That night he sat outside with the black dog's head in his lap drinking toasts to Levering's coral tree. At some point he fell asleep. Hours later he came awake. The stars were shining and his neighborhood was quiet and peaceful. He felt safe even though he was outside because there was no light stronger than a star shining on him or his promise.
shift, shift, shift
B
ut I ain't did nuthin',? Darryl said in a voice that was sometimes husky and sometimes high.
?If you ain't did nuthin' then why they kick you outta school?? The ex-convict asked. They were facing each other in Socrates' apartment.
?It wasn't my fault,? the skinny boy said. He had shot up in the last year. Almost as tall as Socrates, the boy slouched under the angry glare.
?Then whose fault is it??
?It was Cassandra. If she wasn't always messin' wit' me everythin' woulda been okay. But she always wanna be makin' fun.?
?So you hit her??
Darryl's head bowed even lower.
?You hit a girl on the school yard but it wasn't your fault? Somebody threw your fist for you?? Socrates brought his knuckle underneath Darryl's chin and pulled him up straight. ?Huh??
?I didn't hit her wit' no fists. I just pushed her an' she fell. I'idn't mean it.?
What Darryl saw in Socrates' eyes had meant death for some unlucky men in the past. Darryl knew all those men's names and the exact time of each death. He was the closest living being on earth to the ex-convict/murderer turned boxboy. Darryl had also killed once and confessed to Socrates. There were no secrets between man and boy.
?Ain't you learned nuthin', Darryl? Ain't you listened t'me at all??
?She was makin' fun'a my clothes. I asked her to go out wit' me an' she run to her friends an' started talkin' to them 'bout how I was dirty an' dressed bad.? Darryl was shaking with rage even while he cowered under Socrates' stare.
?What the MacDaniels said about this?? Socrates asked.
?Nuthin'.?
?You told 'em??
?Yeah,? Darryl complained. ?They just said not to do that no more and that I better just go to Bounty for the day I was suspended so I don't get in no trouble while they at work.?
?They didn't make you do nuthin' else??
?No.?
Darryl slumped away from the big hand. The ex-convict could see by the way the boy held his shoulders that he expected to get hit. He'd been standing in that posture ever since Socrates came up and asked him why he was at work when it was a school day.
?I'm not gonna hit you, li'l brother,? the man said. ?Somethin's wrong here but hittin' ain't gonna make it right.?
?What then?? Darryl asked.
Before Socrates could answer, Killer started barking in the yard. Then a hard knock came on the door.
Socrates hesitated a moment. Maybe, if Darryl wasn't there, he would have fished his .38 from behind the loose board in his kitchen wall.
Instead he called out, ?Who's out there bangin' like that??
?Police!?
There were three white men standing at Socrates' only door. Two of them were in uniform and one sported a well-worn brown suit. Socrates cursed himself silently for never putting in the escape door he'd always thought about.
