The Gift-Giver (11 page)

His big eyes looked so miserable. "What's wrong?"

"I'm leaving."

"What? Where you going?"

"My family, I mean, the people I live with, they moving to California, I think."

"Oh no, that's awful. I mean, it's nice you moving to California, but how we gonna see you again?"

"I'm not going with them."

"Oh, that's good. You could go to California when you grow up."

"But I still won't be here. I'm going upstate. They gonna put me in a group home with other kids."

"With your family?"

"No."

"With another family?"

"No. It's just a home with other kids. They have counselors. I don't want to live with another family. I just want to stay here on 163rd Street. The only family I want is my real brothers and sisters."

I could hardly talk. A big, hard lump started growing in my throat. Amir was my best friend. I was losing my best friend. I felt like crying. I don't mean the kind of crying you see in the movies where the lady cries nice, and pretty tears roll down her pretty face. I felt like crying ugly. I felt like yelling and bawling like baby Gerald does when he's hungry or wet. I felt like rolling from one end of the block to the other. I felt like laying on my back and kicking my legs in the sun's face.

Who was I gonna talk to now? Who could I trust like I trusted Amir? I couldn't remember, anymore, a time when he wasn't here. It was like Amir always lived on 163rd Street. Now he was leaving.

"Doris, don't worry. We still be friends no matter what. You remember what I told you about making things be."

I sniffled and tried to keep my voice sounding normal.

"Amir, maybe you could live with us. My mother and father could be your foster parents. I'll be your foster sister and Baby could be your foster...."

"No, Doris. I don't think your parents could do that."

"Why? I'm going to ask my mother right now. We could make room for you."

"They already made all my plans, Doris."

"So? If my mother and father say they want you to live with us, then the plans will change—right, Amir?"

He put his head down. "Doris, I'm leaving tomorrow. Nothing can change now."

"How come you didn't tell me before?"

"They just told me a few days ago. My foster family's going to drive me upstate tomorrow."

I picked up a empty bottle and threw it. Glass was all over the sidewalk. An old lady looked at me and shook her head. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"What you do that for?" Amir asked.

"'Cause I wanted to."

"Doris, we still gonna be friends."

"How we gonna be friends when you all the way upstate?"

"I'll write you. I promise. It's not so bad. My brothers and sisters live upstate too. The social worker told me I could see them."

"I hope you be with them again, Amir. You'll really write to me?"

"I promise, Doris."

We got up and walked back to 163rd Street. "Russell and them know you leaving?" I asked.

"No, I didn't tell them."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You the only one I told. I didn't want to talk to them about it."

When we got back to the block, Mickey and all the girls was there. Amir went to his building. I didn't feel like talking to nobody, so I started walking in the house.

"Where you going?" Mickey asked.

"Upstairs."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Look to me like you and your boyfriend had a fight."

The next day I stayed in the house all morning. I didn't want to be outside when Amir left. I went out later in the afternoon. I got tired of my mother asking me what was wrong.

We was all sitting on the stoop. Everybody was talking about going back to school the day after next. I didn't care about school or nothing now. I was just thinking about Amir.

Yellow Bird says to me, "Doris, where's Amir?"

"I don't know. How should I know?"

"Come on, Bird, let's go over to his house and look for him," Russell said. "What's wrong with that dude? We ain't seen him since he left the playground yesterday."

When they left, Mickey said, "How come you don't know where your boyfriend is?" She gave me a sly look.

"Mickey, will you leave me alone?"

"How come you acting so strange, Doris?"

After a while the boys came back.

"We rang his bell and no one answered."

"Ain't nobody there," I said.

"Why you didn't tell us that before?"

"Amir moved," I said.

"What? And he ain't said nothing to us?"

"He couldn't. He was too upset. He asked me to tell you.

Amir didn't say to me out loud that he wanted me to tell them good-bye for him, but I could tell that's what he wanted. I told them the whole story.

When I finished, who of all people, but big, loud-mouth, rough-tough Lavinia starts crying. Russell and the rest of them couldn't say anything. We all sat there looking miserable.

Mrs. Grant walked out on the stoop. "Why you kids look so down in the mouth? I know, y'all don't want to go back to school. All you kids think about is playing." She waddled her fat self down the street.

Russell said, "Sometimes I hate grown-ups. They think they know everything."

T.T. says, "I can't believe that little, funny-looking dude is gone."

"Doris, you think he'll really write us?" Yellow Bird asked.

I'm sure.

"How you could be so sure?" Russell asked.

"I studied Amir very closely. I understand him. He'll write."

Dotty turned to me. "Well, listen at you. You sound just like Amir."

All we talked about was Amir. We couldn't think of anything else. I couldn't figure out how somebody who
didn't play basketball, lodies, hookey, talk about other people, lie, cheat or do anything we did, leave such a big emptiness when he wasn't around. How could somebody, who only smiled and looked like he was always seeing the inside of things, make a bunch like us feel so strange when he wasn't there?

Even people you saw all summer looked different the first day of school. Everybody felt new. Some of the teachers looked good too. I couldn't believe I made it to the sixth grade. I decided things was gonna be different this year. I was going to make the honor roll for the first time in my life.

I got to school early. It was funny. I forgot to wait for Mickey and Dotty. I stood around in the schoolyard. I wore my new plaid skirt, so I didn't want to sit on the steps. And instead of them two dumb braids I always wore, I had my whole head braided with colored ribbons running through the braids. It took Dotty almost two hours to braid it the night before. I thought Mama was going to fuss, but all she said was, "Halloween's early this year."

T.T. was the first one to show up. And he looked the way he always did. Frowsy. He came over to me. "Hey, girl. You look mighty pretty today. I like your hair. How do you feel?"

"Better than you," I said. He turned to the gate.

"Well, look who don't look like Dumbo no more."

I looked to see who he was talking about. Big Russell walked through the gate. He didn't have on them big overalls he always wore. He had on a pair of gray pants with a sharp crease, a white shirt and a belt around his waist.

Yellow Bird was right behind him. His hair still looked like a rooster's crown. He had on new wool pants, a wool sweater, wool socks and new shoes, even though it was still kind of hot. His mama must've bought him new winter clothes and he couldn't wait to wear them. He had a big notebook and a case full of pencils. I didn't know Yellow Bird knew what a notebook was.

Finally, Mickey and Dotty came. They was dressed exactly alike. They wore red wrap-around skirts, beige blouses, gold hoop earrings and their hair was pulled up in nice little puffs on the tops of their heads.

T.T. said, "Them twins almost look cute today."

I didn't sit in the back with Mickey and Dotty. The teacher let me sit in the front row. Mickey and Dotty never asked to leave the room. Yellow Bird opened his notebook and took out a pencil before the teacher put anything on the board. Russell sat away from his friends too.

Wouldn't Amir be surprised to see this, I thought. I kept looking at the door. I wished that a miracle would happen and Amir would walk in the room. Of course, he didn't.

It's funny how things happen. I been doing real good in school. Made the honor roll. Everyone was shocked—including me. Haven't been under punishment since school started.

Me and Mickey and Dotty ain't as close as we used to be. At first it bothered me. Then instead of getting mad at them, I thought about it a lot. I figure we just don't like the same things anymore.

Dotty still plays with those little fifth-graders and Mickey hangs out with some junior high school girls. She thinks she's grown.

Russell ain't as fat and mean as he used to be. And Yellow Bird got the highest mark on the social studies test!

I still have to go straight home from school and can't play outside late, but that don't bother me anymore either. Like Amir says, you don't have to be doing the same thing everybody else is doing.

But the best thing of all that happened is I just got a letter from Amir.

October 15th

Dear Doris,

How are you? Fine I hope. I'm okay. They keep me busy in this place. I had to take a lot of tests and talk to a lot of different people, like social workers and doctors and a psychiatrist. They keep asking me the same old questions. I always remember the fun we had on 163rd Street. There's a lot of trees and quiet and cleanness here, but I miss the block. The Bronx ain't so bad, Doris.

How is Russell, Bird, the twins and everybody? I'll write them soon. One good thing happened. One of my brothers live near here. Maybe I'll see him sometime.

Do you still let things bother you like you used to? I hope you don't. I think about you all the time, Doris. Please think about me, that way, we're not really separated. Together we'll make things be. When you want something bad you have to keep your mind on it. We not really separated. And we not going to lose track of each other if we don't want to.

Someday we'll live on the same block again.

Forever,
Amir

Joyce Hansen is the award-winning and critically acclaimed author of fifteen books for young readers. Four of her books have received a Coretta Scott King Honor Book Award, and six of her books have been named a Notable Children's Trade Book in the Field of Social Studies. She has also received a Carter G. Woodson Honor Book Award, an African Studies Association Award, and a National Parenting Publication Gold Award.

Joyce Hansen grew up in the Bronx, the setting for
The Gift-Giver,
and was a teacher in New York City for many years. She now lives in South Carolina with her husband and writes full-time.