“Because,” said Clifford. “Dude got rights. You got his baby in there. I hate how these babes all act like every brother is a deadbeat and won’t take care of his kids, when half the time dudes don’t even know about the baby until the kid looks them up on Facebook twenty years later.”
“So, if your ex-girl told you that she was pregnant by you, you would step up and marry her?”
Clifford reared back as though she had slapped his face.
“Naw!” he said. “I’m only twenty four. I’m too young for marriage. But I would work something out. Ima’ take care of my kids. You should at least tell the brother and give him a chance.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Sasha. She smiled at Clifford.
Damon
Damon knocked on Mr. Tally’s office door.
“Come in,” said Mr. Tally in his deep, mellow voice. Damon pushed open the door and stepped into the office. He closed the door behind him and looked around at the office curiously. There were two heavy-laden bookshelves that bulged with books. Mr. Tally was sitting behind his desk, typing on a laptop. There was paper piled up and strewn across every available surface.
“Hey, Mr. T,” said Damon. “How ya doing? Could I talk to you?”
“Mr. Hamilton,” said Mr. Tally, looking up from his work. He stood, moving his big body with surprising speed. “I’m fine.”
He held out his hand and gave Damon a quick shake. Then he gestured with his hand.
“Have a seat, sir,” said Mr. Tally, sitting back down. “What can I do for you?”
“Damon cleared his throat.
“I need a favor,” he said. “And I don’t really know many teachers that well here.”
“What sort of favor?” asked Mr. Tally. He was looking wary.
“See,” said Damon, looking down at his hands. “I want to apply for the Bill Gates scholarship. I have to do it by January. I need somebody to give me a recommendation and you’re the only person I thought of here that might could do it.”
“Might could, huh?” asked Mr. Tally. He smiled. “I think it’s great that you’re considering going for it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You surprise me, though,” said Mr. Tally.
“How so?” asked Damon.
“I’ve looked at your grades, and you’re a pretty good student, but your teachers tell me that you could put forth a lot more effort,” said Mr. Tally. “Doesn’t sound like you really want this scholarship. It is very competitive.”
“I do, sir,” said Damon, fiercely. “I’ve kept my grades high enough to apply for it.”
“Yeah,” said Mr. Tally. “But for me to recommend you for it, I’ve got have some assurance that you’re going to try to do better than high enough to get by.”
Damon wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t.
“I want to get into a really good school,” said Damon. “But most of the really good schools cost the world and my parents ain’t got that kind of money. They already got two in college. My brothers had to go to junior college first because it was cheaper. Both my brothers work but my parents help out. My oldest brother is married with a couple kids. He’s on his own. Then there is me. My sister goes here. My mom is laid off and my dad’s about tapped out financially.”
“Why did come here for your senior year?” asked Mr. Tally, as if he really wanted to know.
“My moms kind of wanted me to come here from the get go, but it was tradition. All my brothers graduated from Southern, so I wanted to go there, too. My old man said it was cool as long as I kept up my grades.”
“So you kept them up just high enough to keep your parents off you back, huh?” asked Mr. Tally, referring to Damon’s B average.
“Nerds get jumped,” said Damon, with a shrug. “Four point oh will get a brother fronted off.”
“I heard you got fronted off without the four point oh,” said Mr. Tally.
“True,” said Damon, slightly stunned that he had never thought of it in quite that way.
“You want to tell me what happened?” asked Mr. Tally.
“Why you want to know about that?” asked Damon, frowning. “It’s dead.”
“You are asking me for a favor, Mr. Hamilton,” said Mr. Tally. “Not the other way around. I am not in the habit of lending my recommendation to people that I do not know and trust. If I give you a recommendation and you mess up, I look bad. I don’t like to look bad.”
“Oh,” said Damon.
“Now, if the problem was with you, I want to know about it,” said Mr. Tally. He steepled his fingers in front of him and leaned forward on his elbows. “Then I make my decision as to whether or not to give my recommendation.”
Damon started the story about Craig Frazier, haltingly. Damon remembered the scene vividly; recalled the metallic taste of fear and shook his head to clear it.
“Then,” he said, winding down, “I called my dad on the cell phone to tell him I wasn’t going back. I knew that there were witnesses and if my moms heard about it from somebody else, she would be at the school taking no prisoners and making things worse.”
Mr. Tally shook his head in sympathy.
“So, what happened?”
“Sherry finally brought D. Dog up on charges of domestic abuse. He got convicted. He’s supposed to be back in Lansing, but I haven’t seen him. I don’t know what happened with Sherry. She probably had to leave, too.”
After he’d finished his story Mr. Tally stared at him for a long moment.
“It’s interesting,” Mr. Tally said, leaning his elbows on the desk, the fingertips of his hands still touching in front of him. He looked a Damon very solemnly.
“What?” asked Damon.
“I’ve been watching you around school,” said Mr. Tally. “You’re a loner, like you got in big trouble before and are down to your last chance to get it right. I would have thought that you
