Zoey and the Zombies (A Mondamin Court Adventure)

Chapter 3: part 6

Dontaye Higgs's head swung around. He stared down the street, his eyes narrowing. Had he really just heard that?

James Cavendill, a beefy man in his mid-fifties, and one of Dontaye's best friends, followed his gaze. They were also neighbors—Dontaye lived on the corner of the Mondamin U, and James lived next door. For the first couple of years he'd lived here, he'd known James only casually. Then James's wife died of cancer and Dontaye's wife had left him. The bachelors had looked out for each other these last five years and become best of friends.

"I did not just hear that!" Dontaye swore and started across the street. On the far sidewalk, he could see the three Harrish kids—Padme, Manny, and Amala. They stood stock still, their faces pale and uncertain.

On the porch behind them sat David Jones. He looked disheveled in a dirty flannel shirt and jeans. His limp, thinning, brown hair hung down over malevolent eyes, and there was a beer can in one hand. Drunk, as always.

"Is there a problem?" Dontaye shouted. James had chased after him, and Dontaye felt James catch a hold of his shirt and pull him to a stop. "Is there?"

"I don't want a bunch of kids running all over my property," David shouted back at him. "I got my rights, you know."

"Bullshit," Dontaye raged. "I heard that word. First off, the kids are on the sidewalk, public property. Second, you don't care if the Hillcrest kids run across your property."

"That's different," David maintained.

"Cuz they're white. I heard, I heard what you said."

"So? I got my rights. I can have my beliefs. I don't need a . . ." He paused, and for a second, Dontaye thought he was going to use the N word. "Someone like you telling me what I can believe."

"You want to be a racist prick?" Dontaye howled. James was holding on for dear life and trying to pull Dontaye back across the street. "Fine, say it to me. I've got more than fifty years of putting up with dumb-fuck redneck white folk like you. I can take it. But don't you ever unload that kind of language on a kid, for Christ's sake. I ought to come over there and—"

"It ain't worth it, Dontaye," James kept saying. "He ain't worth it."

The two girls bolted across the street, heading for their house. Manny made to follow, but James caught him with his free hand. "We don't all feel that way," he told the kid. "You know that, right?" Manny nodded and then took off after his sisters.

David took a long, insolent swig on his beer and then threw the empty can in his yard. With one last defiant look at Dontaye, he turned and went inside.

Dontaye broke away from James's grasp and started back toward his own house, cursing all the way.

"Let it go, man, let it go," James advised. "That asshole, he's been a bad apple since the day he was born. The only reason he's alive is because he's not worth a murder charge."

Dontaye let out his breath. "Some days I wonder," he growled.

"Come over to my place, have a beer. After that bullshit, you need it."

"Yeah, sure." Dontaye agreed. They made their way to James's house, Dontaye's blood pressure slowly dropping and his eyes slowly uncrossing.