Wildflower Read online

  There was nobody around but the three of them at the corner of the English building. Just Jaris, Marko, and Jasmine. Jaris turned sharply and grabbed Marko’s shirtfront, ramming him against the stucco wall. He held the shirtfront so tight that Marko gasped for air. “Don’t you talk about my sister with your dirty mouth, Lane,” he growled,. “Don’t you trash her, you hear me?”

  “Back off!” Jasmine warned. “You’re strangling him.”

  “I’m warning you, man,” Jaris snarled. “Chelsea is off limits for your trash talk, understand?” Jaris let Marko go then, just as Mr. Pippin appeared, carrying his battered briefcase. Mr. Pippin took a quick look at Marko Lane, gasping for air. He glanced at Jaris, seeing the hatred in the boy’s face. Mr. Pippin knew something bad had just happened. Marko’s eyes were wild. His shirt was askew. Mr. Pippin knew that some sort of altercation had just taken place, but Mr. Pippin made no inquiry. He didn’t know what happened, and he didn’t want to know. If he knew, he would have to get involved. So Mr. Pippin ignored what he saw and hurried into his classroom, grateful to have escaped whatever happened.

  Jaris went into the classroom, leaving Marko leaning against the wall and Jasmine quietly scolding him, probably for calling any other girl “hot.”

  Jaris struggled to concentrate on English. He was worried about the loan his father wanted to take out. He was worried that at the last minute Mom would refuse to cosign. He was worried about Chelsea too. She was getting rebellious, and now with the new restrictions, would she rebel totally? Where would that behavior lead? Would there be more arguments between Mom and Pop?

  Jaris feared Chelsea would run away, as some kids do. Jaris’s friend, Trevor Jenkins, had had a girlfriend—Vanessa Allen. She had run away from her family when she was fifteen. Her life went all downhill from there. She hadn’t found her way back, and maybe never would.

  Jaris hoped his parents, especially Pop, had the wisdom not to crack down so hard on Chelsea that she would give up hope. Jaris hoped they wouldn’t stifle her. Pop had called her a wildflower, and wildflowers are very fragile. If you held one tightly in your hand, it wilted and shriveled up.You had to give even a wildflower a little room to breathe.

  Two days later, as Jaris was driving Chelsea home from Anderson, she asked her brother for advice. “Jaris, Heston Crawford and I are working on a science project at school. His family is kinda poor and they don’t have a computer. He’d like to come over and work with me on my computer. You think that’d be okay?”

  Jaris hesitated. Pop already had a run-in with Heston when he sat on the curb with Chelsea. Pop accused Heston of drooling over Chelsea in her skimpy outfit.

  “I don’t know, chili pepper,” Jaris replied. “Pop’s home, so you could ask him.”

  “Oh Jaris, he’s gonna say no!” Chelsea protested. “I need to study with Heston. Heston is kind of a geek, but he’s such a genius in science. We got this really complicated project and I want an A. . . . Uh, Jaris, would you ask Pop for me?”

  “Uh . . . yeah, sure,” Jaris agreed. He didn’t want to tangle with Pop either, especially with the Jackson deal hanging. Every night he heard his parents going back and forth about it. Mom kept stressing her misgivings. Pop kept repeating that this was his last chance to score. Jaris thought the outcome could go either way, and Pop was generally in a bad mood. What happened with Chelsea in the Mercedes made him even darker.

  Chelsea hurried to her room, leaving Jaris to confront his father in the kitchen.

  “Mmm, smells good, Pop,” Jaris commented.

  “What does?” Pop asked in an annoyed voice. “I ain’t even started yet.”

  Jaris felt like a fool. He’d blown it already.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should make chicken manicotti or scallops in cream sauce,” Pop thought out loud. Then he spoke to Jaris. “Your mom likes scallops. I’m trying to butter her up, you know. I’m trying to do everything right to get on her good side, so she comes with me and signs the second mortgage. I guess I better go with the scallops.”

  “Uh Pop,” Jaris began, “you know Chelsea has this tough science class and she’s hoping to make an A. The kids, they got partners in their projects, and she’s partners with this kid who’s really smart in science. Problem is, this other kid’s family is poor and they don’t have a computer. So would it be okay if they worked on Chelsea’s computer in her room?”

  “Sure,” Pop consented, melting margarine in the skillet to cook onions and then adding the scallops. “The other girl can come over anytime, Jaris. I got no objection to that.”

  “Well,” Jaris went on. “It’s a guy. It’s Heston Crawford. Uh . . . he’s good in science, and they need to do research, him and Chelsea. So, you know, she can maybe earn an A. He was wondering if he could come over this afternoon and work with Chelsea.”

  “I know that kid,” Pop remarked. “He was with Chelsea the other day, plunked himself down on the curb. And she was there in those itty-bitty clothes.”

  “Pop,” Jaris said, “Chelsea asked me to ask you . . . you know, for permission.” Just looking at Pop standing there with the smoking skillet was scary.

  Pop stirred in the scallops. Then he mixed wine and cornstarch, and he stirred that into the scallops. Next he added the whipping cream. “Your mom will go crazy for this,” he said. “Put her in a real good mood.” He stopped then and spoke to Jaris. “He can come over. The Crawford kid can come over. I kinda like him. He’s got respect.”

  Jaris hurried to Chelsea’s room. “It’s okay, chili pepper. Pop said Heston can come over.”

  “Thanks, Jaris!” Chelsea said, calling Heston quickly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In about ten minutes, Heston Crawford biked up. He saw Mr. Spain and he said, “Afternoon sir. Me and Chelsea are doing this project on the solar system. Our teacher, she’s real particular, so we gotta get the newest stuff off the Internet. They’re coming up with new discoveries every day, you know.”

  “I bet they are,” Pop replied. “Good luck. We want to get that old solar system straight. Everything on earth is going to Hades in a handbasket. But we gotta figure out what those black holes are all about.”

  “Yes sir,” Heston responded, as if he hadn’t heard the sarcasm in Pop’s voice.

  Mom came home in a bad mood. Jaris thought that not even the scallops and cream sauce could help. “Greg and I have decided which teachers will go if the budget mess isn’t resolved,” she explained. “Oh, we were so torn. It’ll be that enthusiastic second-grade teacher and the young man who’s so good teaching math.”

  “Maybe the idiots in the capitol will come up with a budget,” Pop suggested.

  “I don’t know where all this is going, Lorenzo,” Mom sighed. “You’d think the last thing to be cut would be education. Our nation is already behind other countries in math and science, and now we’re cutting budgets even more. I mean, how soon will it be before even teachers with experience will be sent packing? Teachers like me!”

  “Oh, they’d never can you, Monie. You’re the top of the line,” Pop assured her.

  “Don’t be too sure,” Mom replied in a grumpy voice.

  Jaris was afraid Mom was making the situation sound even more dire than it was. He thought maybe she was making a lastditch effort to convince Pop that even her job might be in jeopardy. Then wouldn’t it be utter folly to put a new mortgage on the house and take a risky leap in starting a business? As long as Mom’s job was secure, the family would at least have her paycheck to fall back on. Now she was reminding Pop that maybe even that safety net had holes in it.

  Mom heard Heston talking in Chelsea’s room. “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “Little guy named Heston Crawford,” Pop answered. “He and Chelsea working on a science project. He’s okay. I gave him a hard time the other day when he was sitting on the curb with Chelsea, but he was polite. I can see he’s a good kid. The family is up against it, so they don’t have a computer. They’re using Chelsea’s.”


  “A lot of families are hard up,” Mom replied, seizing every opportunity to make her point. “Times aren’t good.”

  “Yeah, but even in bad times, there’s opportunity, babe,” Pop objected. “Sometimes the best opportunities come in bad times.”

  Jaris could see his parents dancing around the issue, like fencers jabbing with their swords. Neither of them wanted to come right out and argue.

  On his way out, Heston stopped in the kitchen. “We got a lot done,” he reported. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

  “Sure Heston,” Pop responded, “anytime.”

  “Your daughter is very smart,” Heston added. “It’s nice working with her.”

  Mom smiled and said, “That’s nice of you to say.”

  When Heston was gone, Mom commented, “He is sweet.”

  “Yeah,” Pop agreed. “He knows how to butter the bread. With all the sassy-mouthed punks around, it’s refreshing to meet a kid like him.”

  The family sat down to dinner.

  “These scallops are wonderful,” Mom remarked. Then she started talking about all the bad economic news on the television. Pop just sat there with a faraway look in his eyes. He was eighteen years old again, on the brink of an athletic scholarship. He was going to college. He would major in science and be somebody. The future was bright with promise. Then came the sports injury and the end of his dream. Now he’d caught hold of a new dream. It filled his mind. He thought about it before he went to bed at night and first thing when he got up in the morning.

  Pop never went back to his high school reunions. He didn’t want to face his old friends and admit to them that the dream died and that he was only a mechanic. But he thought perhaps in a year or two he would go to a high school reunion. And he’d tell everybody about his new business, his flourishing auto care business. He would bring pictures of the shop. It would be freshly painted with his name in bold letters.

  The Spain’s appointment with the loan officer at the bank was on Friday. On Thursday night, Jaris heard his parents discussing the matter. Mom was still torn by fears. Pop was still determined. They weren’t arguing anymore. They were just talking. But there was terror in Mom’s voice, and there was desperation in Pop’s voice. His dream hung by a thread, and his wife’s trembling hands held scissors.

  Jaris went to school on Friday morning, still very unsure about how things would turn out. When he and his friends gathered for lunch under the eucalyptus trees, everybody was there. They all knew Jaris wanted his father to get the loan and the garage. They all knew how much it meant to Jaris that his father would finally have something to be proud of.

  “I think the news’ll be good,” Sereeta declared. “I just have a feeling.” Sereeta was still glowing from her trip to San Francisco with her mother. She thought if a miracle like that could happen, then surely Lorenzo Spain’s dream could come true too.

  “Sometimes,” Sereeta continued, “the sky is so dark that you think you’ll never see the sun again. Then it breaks through, and the sun is brighter than you have ever seen it before.”

  “Yeah,” Alonee agreed. “We’ve all had times like that when things were kinda dark, but then it’s good again.”

  Trevor looked sad for a moment. He was thinking about his relationship with Vanessa Allen and how it was over. And a shy girl in his science class had mustered up the courage to talk to him. Trevor thought he might ask her out. Maybe someday soon she would join him and his friends for lunch under the eucalyptus trees.

  “Yeah,” Oliver Randall added. “You know, when I first came to Tubman, I didn’t have any friends. You guys reached out to me, and now I feel like I’ve been going here since ninth grade. Alonee called it ‘the posse,’ and it’s a great bunch. It’s not the in-group and it’s not the out-group. . . . It’s just friends.”

  Kevin Walker nodded. “Same with me. I blew in from Texas scared out of my wits. I was a loner. But when I was in the pits, you guys were there, pulling me through.”

  Jaris lay back on the grass and watched the cirrus clouds sail by. A seagull from nowhere glided overhead. He laughed a little. “Hey Derrick,” he chuckled, “do you remember that time the seagull pooped on Marko’s head?”

  Derrick laughed too. “That was a smart seagull, bro,” he said.

  “I wonder if seagulls ever worry about anything?” Jaris asked. “They fly around with such a peaceful look.”

  Everybody laughed.

  “They’re probably kinda dumb,” Derrick responded, “and they don’t think about much—like me.”

  Destini poked Derrick and told him, “You’re not dumb, babe, so quit saying that.”

  “How can we know for sure if seagulls think or not?” Oliver wondered. “I mean, who’s ever asked a seagull whether they worry if there’ll be enough fish for them to eat or if a storm’s coming up.”

  “When I was little,” Carissa, Kevin’s girlfriend, said, “I read a story about all the animals and birds being able to talk on one day—on Christmas. And everybody gathered to hear what they had to say. That would be nice, I think.”

  Sereeta watched the seagull slowly disappear in the blue sky. “Birds are the only animals I have ever envied,” she said. “I mean, I never thought it must be great to be an antelope or a cheetah. But birds—wow!—that must be wonderful, to just fly wherever you want to go. Not sitting in a seat on a plane, but really to fly.”

  Sami Archer giggled. “I feel sorry for the little furry things that are stuck on the ground. The rabbits and the chipmunks. They gotta really scratch to make a livin’. Y’hear what I’m sayin’? Especially the ones who live in the city, where their homes are all vanishin’ ’cause we’re buildin’ everywhere. Like when we don’t get no rain, I worry about the rabbits findin’ enough greens to eat.”

  “They’re all in my mother’s garden,” Jaris declared. “Every year Mom plans to feed us all our veggies from her garden. She plants tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, everything. And at night the bunnies come out and eat everything in sight. Those rabbits got our address, I’m telling you. Mom gets so upset, but Pop just laughs. He’ll go ‘Peter Rabbit come to call again.’ ”

  Jaris looked at his watch. He often got pains in his stomach when he was nervous. Right now he felt big-time pains. The appointment at the bank was at one thirty. That was in an hour and a half. Mom was supposed to take time off from her work to meet Pop at the bank. A substitute teacher would fill in with Mom’s lesson plans. That was the plan anyway. Jaris didn’t know if it would happen like that or not.

  Jaris couldn’t imagine what it would be like tonight at the house if the deal fell through, if Pop’s dream was officially over. It was almost too sad to imagine. Yet Jaris couldn’t be angry with his mother if she ended up refusing to sign. She couldn’t help being afraid for the family’s security.

  The plan was for Pop to pick up the cashier’s check for the amount of the loan and take it directly to Mr. Jackson. By this afternoon, the garage would belong to Pop. Unless Mom didn’t sign. Then, Jackson said, he had two other buyers who were willing and eager to buy the place.

  Jaris struggled through his afternoon classes. He kept dragging his mind back to the subjects at hand. He kept trying to convince himself that the Kennedy administration, which they were studying in Ms. McDowell’s class, was more important than his family’s fate. Most of the time he failed.

  Jaris had a cell phone, but he didn’t want to call to find out what happened. He didn’t want his parents to call him either. Whatever happened, he didn’t want to hear about it over the phone.

  After classes at Tubman, Jaris and Sereeta got into Jaris’s Honda and headed for Anderson Middle School to pick up Chelsea. Jaris had told Sereeta more than he told his other friends. He shared with her how much this garage deal meant to his father.

  “It’s gonna break him if it doesn’t go down.” Jaris was fretting as they left Tubman.

  “I think it’ll be okay, Jaris,” Sereeta assured him. She reached over and squee
zed Jaris’s hand.

  They picked up Chelsea and then drove toward Jackson’s garage. If the news was good, Jaris wanted Sereeta and Chelsea to be there with him. If the news was bad, he needed them even more.

  “I’m so scared,” Chelsea admitted. “Poor Pop . . . I mean . . .” She never finished the sentence.

  The drive to Jackson’s garage was only a couple of miles. Jaris gripped the steering wheel tightly to keep his hands from shaking. Sereeta ran her soft hand against his cheek. They were almost there.

  They turned the corner. As they drove up, there were cars at Jackson’s garage, as usual. As usual, Pop was wearing his blue uniform, his “monkey suit” as he called it. And, as usual, he was leaning over an engine.

  Then they saw the other two men. They were from a sign company. They were mounting ladders toward the front of the garage. They had already painted out the name Jackson.

  “Look!” Sereeta said in a hushed voice. “They’re painting an ‘S’ on the sign . . . ”

  Chelsea let out a scream. “And a ‘P’!” she cried.

  Pop saw them then. He came walking over. “Hey kids, hey Sereeta. I’m all filthy with grease and stuff, so don’t—” he said.

  But they came at him anyway, all three of them, hugging him in spite of the grease and the grime. The brown gunk was all over them, and they didn’t care. They were screaming, laughing, and jumping up and down.

  Mom came around the corner. She had started the day wearing a pretty pink blouse. It too was covered with grease because she had hugged him first. Mom grinned and plucked at a grease stain. “Don’t worry,” she said, “it’ll all come out in the wash.”

  The four of them stood there, laughing and crying and hugging one another. They knew that, whatever happened—whatever they kept and whatever they lost—they would always have their love for one another. Nothing could ever take that away from them.