Tears of a Tiger (3 page)

NOVEMBER 19

—Hey, Coach, what's doin'?

—How are you, Andy? How was your first day back to school?

—Not so good, coach. It was rough. I feel okay, I mean, I ain't really busted up that bad. I got a few bruises and burns left over on the outside of me, but the inside of me is hurtin'. You know what I mean?

—I hear you, man. It's a rough scene to handle. How about your friends and your family? They're behind you, aren't they?

—Yeah, I guess. Me and B.J. and Tyrone'll never be the same, but we'll always be real tight because of this. And the other kids are tryin' real hard to be understandin'. My folks—well, you know how it is. My dad keeps tellin' me to be strong and put this all behind me. My mom won't really look at me. She cries a lot, but she hasn't said much about the accident after that first night.

—What about
you,
Andy? How do
you
feel about all this? This is quite a bit for you to handle.

—I'm okay.

—C'mon now. You just said you felt like you were hurting inside. What's going on?

—Well, if you really want to know, I wanted to die right after the accident. I wanted it to be me that was dead instead of Rob. He had so much goin' for himself. He woulda got that scholarship too, Coach. You know he woulda. He woulda made it big in the pro's too. He was 6 feet 5 inches and still growing. And he was my friend.

—You can't blame yourself forever, Andy. And if you had died instead of Rob, would you want
him
to be hurting like you are now?

—I don't know. I'm all mixed up.

—How long have you and Rob been friends?

—I remember the first time I saw him—tallest kid in the seventh grade. He and Tyrone were best friends from elementary school and they went around callin' each other “Tyronio” and “Roberto” like some kind of weirdos or something. Later on they started callin' me “Andini,” but it was never as cool as their names because Andrew just didn't sound good endin' with an “o.” You know what I mean?

—Yeah, I hear you.

—After I got to know them, and the three of us started hangin' together, I decided it didn't sound so bad. Anyway, the first day I saw him, he was pickin' his hair out with his red pick and diamond-lookin' things on it. I went over to him, and said, “Won't yo' mama get mad when she finds out you took her pick?” He slowly put the pick in his back pocket, slowly looked at me, and then proceeded to beat the snot out of me. We've been tight ever since.

—Nothin like a good fight to start out a solid friendship.

—Me and Rob and Tyrone had most of our classes together, and even went out for the junior high basketball team together. B.J. tried out too, but he didn't make it. I guess you know, Coach, that B.J. has tried out for basketball every year for six years, including junior high, and never made it once. He keeps sayin' he's gonna be the next Spud Webb.

—Yeah, that B.J. is something else.

—He's got more guts than I'll ever have. It was B.J.'s idea to try to climb on the hood to rescue Rob. Like I said, he's the one with the guts.

—From what I hear, you have your share of guts and courage too. Without you, the other boys may have been injured much more than they were. Wasn't it you that helped get Tyrone and B.J. out of the car?

—Don't believe everything you hear. I think it was the other way around. Actually, I don't really remember…. but I couldn't get to Robbie. I couldn't get to Robbie.

—That's right. You
couldn't.
There are some things that are beyond our power to control.

—I coulda controlled the drinkin'. I knew better. We all did. We just never figured it would happen to us.

—I hear you.

—I never will know why I didn't get hurt worse—I shoulda been hurt so bad that at least I had to stay for a couple of months—but they let me go home in two days. My burns weren't too bad.

—Well, except for the miscellaneous Band-Aids, I'd say you look pretty good, considering. Have you recuperated from that court ordeal yet?

—After I got out of the hospital, and after all the police investigations, and I found out that I had to go to court, I was really scared. I really appreciate you comin' down there, Coach.

—No problem, kid. Just wanted to let you know we're all behind you.

—I was surprised so many kids from school was there—all the kids from S.A.D.D., several other teachers. Of course, Rob's parents, my parents, and Keisha was there. It was almost as bad as the funeral. When the judge talked to me, and I cried, in front of everybody, I was kinda embarrassed, but I guess that was okay—I guess they understood. A lot of them was cryin' too.

—I was too, Andy. There's no shame in tears.

—Coach, can you explain somethin' to me?

—Sure, Andy, if I can.

—I had been charged with DWI and vehicular homicide, but they dropped the vehicular homicide charge because of my age and good-driving record. I ended up gettin' my license revoked until I'm twenty-one, and a two-year suspended sentence. Even I thought it was a real easy sentence, maybe too easy. Do you think that was right? Shouldn't I been sent to jail or somethin'?

—The judge did what he thought was best in your case, Andy. You gotta stop punishing yourself.

—I think I would have felt better if I woulda had to suffer and complain a little.

—You
are
suffering, Andy. The judge knows that. We all do. And we'll help you all we can. You come see me whenever you need to talk, okay?

—Yeah, man. Thanks. When can I play ball again?

—What does your doctor say?

—I have nothin' broken—just some slight burns, a few cuts, and a couple of ugly bruises. When I was in the hospital, they ran all these tests, but everything came out okay. They told me I was lucky…. Yeah, right.

—Don't you have to go to the Health Clinic for your Alcohol Rehabilitation classes?

—Yeah, I go every Saturday from six in the morning till six at night.

—Wow, that's a long day.

—Yeah. They said they wanted my attention
first
thing in the morning. Well, they sure got it. That's even earlier than I leave for school. I went to the first one last week. It wasn't so bad. Actually, I learned a lot.

—Did you talk to the counselors there about returning to normal school activities, including basketball? Games start at eight, you know. Can you make it on Saturday?

—Yeah, no problem. They said they wanted me to have as normal a school life as possible. It's not like these programs that take away all your privileges completely. So I asked them about sports, and they said that as long as I didn't miss any sessions over there and was able to keep my grades somewhere above basement level, I could play basketball again. I'd like to try, Coach.

—It's been tough on all of us, Andy. We haven't had a practice, and we've forfeited two games since the…accident. But I feel that it's time to move on. I think Robbie would have wanted us to keep playing, don't you?

—Yeah, I think he woulda.

—We'll have our first practice tomorrow. I'll see you then.

—Thanks, Coach…for everythin'.

November 22

Dear Saundra,

Well, how is California treating you? Do you like it any better since your moved? My dad won't let me call you long-distance anymore since we talked all night last month. The bill came to over $200.00 and he was ready to kill me. Even after that great Thanksgiving meal we had yesterday, he wouldn't give in. He just doesn't understand that when your best friend moves 2,000 miles away, you just have to do a lot of catching up. I've got so much to tell you—just wait until you hear what happened at school

Two weeks ago, right after a basketball game, Robbie Washington got killed in a car accident. It was awful. Andy Jackson was driving, and B.J. Carson and Tyrone Mills were also in the car. Those three got out okay, but Robbie, he got burned to death ‘cause the car blew up or something. Everybody at school was crying and they had this special memorial service for Rob. Then these people from downtown called “grief counselors” came to talk to us. We were supposed to “share” our sorrow with them. Yeah, right. Mostly they sat around and looked concerned and smiled a lot. What seemed to help us the most was us talking in small groups with our friends and some of the teachers. It's going to be rough getting over this. Hardly any of us ever knew anybody who had died before. You kinda figure if you're 17, you'll live forever. But Robbie didn't. That's scary.

Anyway, I told you that I've been kinda liking Tyrone ever since school started, but he never paid me much attention. Well, he called me the day after the accident and we talked for about three hours. (Good thing it wasn't long-distance!) He told me how the police questioned him, and how bad he felt, and how he was glad to have me (me!!) to talk to. He told me he thought I was cute, but he didn't want to bother me because he thought I was going with Gerald. (Be for
real
!) I told him that me and Gerald were just friends. Gerald's cousin, Latrice (Remember her? The one who got pregnant?), and my older sister, Jackie, were best friends, so me and Gerald knew each other pretty well. But I never even considered going with him. So I told Tyrone all this, and he asked me if he could come over on that Saturday. So, we've been talking pretty regular ever since then. I still can't get over it—he is so fine!

Andy and Keisha are still hooked up. She said to tell you hi next time I write to you. She said Andy is having a hard time adjusting to the accident. I guess I would too, if I was driving and my best friend had gotten killed. He gets these crying spells, she said, and gets real depressed. His mother is sending him to a shrink, I heard. As far as I'm concerned, his mama needs a shrink. When she comes to the basketball games, which isn't often, she wears high heels and a silk dress and a full-length leather coat; all the other mothers wear sweat suits and jogging shoes. She always seems uncomfortable there—like the noise of the game offends her or something. I don't remember his dad ever showing up at all.

Well, I'm getting one of those sore spots on my finger from writing all this. If anything else happens this exciting, I'm going to just have to sneak and call you anyway. My dad won't really kill me—he just hollers a lot. I'm sending you the last issue of
The Hazelwood Herald
so you can catch up on the rest of the school stuff. Write back as soon as you can. I hope you had a great Thanksgiving.

Love,
Rhonda

P.S. Girl, that Tyrone can really kiss!!!!!!!!! Makes me want to stand up and shout Hallelujah!

Gerald Nickelby

English Homework

November 29

Personal Essay

Topic—If I could Change the World

If I could change the world I'd get rid of peanut butter, Band-Aids, and five-dollar bills. I know this sounds like a weird list, but I got my reasons.

First, I'd get rid of peanut butter. When I was little, peanut butter and jelly was my favorite kind of sandwich. Mama would fix it as a special treat and it always made my lunch box smell so good. But Mama left and the peanut butter stayed. We get it free, so there's jars of it sitting around. Sometimes that's all there is. It sticks to my teeth and it seems like it sticks my bones together—it always makes me feel clogged up.

I'd also get rid of Band-Aids—for two reasons. One, they're beige. They say on the box, “skin tone” is the color of the bandages inside. Whose skin? Not mine! So I HATE wearing Band-Aids because they're so noticeable and people always say, “How'd you get that cut, or that bruise, or those stitches?” And I always have to make up a reason about how I hurt myself. When Andy came back to school after the accident, he was wearing a bunch of Band-Aids. At least it took the attention away from me for a while. But I'd still eliminate Band-Aids—at least beige ones.

Finally, I'd get rid of five-dollar bills. With a five-dollar bill, somebody's stepfather can buy a bottle of whiskey, a nickel bag of pot, or a rock of crack. He smokes it, or drinks it, and goes home and knocks his kids around, or his wife (before she got sick of it and left). He makes his kids wish they could leave. The next morning he doesn't even remember what he did. With a five-dollar bill, Andy and the guys bought a six-pack of beer. They ended up buying five dollars worth of death. It seems like all a five spot can do is buy trouble, so I'd get rid of five-dollar bills.

So, to make MY world better, I'd get rid of peanut butter, Band-Aids, and five-dollar bills.