethoscope, Dr. Stinson looked pleased. “I hear no murmurs at all. That happens sometimes with maturation,” he explained. “Your heart rhythm sounds great today.”

Kofi smiled. “That's 'cause my girl Dana isn't in the house! She rocks me, you know what I'm sayin'?”

The doctor smiled. “Ah, yes! I remember when a sweet young thing could rock my world and make my heart do flip-flops!”

“Back in the day?”

“Not so long ago. You'd be surprised.” He continued his examination. “Any other symptoms? Fever? Rashes?”

“No, not really,” Kofi replied.

“What about nausea or swelling?” The doctor was checking his eyes with a tiny flashlight. “And does anything seem to trigger the headaches?”

“Stress, I guess. I got a lot on my mind these days,” Kofi answered slowly.

“Anything else?” asked the doctor.

Kofi wasn't sure what the doctor was thinking. So he just said, “Uh, noise, maybe.” He thought about Crazy Jack and the pounding in his head that always followed Jack's adventures in the hall. That, at least, was very real.

“I'm ordering another set of X-rays on that arm, son,” Dr. Stinson said. “Let's see if we can get to the source of your pain and get rid of it. Your arm should be fully healed by now, and you should not be in any pain at all.”

“Okay, that's cool, but, uh, my prescription has run out,” Kofi said as nonchalantly as he could.

“I'll give you one more refill, but this'll be the last one. You shouldn't need these anymore,” the doctor said firmly. He scribbled the magic words on the small white square and handed it to Kofi, who stuffed it into his jeans pocket right away. Then Dr. Stinson gave him another sheet. “Take this to the lab to get the X-rays. I'll
call you with the results as soon as they come in.”

“Thanks, Doctor S. I'll get right on this.” Kofi slid off the examining table with a smile on his face.

The doctor, however, did not smile. “This is your last refill, Mr. Freeman. I don't want you getting hooked.”

“Aw, you don't have to worry about me, Doc,” Kofi said as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I got everything under control!”

But the way the doctor was looking at him made him uneasy…as if he didn't quite believe Kofi truly did have everything under control.

Kofi bounded out of the office, stopped by the drugstore, got the prescription filled, and swallowed one of the little white pills before he even left the store.
Gotta make these babies last,
he reminded himself.

He still managed to get to his job at McDonald's on time. He hated the smell of the skimpy brown burgers, the sight of piles of pickles and onions, and the artificial glop of milkshake as it fell into the paper cups from the dispenser. The place was always full of screaming kids and tired parents.

“I ordered this cheeseburger without cheese!” one lady shouted at him.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said as he tossed the perfectly good burger into the trash. “One hamburger coming right up.”

“I do NOT want a hamburger, young man! Can't you hear? I want a cheeseburger without cheese!”

“Yes, ma'am,” Kofi replied with a large, fake smile. “One cheeseburger without cheese, coming right up.” He typed “hamburger” into the machine.

“My son says his fries taste funny,” another lady complained. “I want a refund.”

“No problem, ma'am,” Kofi told her cheerfully as he returned her money. What he wanted to say was,
If your kid hadn't poured syrup all over them, they wouldn't taste like that!
But he didn't.

I gotta get a better job quick,
Kofi thought,
before I toss one of these kids into the french fry grease!
But he knew that no after-school job was going to be enough to pay for a school like MIT. He needed big money and soon.

When he got off at ten, his head throbbed and he was starving. Even though he'd been surrounded by food, he hadn't eaten a thing. He stopped by Skyline Chili, where the sauce was thick, the pasta was buttery, and the cheese was real. He ordered a five-way with everything, including onions.
I can't really afford this, but man, I'm starved!

He sat inside, sipped on a Coke, and munched on the food. He started to take another pill, then reminded himself that this was the last refill, and tossed the bottle back into his backpack.
I can handle this,
he thought.
No sweat.

He opened his cell phone and hit number one on his speed dial. “What's up, my sweet?” he said smoothly when Dana picked up.

“Nothin' happenin'. Doing homework. Where are you—eating at the competition again?”

“Nobody can compete with Cincinnati's most famous chili place, babe! I bet they serve Skyline in heaven!”

“And all the angels probably have onion breath!” she joked.

“I'd like to share some of my onion breath with you.”

“You turn me on even when you're being disgusting!” Dana replied softly.

“For real, girl. You know you're my only.”

“I know. I better be.” She laughed. “You always know just what to say to me.”

“That's 'cause
you
turn
me
on, just by the sound of your voice.”

“What can I say—I got the power!” she said.

“You got more than that!” he told her.

“Hey, didn't you go to the doctor today?”

“Yeah, I went.”

“He didn't give you any more of those pills, did he?”

“Nope. I'm clean,” Kofi lied.

“What did he say about your arm?”

“He said I'm Superman, and I got arms of steel.”

“Well fly on over here, put those steel arms around me, and kiss me good night.”

“Wish I could, sweet thing, but I gotta fly home. I still got homework to do. Besides, your mama would kill me if I came over this late.”

“I can handle my mother. But can you handle
me
?” she asked, her voice deep and inviting.

“Ooh, girl! You're one hot mama!” Kofi breathed into the phone.

“I gotta go, Kofi, before we burn up the phone,” she said. “I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you back.” He closed the cell phone and smiled. Dana made his screwed-up life make sense. Without her, he didn't think he'd make it to graduation, maybe not
even to the end of the week. Sometimes it scared him, how much he needed her.

When he opened the front door, he was surprised to see his mother at home, acting like a real mom. She had cooked dinner—it smelled like chicken with onions, his favorite—washed the dishes, and swept the kitchen floor. Her eyes looked bright and clear, and they reminded him of times when she always looked like that, when she went tromping through the woods helping him find buckeyes for a school project on Ohio. When they'd made a red-green-blue-purple mess of the kitchen table and floor when they dyed Easter eggs one spring. The times before she lost her job…two babies to miscarriages…the times before the liquor bottles started piling up.

“Hey there, Kofi,” his mother called out, bringing him back to the present.

“Hey, Ma,” he said as he tossed his book bag into the closet. “Something smells good.” He kissed her on the cheek and sniffed. All he smelled was Shalimar cologne, her favorite. He sighed with relief and surprise.

“I fixed dinner for you,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “But it's cold now.”

“You never cook, Ma. How would I know you had food waiting for me?” he replied as he grabbed her and gave her a hug. “But I really appreciate it—honest. I'll take it to school for lunch tomorrow. Kids at school will be jealous 'cause I have a home-cooked meal!”

That made her smile. “I wanted to celebrate your college acceptance. I really am proud of you, you know.”

Kofi blinked. “I told you about that almost two weeks ago,” he said, trying to be patient.

“Oh. I guess you did.” She checked her nail polish. “Well, you know how busy I've been,” she replied. “I can't believe you'll be leaving us to go off to college in just a few months!”

Kofi shook his head. He truly didn't know how his parents were going to manage without him.

“I have to mail the letter back to MIT real soon, Ma, to let them know whether I'm gonna show up in the fall. But…well…I'm not sure how to answer it.”

“Why? They should be proud to have my sweet, smart son showing the rest of the kids how it's done!” His mother reached out and touched him on his cheek, like she used to when he was a little boy.

Kofi jerked back. “Ma! How are we gonna pay for it?” he said, exasperated. “Have you thought about that for even one minute?”

“Yes, actually, I have.”

Kofi looked at her, stunned. “For real?”

“Have you already applied for the scholarship that's given through the post office for children of employees?” she asked.

“Yep. Filled out the application online and sent it a couple of months ago.”

“My boy, you're really on the ball,” his mother replied admiringly. “And what about the McDonald's scholarship for students who work there after school?”

“Yeah, I applied, but there's, like, a million kids on that list. It's a long shot.”

“Did you check with your guidance counselors? I bet they'd know about other available scholarships,” his mother said hopefully. “Don't smart kids get to go to school for free?”

“Not anymore,” Kofi told her ruefully. “I've applied for several grants and loans, Ma. But I don't know if I got any of them, and even if by some magic they come through, it still won't be enough.”

“We'd better speak to your father when he comes home. I'm sure he'll have some suggestions.”

“Like rob a bank?” Kofi said sarcastically.

“Kofi!” His mother scowled. “Your dad can be very resourceful. And who knows? He might just win the lottery between now and the time you start packing your bags.”

“Are you
serious
?” Kofi stared at her.

“Hoo-boy! I need a drink.” She went to the cupboard to find a clean glass.

Kofi slumped into a chair, knowing serious conversation with her would disappear into that glass of brandy. “Ma, should I mail the acceptance letter, or just go to one of the community colleges here?” He dreaded her response.

“Mail the letter, Kofi,” she said. “Tell them you proudly accept their invitation to enroll in their fine institution.”

“And the money?”

“We'll find it somehow. Have faith, son. Now get to bed—you have to be up early for school.” She poured three inches of brandy into a wineglass and took a sip.

Kofi trudged upstairs to his room and quickly finished his homework. As he brushed his teeth, he heard his cell phone ring—he'd downloaded a really cool ring tone last month.

“What's up, man?” said Jericho when Kofi flipped open the phone.

“Nothin' happenin',” Kofi replied. “Just talking to my ma about all the college stuff.”

“How's it look?”

“Pretty grim right now. I live on the Cartoon Network, man. Except the 'toons got more sense than my folks do sometimes.”

“Do they know you got accepted to MIT?”

“Yeah, but I may as well have been accepted to college on the moon. I don't know how I'll get there, or how I'll pay for it.”

“You can't turn down MIT, dude.”

Kofi flopped on his bed. “I haven't mailed the letter back yet—I'm still hoping for a miracle. That's what my father's praying for.”

“I feel ya.”

“What about you? Did you ever get that Juilliard audition rescheduled?” Jericho had missed his chance to try out for a spot at the prestigious school when he chose to go to the initiation activities of the Warriors of Distinction instead. “I know your dad was pissed at you for blowin' that off.”