Flying Lessons & Other Stories(24)

I wash the dishes and put them on a towel to dry. Then I grab the broom and sweep up the crumbs that Charlie’s spilled on the floor. Mama’s under the covers now, and I wonder if she’s asleep. So much for asking her to take me to the library.

Charlie’s coloring Disney Princesses and looks just fine, so I plop down on the couch and turn the TV on low. I pass all the kiddie channels quick so Charlie won’t start whining about watching one of them. I stop when I get to a kung fu movie with Bruce Lee. Mama and Charlie would always make faces and go watch something on the other TV when me and Daddy watched kung fu movies. I look at Charlie, and yup, she’s making a face, even though she’s still coloring.

When the movie’s over, Charlie asks to hang her pictures on the wall. I find some tape and we put Jasmine and Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella all over the room. I’m not into princess stuff, of course, but I think the pictures make the room look way better.

“I’m hungry,” Charlie says after we tape up the pictures. I warm up some beans and rice for her in the little microwave, wishing that it could give me superpowers like in Daddy’s stories.

“You’re not hungry?” Charlie asks me when I don’t sit at the table with her.

“Nah, I’m tired of beans and rice,” I say.

“Me too,” says Charlie, but she eats up the whole bowl.





FEBRUARY 23


“Can we go to the library, Mama?”

“Not now, Isaiah,” Mama says.

I suck my teeth, because the deadline for the story contest is tomorrow, and I have to finish typing Daddy’s story. I decided to use the one where Isaiah Dunn saves his mom from a sinking cruise ship. I’ve been working on it every day after school, and Sneaky thinks I’m crazy for carrying an extra notebook around and always wanting to be at the library. All I know is that it beats being crammed in the motel room, where there’s nothing to do but trip over each other and watch the same reruns on TV. Plus, Charlie’s always making noise and nobody tells her to shut up but me.

Mama makes beans and rice for dinner again, but I pour myself a bowl of cereal instead.

“You too good to have what we’re having?” Mama asks while I crunch on my flakes.

“No,” I say. “Just tired of always eating beans and rice.”

“Tired of the food we got?” Mama shakes her head, makes it seem like she’s not tired of eating the same thing, too. I don’t answer, but I feel my stomach start jumping around.

“Shoot, when you get a job and start buying the groceries, then you can decide what you’re tired of eating!” Mama says.

“When are you gonna get a job, Mama?”

Mama stares at me and I stare back. I can’t believe I said that to her, even if I been thinking it for a while. She gets up and before I can move, I feel the sting of her hand against my cheek.

“You grown enough to question me about what I do? You think your daddy would want you talking like that?” She’s mad, and her eyes are flashing. Well, I’m mad, too!

“You’re not the only one who misses him!” I yell. “And he wouldn’t want us living in this stupid motel with no money cuz you use it to get drunk!”

Charlie’s mouth falls open, but Mama just stands there frozen. I grab my backpack and coat, storm out the room, and slam the door.

It’s dark outside and cold enough to make my eyes water, but I take off running and don’t stop until my lungs feel like they’re gonna explode and I get a cramp in my side. I slow down and walk the rest of the way to the library.

It’s warm inside, and I hurry to find an empty computer. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I finish typing Daddy’s story. I spell-check everything just as they start to flicker the lights.

“Just five more minutes,” I plead with Mr. Shephard. He turns out to be a pretty cool dude, and gives me just enough time to e-mail the story.

I give a sigh of relief and lean back in the chair, feeling good. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn around, expecting Mr. Shephard.

It’s Mama. Charlie’s with her, sucking on her nasty fingers.

“Thought you’d be here.” She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t sound angry anymore, either.

“How’d you know?” I ask.

“I just had a feeling,” Mama says. “Your daddy would always come here, too. It was one of his favorite places.”

I pick up the notebook and show Mama.

“Did you know Daddy was writing stories about me? Did he show you?”

Mama smiles as she flips through the pages.

“I forgot all about this one,” she says. “He started writing in it after you were born, but I never knew what it actually was.”

I tell her about the contest and how I entered Daddy’s story and her eyes get happy and sad at the same time.

“Oh, Isaiah,” she says, “he would be so proud.”

Mr. Shephard comes over again and says hello to Mama.

“It’s hard to pull him out of here, isn’t it?” Mr. Shephard says with a warm smile.

“Yes, it is.” Mama puts her arm around me. “He’s just like his father.”

“Well, he’s always reading when I see him, and trust me, librarians love that!” Mr. Shephard turns to me. “What book are you reading now?”