flashback

t h i r t e e n

 

Danyelle

            Ceon and I walked in silence to the bus stop. I tapped my foot impatiently, afraid that the train conductor would follow us out. I kept glancing backwards, anxiously towards the direction of the train station, but he never appeared. I glanced back for about the third time when the bus pulled up right in front of Ceon. He gestured for me to go in first, which I did. I dropped $4.50 in coins into the machine for Ceon and I and we sat down close to the front in the nearly empty bus. I fiddled with my thumbs and watched as we cruised through downtown Sheathing. I looked up at the sky, the sun almost set with a beautiful pink and red sky. Dilapidated apartment windows winked at me in the dim red sunlight. Boys played handball on the sidewalks and girls jumped double-dutch and sang rhyming songs. Women sat on their house porches and chatted, each with a glass of lemonade in hand. I leaned against the wall of the bus and watched a boy ride no-handedly on his bike in front of the bus. As he sped down the street, his friends, boys and girls stopped to whistle and holler their hellos. “Hey, Theo!” I heard a girl yell, while keeping time with her double-dutching. The boy turned to the sound of her voice and gave her a salute. “Headed to the library, Teddy?” Another boy called as he dribbled his basketball down the sidewalk.

            Theo nodded and smiled and pulled the bill of his fitted cap farther down into his forehead. Ceon nudged me. “We’re here,” he said, just as the bus pulled to a stop and Theo pulled on his brakes. I stood up quickly and thanked the bus driver, who smiled. “You’re welcome, kiddo. Ain’t everyday someone says thanks to me.”

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I walked unto the sidewalk, Ceon trailing me. It was surprisingly warm in Sheathing and I could feel sweat trickling down my back underneath my sweatshirt. The boy was locking his bicycle to a rack in front of the library. He opened the door for me. “Thanks,” I said. Ceon nodded his gratitude. “Hey,” he said. “Are ya’ll from ‘round here? Ain’t never seen you at the slab before,” he remarked. “Slab? Where’s the Sl—’’ As I saw him up close, I saw that he had freckles dotting his tanned, chocolate cheeks and nose and a small gap in his two front teeth. I thought it was charming. He looked about fifteen and was about 5’6, a good 2½ inches taller than me. “No, we’re not from around here.” Ceon said.

Theo looked at Ceon with marble tranquility and turned back to me. “You need help with them bags?”

“No, we’re alright, thanks.” Ceon said again. Theo stared at Ceon and spoke with a disserting calmness. “I beg your pardon, but I don’t reckon I ever spoke to you, sir.” Ceon was taken aback. “So? You need help?” Theo insisted.

“Thanks,” I said, handing him my duffel bag. He stepped into the library with a swiftness and sleekness that I marveled at. It seemed like his home. “Hey, Ms. Genevieve.” He said, to the zitty librarian, taking off his hat to reveal freshly cut, wavy black hair. I gawked at the uniform she wore. Simply ridonkulous. “Theo, I done told ya you ain’t gotta call me Ms. Genevieve. Just Gen, to you sir,” she said smiling. “Always Ms. Genevieve this and Ms. Genevieve that!” she remarked to herself.

Theo smiled at her and placed my duffel bag unto a chair. “What you doin’ here anyway Ms. Genevieve? Din’t your shift end hours ago?” “Yeah,” sighed Genevieve. “But that fool called in sick when she know doggone well she ain’t sick. So I gotta take over.” Theo clucked his tongue. “Shame, Ms. G.” “A shame it is,” Genevieve said, shaking her head despondently.

He stuck his hand out to me good-naturedly. “The name’s Theodore. Named after Teddy Roosevelt himself. Some call me Theo. Some call me Teddy. You could call me whatever floats ya boat, but never Dora.” I shook him warmly by the hand. “Danyelle,” I said. “Some call me Dan. Some call me Danny. You can call me whatever you want.”