Raven (5 page)

When we boarded the schoolbus on Thursday, I had my arms full. Jennifer had to do a social studies project, and she had chosen to make a large visual chart, but there was a good reason she had made that choice. One of her girlfriends, Paula Gordon, who was talented in art, came over and really did most of it. Jennifer pretended she had done it all, and when she showed it to Uncle Reuben on Thursday morning, he raved about it as if it were something a famous artist like Rembrandt or that artist who cut off his ear for his girlfriend might have done. I thought any one of the birdhouses William made in his wood shop all by him-self was twice the accomplishment, and yet I never once heard Uncle Reuben even mention them, much less praise him about them.

As usual, Jennifer basked in the compliments her father tossed like wedding rice over her. When we got ready to leave the house, she was very concerned about getting her precious project to school undamaged. She surprised me by pausing at the door, and in the sweetest voice she could manage, she asked me to do her a favor. I saw she had made sure to ask in front of Uncle Reuben.

"You know how rough the kids are on the bus, Raven. I have to protect my chart. Can you please carry my books, my notebooks, and my lunch bag for me? Please. Someday, I'll do you a favor," she promised, flicking her eyelashes at Uncle Reuben.

What else could I do but agree? I felt like some slave walking behind her, my arms laden with my books and my lunch bag as well as hers. She paraded down the sidewalk and onto the bus, holding her chart up high enough for everyone to see.

"Someone make a place for Raven. She's carrying my things for me," she announced.
It wasn't necessary. I always sat with Clarence Dunsen. She just wanted everyone to know that she could get me to do things for her.
When we arrived at school, she surprised me by taking only the books and notebooks she needed for her morning classes.
"Bring everything else to lunch. I've got to carry this around until social studies," she said in front of her friends, who stood there with thin smiles and laughing eyes.
"Why don't you just bring it to social studies now?" I asked her.
"And take a chance that someone might sabotage it? Never. Remember what happened to Robert Longo's ant farm in science class?" she asked her entourage. They all nodded. "Someone poured water in it and drowned all the ants."
"I wonder who would do that," I said dryly.
"Thanks, Raven," she said, taking her morning class books and shooting off before I could refuse.
I lugged her things along with mine to my first class.
"How come you have two lunches today?" Terri Johnson asked me in English class. I told her, and she raised her eyebrows sharply, the skin in her forehead forming small furrows.
"She's just trying to show off," I said, but Terri still looked suspicious.
"She could ask one of her slaves to do that. Those girls would be glad to do her favors. I've seen it. I don't know what she's up to, but as my granny tells me all the time, a snake can't be a rabbit," she added.
I laughed, but later I began to think a little more about it, too. Just before class ended, I looked at what I thought was Jennifer's lunch bag, only I noticed my name was on it. Why would that be? I, wondered.
I opened what was supposed to be Jennifer's lunch bag. We usually had the same thing. I knew because I had helped Aunt Clara make the lunches. There was an extra small pack wrapped in wax paper in hers. I glanced up to be sure Mrs. Broadhurst wasn't looking my way, and then I unwrapped the wax paper.
A cold but electric chill shot through my heart. I had seen this before. I knew what a joint was. I had seen and smelled pot around my old apartment. Lila Thomas had tried to get me to smoke it with her once.
I looked over at Terri. She saw immediately from the expression on my face that something was wrong. I lowered my hand to the side, looked at the teacher, and then opened my hand. When I looked back at Terri, she was nodding with satisfaction. Five minutes before class ended, the real reason Jennifer wanted me to carry her lunch was clearly revealed.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Broadhurst," the student office volunteer said from our doorway. "Mr. Moore would like to see Raven Flores immediately. He wants her to bring all her things, too," she added.
"Raven," she said, nodding at me. I glanced at Terri, whose eyes were filled with worry. I smiled and winked at her to reassure her.
I scooped everything into my arms, glanced once more at Terri, and followed the student volunteer. As I left the classroom, I stuffed the wax paper and joint into my bra. I had seen girls do this at my old school. No one would look there. It was a very serious thing to strip-search a student. Male teachers were terrified of even suggesting such a thing, and the girls knew it.
Mr. Moore was standing at his desk when I entered his office. He gazed at me and then nodded at the student volunteer.
"Close the door," he told her. She glanced at me with interest, stepped out, and did so. "Sit," he ordered, nodding at the chair. I sat quickly, and he stood over me.
"It has always been my policy to handle my problems in house, if possible," he began, gazing at me quickly to catch my reaction. "That doesn't mean I don't tell parents what goes on. I have an obligation to do that, but the rest of the world doesn't have to see our dirty laundry."
"What do you want from me?" I demanded.
His eyebrows hoisted with surprise at my courage. "I know you've had a poor background and upbringing, and that goes to explain poor behavior, but you're at an age now when you will be held accountable for your actions, young lady. I can assure you of that."
I looked away, my eyes fixed on one of his plaques, and waited.
"If there is something illegal in your lunch bag, I want you to take it out now, leave it on my desk, and go to class. Later, we'll discuss it, and believe me, that is a major favor be doing for you."
My heart thumped, and then I smiled. I leaned down and opened my lunch bag, slowly taking out the sandwich and the cookie. Then I turned the bag inside out and placed it next to the food. I waited.
"What about that bag?" he asked, nodding at the other.
"That's my cousin's, even though my name is somehow on it. I was doing her a favor. Her arms were full of books and her social studies project."
"How do I know that's hers if your name is on it?" he asked.
"You don't, but we have the same lunch, so it doesn't matter," I said, and took out the sandwich and the cookie. I did the same thing with her bag, turning it inside out, and waited.
His eyes went from the harmless contents to my books and then to me.
"Can I at least know what you're looking for?" I asked.
"Never mind," he said. "Put all that back."
I did so slowly. "I don't think it's fair for me to be singled out for no reason," I said. "It's
embarrassing to be called out of class like this."
His shoulders shot up as if I had snapped a rubber band in his face. "I have a very big
responsibility here," he said. "Many young lives are in my hands, and"--he lifted a thick folder--"I have read your records from your previous school. Frankly, if you did all this here, I would consider having you taken to family court. I'm not surprised-your mother's in prison."
"I haven't done anything wrong," I shot back at him.
"We'll see," he said.
"Who told you I did?" I asked.
"That's none of your concern. Very well, return to your classes," he ordered. "And just remember," he said, tapping my previous school record folder, "I'll be keeping my eye on you."
I got up quickly and left his office. The bell had rung, so the secretary had to give me a late pass. When I got to my next class, Terri looked up expectantly. I nodded and smiled to let her know everything was fine. After class, I told her what I had done and what had happened.
"She tried to set me up and get me into trouble."
"It doesn't surprise me. Jennifer and her friends are always getting other people in trouble," Terri said. "You better watch your back."
"I will, but she'll find out she should watch hers, too," I said.
At lunch, Jennifer and her friends walked over to my table.
"I'll take my lunch," she said.
"I don't know which one is yours," I said. "Somehow, my name is on both bags. Luckily, we both have the same thing." I handed it to her. She looked at the girls and then at me.
"I heard you were called to the principal's office," she said. "Why did he want to see you?" She smiled at the girls. "I hope you didn't embarrass my parents."
"No, it was fine," I said, taking a sip from the straw in my milk container. "He just wanted to know what we were having for lunch. He said he heard we had the best homemade lunches," I added, and bit into my sandwich.
Even her friends had to laugh. She fumed, her face so crimson I thought the blood would shoot out of the top of her head like a geyser, and then she pivoted on her heels and marched away. Terri and the girls at my table laughed so hard that others in the cafeteria stopped talking to look our way.
"I guess there's a little snake in you, too," Terri said. "What else? She and I are cousins, aren't we?" I said, and that made everyone laugh again.
But I wasn't finished, not yet, not quite.
On Saturday, Jennifer went off with her friends right after breakfast as she usually did on Saturdays. Aunt Clara tried to get her to take me along, but she resisted and complained.
"She doesn't have the same friends I do," she moaned.
"What does that mean?" Uncle Reuben asked quickly, fixing his eyes on me sharply. "Who are her friends?"
Jennifer shrugged. "She hangs out with black people. I suppose because she's so dark."
"No," I said. "I hang out with people of color who happen to be nice and not phony."
"Oh, and that's supposed to mean my friends are?"
I shrugged. "Because I'm new in the school, everyone is warning me about them," I said as nonchalantly as I could.
Her face looked as if she was facing a wall of fire. Before she could stutter out a response, Aunt Clara spoke. "You two should get along," she said. "You're just about the same age."
"I don't want Jennifer hanging out with any troublemakers," Uncle Reuben said.
"I don't hang out with troublemakers," I insisted. "It's just the opposite."
"Why can't she go with Jennifer and be with young people, too?" Aunt Clara asked softly.
"It's all right. I'm fine," I said.
I don't know why Aunt Clara suggested I go along anyway. She knew that Uncle Reuben would be home and would be watching to make sure I did my chores.
Jennifer wouldn't lift a finger, and she certainly wouldn't have wanted to wait for me.
Shortly after Jennifer left, Aunt Clara and I began our weekly cleaning of the house. William wanted to help with the vacuuming, but Uncle Reuben chastised him.
"That's woman's work," he growled. "Let them do it. Why don't you go play baseball or football instead of spending all your time in your room?" he complained, which only sent William back to his room.
I gazed at Aunt Clara to see if she would speak up for William, but she looked away quickly and continued to clean. We went upstairs to start on the bedrooms, and I began as usual with Jennifer's mess. It was worse than ever, now that she knew I had to do most of the cleaning. Aunt Clara felt sorry for me and joined me in Jennifer's room. She started with making the bed. When she lifted the pillow, she stopped and stared down. I kept picking up clothes that had been flung about with apparent glee. A blouse actually dangled off the top of the vanity mirror.
"What's that?" Aunt Clara asked.
"What?"
I turned and watched her put the pillow down and then pluck the joint between her fingers. She smelled it and looked at me. I approached and leaned over to smell it, too. Then I looked at her, my eyes wide, my head shaking slowly.
"Is this what I think it is?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "I'm afraid so, Aunt Clara."
"Oh, dear. Oh, dear me. Oh, no. I'll have to tell Reuben." She hurried out of the room and down the stairs. Moments later, I heard Uncle Reuben come charging up, his footsteps so hard on the steps the whole house shook.
"What's going on here?" he demanded.
I stepped out of the bathroom, my arms full of wet towels for the laundry.
"I don't know," I said.
"Who put this there?" he demanded. Aunt Clara came up behind him. I stared at him.
"I really don't know, Uncle Reuben," I said. "You didn't do it?"
"She was working on picking things up when I found it, Reuben. She didn't put it there," Aunt Clara said, and started to cry.
"And I suppose you don't know nothing about it?" Uncle Reuben followed.
I shook my head.
Uncle Reuben's eyes grew small and then widened. He gazed at Aunt Clara and then at me.
"We'll see about this when she gets home," he fired. He shot another angry look in my direction and then left the room.
"Oh, dear," Aunt Clara said. "Oh, dear, dear." She followed after him.
I set down the towels, looked at Jennifer's picture on her dresser, the one in which she had the most conceited grin on her face, and smiled myself.
Jennifer's reaction was predictable. As soon as she was confronted with the evidence, she burst into tears and pointed her right forefinger at me like a pistol.
"She did it. She did it to get me into trouble," she accused.
Uncle Reuben nodded. "I've been thinking so," he said.
"How could I do it? I wasn't in your room until I went upstairs with Aunt Clara to clean the mess," I said quietly.
"You must have done it before."
"Why?"
"To get me in trouble," she whined.
"Why would I do that?" I asked. "Why would I stoop so low as to put something like that under your pillow?"
She stared at me hatefully. Then she turned to Uncle Reuben. "Daddy!" she moaned.
"Jennifer's never done anything like this before," he said. "I'd bet you have."
"You'd lose," I said.
"Daddy, I didn't do it," Jennifer cried, stamping her foot.
"All right. All right. I believe you." He thought a moment. I could see there was an inkling of doubt in his mind. "We'll let it go for now, but be on the lookout for any more trouble, even the slightest. If I find drugs in this house again, I'll bring the owner to the police. That's a promise," he said, directing his words mostly at me.
Jennifer looked satisfied and glanced at me with an expression of contentment. "I'm tired," she said. "I have to rest before I go to the movies."
She hurried away. Nothing more was said about it, but when we left for school the next day, she hurried up to me before mounting the steps to the bus.
"I know you did that with the joint."
"It was yours. You accidentally left it in your lunch bag, but I got it out in time so you wouldn't get in trouble. I thought you would appreciate my hiding it for you," I said, pretending to be dumb.
She stared at me, and then her eyes filled with cold understanding before she stepped onto the bus. Later, I told Terri, and the two of us had fun telling our other friends. Jennifer avoided me most of the day. It was one of my best days at the new school, but I was still wishing it would all come to an end. I had had enough of Uncle Reuben and battling with Jennifer.
My hopes died a quick death when we got home that afternoon. Jennifer refused to talk to me on the bus and walked slowly so I would get to the house first. As soon as I entered, Aunt Clara stepped out of the living room, her hand clutching a handkerchief to her mouth.
"What's wrong?" I asked. Jennifer came up behind me.
"Your mother," Aunt Clara said. "She's gone and run off from the rehabilitation clinic. She's a fugitive."
"Great," Jennifer said, "Maybe she'll come for you, and you can run off together."
"Stop that talk!" Aunt Clara cried in a voice so sharp and shrill even I took note. "I won't have it."
Jennifer's eyes filled with tears. "You care more about her than you do me," she accused. Aunt Clara started to shake her head. "Yes, you do. But I'm not surprised," she added, and flew up the stairs.
"I should leave," I murmured, looking after her.
"Where would you go? You have to be with family," Aunt Clara insisted.
Family, I thought. That's a word I'll never understand.