The Domino Effect (24 page)

Mercifully, the game only lasts two quarters and, by the end of the first, it was like the Harlem Globetrotters vs. those stooges they beat by 100 points every time. When they started up again, Terence came out on the teacher’s side, and a little bit of a game began. Terence got the old guys involved, and the crowd cheered as they sort of made a comeback. Some of the teachers even started talking some smack to the youngsters, best they could, at least.

It was a lot of fun. Everyone cheered and laughed and it felt, for the first time, like we were a real school with real pride and camaraderie and all that. I got kind of sad for a second, thinking that this was the last year. Then I got back into watching the game.

With the lead down to 10 points, Terence switched back to the player’s side and the rout was on. He caught an alley-oop pass and slammed it home, hanging on the rim with his feet dangling above the poor art teacher’s head. Next time, he did a fancy spin move in the lane and dropped in a floater. Later, when the teachers surrounded him, Terence threw blind passes to wide open teammates, mostly Rice decked out in shorts suited for a flag pole.

With only a few minutes left, the teachers gave up and handed the ball at mid-court to Terence. He smiled and started toward the basket in that same way he had in their last home game, when he’d topped his dynamite performance with a crazy, twisting dunk. Just like before, he swung out to the right and approached the basket from the side. I, like everyone else who was at that last game, knew what he was up to and sat up to watch. But there would be no crazy, twisting dunk this time. No finish at all.

When Terence was a few feet from the basket, in the dead quiet of a gym tight with anticipation, one of the wrestlers jumped up from his seat and yelled, “Your Mama’s white!”

The ball bounced off Terence’s foot and rolled away as he skidded to a stop. “Your Mama’s white!” Another wrestler stood and yelled from the other side of the gym. Snapping in the direction of the other voice, Terence stood there all alone on the empty side of the court. I felt helpless and out of breath.

“Your Mama’s white!” A third
turd in
blue stood up to yell from the far corner. It was Chester. McCoy stood right next to him. They stared at Terence.

It was as silent as our dorm on the first day of school when the wrestlers were waiting on Terence to say something. That same frozen scene seized the gymnasium, with all eyes set on Terence. Not just the dorm, but the whole school this time. He looked around as some teachers gained their senses and climbed the stands for the wrestlers, but Terence didn’t stick around. He stepped toward the nearby exit and started running before he reached the door. I jumped from the bleachers and went after him.

I hauled ass down the path and barged through the Montgomery doors. After racing up the steps, I walked into the room, huffing hard. Terence breathed heavy, too, as he paced back and forth beside the window. When he turned and saw me, his eyes flared up. I put my hands out to the side. He charged and grabbed the front of my jacket.

“What are you doing?” I asked, being slammed into the closet door. “Get
off'a
me!”

I grabbed his wrists and tried to free myself, but he wouldn’t let go. His eyes were round and red at the edges. I could smell the sweat and hot breath coming off him, and my hands slipped off his forearms.

“It was you that done that,” he kept saying. “You.”

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but I knew this wasn’t the time for questions. I drew my hands from his waist and broke his grip around my neck. I pushed him hard in the chest. He punched me in the mouth, and I tasted blood as my shoulder crashed into the closet door, knocking it off the hinges. I whipped off my jacket as he shifted for another punch and was barely able to duck in time. I tackled him to the ground. We landed between the beds and wrestled like maniacs on the tiled floor. As we rolled, back and forth, my elbows and knees smashed into the hard surface. It hurt like hell, but I kept going.

I did my best to get the upper hand, but Terence had so much rage it felt like I was fighting three guys. His arms and legs were everywhere, getting leverage off every surface, using his size and strength to spin me over. Punches landed on the back of my head. The sound of knuckles filled my skull. I flashed to getting beat by those guys back home and dug down for some anger of my own. An elbow over my shoulder caught Terence in the jaw and knocked him off of me. I lunged for his face with my thumbs aimed at his eyes when Mr. Wright came flying into the room.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” he screamed.

For some reason, I listened. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want it at all.

I pushed off of Terence’s face and made sure his head caught some ground. He jumped to his feet, but Mr. Wright stood between us. “I will call the police and have you both arrested if you don’t stop this right now!” Mr. Wright kept us separated with his arms out to the side. He breathed almost as heavy as we did.

“What in the world is going on in here?” he asked.

“I didn’t do anything, Mr. Wright,” I said, panting and pissed off. “I came in here to check on this guy and he starts throwing punches.” Spit flew from my mouth as I spoke, and I could still taste blood.

Mr. Wright turned to Terence. “This has been a very, very challenging afternoon for you, Terence. I realize that. What happened back there was totally unacceptable, and I will personally see to it that those responsible-”

“He’s responsible,” Terence yelled, pointing over Mr. Wright’s shoulder at me.

“Me?” I screamed. “The hell did I do?”

“You told them that crap about my mother!”

“I didn’t tell nobody nothing,” I said.

“Where’d they hear it from then, huh? Where’d they hear it from?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe they heard us clowning around that day in the Can. They could have been sitting right behind us for all I know.”

Terence calmed for a second, then flared up again.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who started with that shit in the first place. Then you and the rest of y’all racist chumps ran with it.”

“Racist?” I asked. “You’re the one who cares about that crap.”

“Oh yeah, right, right,” he said, with his chin raised. “Why don’t you just call me a nigger and get it over with.”

“Ah!” Mr. Wright screamed in reaction to the forbidden word. Panic plastered his face.

“Hey,” I said to Terence. “That must be your word. It ain’t mine.”

“Hell it isn’t,” he said. “You just don’t got the guts to say it ’cause you’re scared of what it’ll
getcha.”
He pointed at my lip.

“Ah,” I waved him away. “I know nuns that hit harder than you.” It was true.

He started to step around Mr. Wright. I crushed a fist, ready to start whaling.

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” Mr. Wright yelled. “I let you both speak. Now this is over. One more punch or push or shove out of either of you and you will be immediately expelled. I promise you I will see to that. I promise you that.”

Terence gave me a bring-it-on look. Mr. Wright steadied himself. I thought about getting on with it, but then I thought better. I was smarter than that now.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m not going back to Catholic school for nothing, especially not a dumb-ass like you.”

I walked out of the room and waited outside the door for Sammie, already deciding that we’d be roommates again. I was back where I’d begun at Hamden Academy.

Chapter 16

N
o one spoke much at all about what had happened. And no one asked about me being down at Sammie’s, since it seemed obvious that Terence needed solitary confinement. He was like a kid on fire, walking around with flames coming off his clothes. I couldn’t believe he stayed at school.

Mr. Wright called me in for a meeting. We sat at his desk in the front hallway. He told me how he was going to keep this fight a secret. You gotta love these private schools: all rules and almost as many exceptions. I didn’t complain, since it was nice to be part of the exception for a change. Though I was surprised Terence saw it that way.

Mr. Wright explained that there had been a long phone conversation with Terence and Mr. and Mrs. King. And while my former friend and roommate was ready to hit the road, like I’d figured, his mother had other plans. He would stay at Hamden Academy until graduation, and then his butt was going to Brown. End of conversation. Sounded like the chats I’d had with my folks.

Speaking of which, Mr. Wright had a conversation with my father, too. So much for the secrecy. I didn’t have to be there for their talk but, afterward, I was told to call home. He handed me the phone and walked to the back of his apartment.

“Hey, Pop.”

“How’s things, Pal?”

“Not so hot.”

“I heard.”

“So, I guess I’m in trouble, huh?”

“I don’t know, are you? Mr. Wright told me what happened, and that he was chalking it up to, ah, what did he call it? Extraordinary circumstances.”

“That I know,” I said. “I meant with you — I guess I’m in trouble with you.”

“I don’t know, Pal. Sounds like a tough situation.”

“Extraordinary?” I asked, with a heavy dose of optimism.

He laughed. “Yeah, maybe, Pal. But I’m not as interested in labeling it as I am in making it right.”

“How am I going to do that?”

“First of all, I’m assuming this guy Terence is a friend of yours, right?”

“Yeah, I guess he’s my friend,” I said. “Or he was.”

“Good. Then you should be able to figure out where he’s coming from.”

“Houston?”

“OK, that’s a start. And where’s he going?”

“Get this, Pop. The guys got a free ride to Brown, an Ivy League school, and somehow he’s bent out of shape about it.”

“You have any idea as to why?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s mental or something.” Pop didn’t laugh, and I was sorry I’d said it like that. I wanted Pop to help me figure this whole deal out just like used to, so he mostly talked and I mostly listened.

“Mr. Wright tells me this Terence is an African-American, the only one in the school, and that he had a lot going for him, and the world is calling him. And his parents must know it, and somewhere inside he must know it, too, or he wouldn’t have done what it takes to get into a school like Brown.”

“So?”

“So, for some reason, he’s struggling with it.”

“Struggling with what?”

“You know, I’ve worked with minority kids for 15 years, and one thing that some of them share is a real resistance to the world outside their own. And if you think about history, and even the way things still are, it’s not so hard to understand why. So maybe this Terence is struggling with all that, with who he is and where he fits in.”

“I don’t know, Pop,” I said.

“I think you do, Pal,” he answered right back. “I think that you do.”

He was right. I knew what it was like to be an outsider, or, at least to feel like one. I thought about Terence. It’d been a long time since I’d thought about what it would be like to be anybody other than me. No wonder I had such a hard time figuring things out.

“So, you see where he’s coming from?” Pop asked.

“I’m working on it,” I said.

“Good. It shouldn’t be such a stretch for you, Pal. And remember, you were brought up to look out for other people. If you’re in a position to help someone, you’re supposed to do it.”

“OK, Pop,” I said. “I got it.”

I hung up the phone and thought of the dominoes again, and how I could help Terence from falling the wrong way.