No Way Out, Page 2

  Grandma sighed and slumped back in her chair as if their talk drained her. “Lord, I’m just so tired,” she said, touching the bruise on her head.

  “Maybe you should lay down,” said Harold. “Don’t you gotta do that blood test, too?” Along with her new diet, Grandma needed to test her blood sugar level every few hours. The doctor at the hospital reviewed this with them before sending Grandma home.

  “Is it time already?” she asked as Harold helped her to the couch and handed her the small blue kit that said Glucometer across the side.

  “All these instructions and lists and medications,” she added. “My goodness. ”

  Harold returned to the kitchen. He didn’t like watching his grandmother poke her finger for the blood test. As he passed the table, he noticed the stack of papers Grandma had been working on. He paused, curious about what she read that got her so upset. He knew he shouldn’t look at her mail.

  But she looked so worried, he thought.

  He quickly scanned the top sheet. It was a bill from the emergency room. The words at the bottom of the page jumped out at him.

  Total Amount Due: $837.83

  Harold flushed and glanced back at Grandma. She jabbed the tip of her finger with a short needle. A dark pearl of blood dripped onto the white tab she was holding.

  Harold turned so his back blocked her view of what he was doing. Then he flipped to the next letter. It was another bill, this time for the hospital room. His eyes raced to the bottom line.

  Total Amount Due: $2,454.17

  Harold’s pulse began to throb. He turned quickly to the next item, a tan envelope with an official-looking seal that read, “Department of Family Services. ” In the center, in bold black ink, were the words: “Regarding Harold Davis. ” He picked up the envelope.

  “Harold,” Grandma called from behind him, shattering his thoughts. He dropped the papers and quickly stepped away from the table.

  “I need you to go to the store,” she continued. “And bring me all that paperwork on the table. I don’t want you snooping around. That’s my business, y’hear?”

  “Yes, Grandma,” he said, gathering the stack and bringing it to her. He was relieved to see she was distracted with her test kit. She didn’t seem to notice that he’d read anything.

  Still, Harold wondered about that envelope. What was inside it?

  Just then, there was a knock at the door. Harold looked through the eyehole to see Cindy Gibson, his neighbor and classmate. A familiar nervous twinge raced to the pit of his stomach.

  “Hey, Harold,” she said softly as he opened the door. She was wearing a tight-fitting tank top and baggy sweatpants, and her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was carrying a small bundle of flowers.

  “Hi Cindy,” Harold answered, glancing at her amber eyes and cinnamon skin. He suddenly felt awkward in his Tshirt, wet from washing dishes.

  Since eighth grade, he’d liked Cindy, though he never told her how he felt, not exactly. There was no point, he figured. He learned that months ago when he asked her to the movies. At the time, she was seeing Bobby Wallace, a Bluford senior who messed with drugs and hit his girlfriends, including Cindy. Harold hated him.

  “You’re really nice . . . but me and Bobby are together,” she’d said. “Can’t you just be my friend and be happy for me?”

  Her words were devastating. It had taken him weeks to build up the courage to ask her out. And yet he wasn’t surprised at her reaction. Girls usually ignored him. Those who didn’t often joined other Bluford students in teasing him about his weight.

  “Someone get that boy a bra. ”

  “He so fat he has his own zip code. ”

  “Dude needs a driveway to iron his shirt. ”

  He’d heard the jokes since middle school. Cindy would never go out with someone like him. Harold was sure of it. He accepted that they’d just be friends, but he still couldn’t stop his palms from sweating whenever she was around, even now.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Mr. Harris told me about your grandmother,” Cindy said. “Is she okay?” Harold could hear the worry in Cindy’s voice.

  “Yeah, she’s gettin’ better,” he said, trying to sound confident. He knew Cindy loved his grandmother. They had grown close a few months ago when Cindy was having trouble at home with her mom. Grandma knew Cindy needed someone to talk to, so she started inviting her over.

  For a while, it seemed to Harold that Grandma had two grandkids—him and Cindy. He didn’t mind. It was nice to watch TV with Cindy or see her smile when she tasted Grandma’s sweet potato pie. But lately she’d been visiting less. Harold figured she and her mother were getting along again.

  “Harold?” Grandma’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “Is that my Cindy at the door?”

  Cindy smiled. To Harold, the entire hallway suddenly seemed brighter.

  “I think someone wants to see you,” he said, grinning back at her.

  Cindy walked in and froze for a half second at the sight of Grandma. Harold thought he heard a slight gasp as Cindy glanced at the large bruise the color of eggplant on Grandma’s forehead.

  “Grandma Rose!” she said, leaning down to give Grandma a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home. ”

  Grandma winced as Cindy embraced her. “Ooh, honey, be gentle now. I’m sore all over. ”

  “Sorry!” Cindy cried, letting Grandma go. “I was just so scared. ”

  Harold noticed tears in Cindy’s eyes.

  He’d already grown used to the sight of Grandma’s injuries, but Cindy was seeing them for the first time. For some reason, her reaction made him want to cry too, and he had to look away.

  “Sit down, child,” Grandma said to her. “Don’t you worry. I’m gonna be just fine, just fine. Last thing I want is you gettin’ all upset over me. Bad enough havin’ Harold fussin’ over me all the time. ”

  “Okay,” Cindy said, nodding and wiping her eyes. “I brought these for you. They’re from me and my mom. ” She handed the bunched flowers to Grandma.

  “Why thank you, honeychild! It’s been a long time since someone got me flowers,” Grandma replied with a tired laugh.

  “I also have your algebra homework from Friday, Harold,” Cindy added, turning to him.

  “Thanks,” Harold replied, wishing she could take it back.

  “You’re a good girl, child,” Grandma said, patting Cindy’s face lovingly. “I told that boy he should’ve gone to school, but he insisted on staying with me at the hospital. I’m just so grateful to Mr. Harris for looking after Harold. I swear this neighborhood could use more men like him. He was in the Marines, you know. Just like my husband, rest his soul. ” Grandma glanced at the photograph on the wall again. “Of course, my husband fought in the Korean War, you know. ”

  “Grandma,” Harold groaned. “You’ve told her this story a million times already. ”

  “Okay, okay,” Grandma replied, waving her hand good-naturedly. “Cindy, maybe you could go to SuperFoods with Harold,” she suggested. “I need him to pick up groceries. ”

  “Grandma,” Harold protested. “Maybe she has other things to do today. ”

  “No, I can go,” Cindy offered, her voice sincere.

  “Now remember what we talked about, Harold,” said Grandma as she handed him a grocery list and a small roll of cash. “Stick to this list. Nothing extra— no chips, no cookies, no soda. We need to mind our budget. And don’t you talk to those James brothers neither. Those boys been hanging around the supermarket again, and I just know they’re up to no good. Straight home, y’hear?”

  “Yes, Grandma,” Harold grumbled.

  * * *

  Harold and Cindy walked down the sidewalk, between the dull concrete apartment buildings that lined their street. It was a hot spring day—sunny and sticky, with a breeze that barely stirred the sweaty air. Still, Harold was glad to get away from the cluttered apartment and the pressure of caring for his grandmother.

  He was also glad to b
e with Cindy.

  “Thanks for coming over,” Harold said. “It meant a lot to Grandma. ” He wanted to tell her it meant a lot to him too, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  “I just can’t believe what happened,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “I mean that bruise. ”

  “You should see her leg,” he replied, shuddering at the thought of changing her bandage later. “And her ankle, and the sores on her feet. ”

  “Harold,” Cindy said, glancing up at the empty third floor apartment window where Grandma usually sat watching over their neighborhood like a mother hawk. “Are you gonna be okay with everything?”

  He could feel her staring at him, but he kept his eyes on the sidewalk.

  “I have to be,” he said, unable to lie.

  “I mean, what choice do I have?”

  A bus rumbled loudly up the block then. Harold was grateful for the interruption. Without a word, they crossed the street to SuperFoods.

  “Oh, great,” Cindy fumed with a disgusted look on her face. “Look who’s back. ”

  Harold looked up to see Londell James standing outside of SuperFoods, smoking a cigarette and talking with a group of younger boys. Londell was tall and muscular, with a sharp, angular face and thin lips. He towered over the other boys who gathered around him like students in a class.

  “I thought he was in jail,” Harold said, suddenly feeling nervous. Everyone at Bluford knew Londell. He was involved in a shooting last year. Roylin Bailey, a junior at Bluford, had been grazed by the bullet. Harold wasn’t there, but his grandma told him how the shots were fired in broad daylight near a park not far from the high school.

  “I hate to say this about anyone’s child, but it’ll be a good day for this neighborhood when Londell James is put in jail,” Grandma said at the time .

  “He was in jail,” Cindy replied. “But Roylin’s sister told me they let him out ’cause no one could prove he did anything except drive his car that day. No witnesses came forward. People were too scared. ”

  “That’s messed up,” Harold replied, wondering if he should turn around and go home. He’d gone to middle school with Londell’s younger brother, Jupiter, who was also standing outside. When they were in school, Jupiter’s mom spent time in jail for selling drugs out of her home. Jupiter’s father had been stabbed to death in a fight at a bar when they were in seventh grade.

  “Those poor boys never got to be children, ” Grandma told him when she heard the news. He never forgot the sad look on her face. Harold hadn’t seen Jupiter since seventh grade. Last he heard, Jupiter was in a foster home on the other side of town.

  “Maybe we should come back when they’re not here,” Cindy whispered.

  Harold felt the same way, but he knew he needed to shop for Grandma. “I can’t. We need groceries now,” he said.

  Cindy grabbed Harold’s arm as they approached the supermarket. He could tell she was scared by the way she held onto him; Harold was scared, too, but he did his best to look calm and confident. The boys stopped talking as they approached. Harold noticed Jupiter watching them.

  “Yo, check out this fat boy,” said a tall, thin boy Harold didn’t recognize. He was wearing a basketball jersey. A younger boy stood next to him, carrying a bright yellow backpack. He didn’t look more than ten years old.

  “I know you,” said Jupiter with a smirk.

  “’Sup, Jupiter,” said Harold, trying his best to sound casual.

  “Yeah. I remember you from middle school. You was fat back then, too. ”

  The boys laughed and nudged each other approvingly.

  “Yeah, he fat! Like a sausage or somethin’,” shouted the tall boy.

  “Yo, where’s your grandma? She used to take you everywhere back in the day. I bet she still changes your diapers,” Jupiter barked.

  Harold’s face burned with embarrassment. He wanted to say something to shut them up, but he knew that could make things worse.

  “Just ignore them, Harold,” whispered Cindy. “We don’t want any trouble. ”

  “Ain’t that sweet. His girlfriend protectin’ him,” Jupiter continued.

  Great, Harold thought. Now she’s really gonna think I’m a loser.

  Londell watched Harold through a gray cloud of cigarette smoke. “Joop, step off him!” he snapped angrily. “What I tell y’all about actin’ like kids?”

  His voice had an immediate effect. Jupiter and the rest of the boys shrank back, their eyes lowered as if they were scared.

  Londell nodded at Harold, as if to say that it was safe for him to pass. Harold nodded back and quickly made his way into the supermarket, relieved that Londell had intervened.

  Thirty minutes later, Harold and Cindy unloaded their groceries at the checkout counter.

  “I’m so glad we found these bandages!” Harold exclaimed, examining the box of gauze as if it was a treasure. “These don’t stick so much, and Grandma can leave ’em on for the whole day. The doctor said her leg will heal much faster with these. ”

  For the first time since Grandma’s fall, Harold felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe with the bandages it wouldn’t be too long before she was back on her feet, and everything would be back to normal.

  “Thanks for coming with me, Cindy,” said Harold. “It’s really nice to have you around. ”

  Cindy smiled and looked at the floor.

  Harold thought about how she’d grabbed him before, like he could actually protect her. He felt proud with Cindy on his arm, and he liked that she hadn’t let go, even when Jupiter had called her his girlfriend. Harold moved closer to her, their hands almost touching.

  “Your total is $83.13,” said the cashier.

  Harold took out the wad of cash and began counting. He had seventy dollars.

  He looked up at the cashier, then at Cindy, and the line of customers behind them. A wave of shame rushed over his face.

  “Uh, I don’t have—”

  “Is there a problem?” the cashier asked impatiently.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Cindy.

  “Nothing! ” Harold snapped. “I mean . . . ”

  He tried to think of some excuse he could tell the cashier. He searched his pockets, although he knew they were empty. “It’s just, I’m a little short. Thirteen dollars short. ”

  The cashier sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well then, you’ll have to put something back. ”

  Harold looked at the groceries. There was nothing extra, only what Grandma had put on the list.

  “But we need everything,” he said desperately. “What about the apples? Can I leave those?”

  “They only cost two dollars,” said the cashier. “What about these?” She picked up the box of bandages. “They cost $16.50. ”

  “No! ” Harold yelled, yanking them from her hand. “I need those!”

  “C’mon, kid. We ain’t got all day,”

  barked the man behind them in line.

  The cashier picked up a phone and pressed a red button. “I need a manager at checkout please!” Her voice boomed through the entire store.

  “Wait!” begged Harold. “I-I just need to think for a minute. ”

  “Harold, maybe we should leave the bandages. We can always come back later for them,” Cindy suggested.

  “No! We can’t!” he snapped, embarrassed that Cindy was seeing this. “You don’t understand! My grandmother needs these. ” Harold shook his head and stared at the floor. His shoulders sank in defeat.

  “Sorry, kid. I know how it is. But this ain’t a charity. I need you to pay, or move on. I have other customers to deal with,” said the cashier.

  “Lady, please,” groaned Harold. “You don’t understand. ”

  “I got it,” said a deep voice. Harold turned to see Londell James pulling out a thick roll of cash from his leather jacket. “How much does he owe?”

  The cashier looked at Harold. “$13.13,” she grumbled.

  Londell handed a twenty dollar bill to the cashier. “Gimme a pack of smokes, t
oo. And a candy bar for the little man here. ”

  “We don’t need your money,” snapped Cindy. “Ain’t that right, Harold?”

  Harold shrugged. His heart was pounding, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. “I need those bandages, Cindy. ”

  “Harold,” she insisted. “I’ll give you the money. I’ll have it after I babysit this weekend. ”

  Harold felt humiliated. He didn’t want to be Cindy’s charity case. And he didn’t want Londell’s money, but he was desperate. He had to do something for Grandma. Now.

  Londell eyed them intently.

  “We need these bandages today, Cindy. Thanks, but I can’t wait,” he whispered back.

  Cindy shook her head, as if he’d just insulted her. “Grandma Rose wouldn’t want you taking money from him. You know that. ”

  “But Cindy—”

  “Whatever, Harold,” she snapped, her voice a mixture of anger and frustration. “Do what you want. I’ll see you later. ” Cindy brushed past Londell and out the door.

  Londell smiled at Harold and picked up several bags of groceries. “Sorry about what my brother said before. Those boys need to learn some self-control,” he said.

  “My groceries,” said Harold, eyeing the bags in Londell’s hands. “I need them. ”

  Londell laughed. “What, you think I’m gonna steal them? C’mon. I’ll walk you home. Consider it an apology for what happened outside. ”

  Harold shrugged, unsure of what to say or do. Londell didn’t seem like someone he needed to be afraid of. “Okay, I guess,” he said.

  Londell and Harold walked down the street toward Harold’s block. They passed Londell’s boys again, only this time they were silent as Harold walked by.

  “Thanks for the money. My Grandma

  . . . she’s sick. Otherwise I wouldn’t have—”

  “Taken money from me?” Londell said with a knowing smile. “Guess you’ve heard about me, huh?”