Ola Shakes It Up (14 page)

“Since when did you start reading the news?” Aeisha squinted at the paper from behind her glasses. “Boy, you must be really bored.”

I started to shake my head, then stopped. Aeisha was right. I was dying of boredom here in Walcott. That week had been especially bad. I'd given up on all my plans for school, and I'd stopped snooping on the neighbors now that I knew what they were up to. I was afraid that if I saw somebody else stretching a rule, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from joining in. I'd even kept away from Mr. Elijah so that I wouldn't be tempted. The only fun I did have was when Lillian had decided to keep me busy one day after school by teaching me how to cook. We had to hold our noses to eat the burnt rice, but everything else came out good.

Aeisha hopped up on one of the stools and took a piece of toast from the plate sitting in the middle of the counter. “Morning, Lillian.”

Lillian looked over her shoulder and gave Aeisha a smile. “Good morning.”

Aeisha dropped her toast.

“She smiled at me,” Aeisha whispered, leaning toward me. “What did you do to her, Ola?”

I shrugged. The rest of the family was only just beginning to notice the change in Lillian. “I don't know. She's in a good mood or something.”

Aeisha looked at Lillian one more time and picked up her toast. She took a tiny bite out of it. Aeisha even eats like an
old lady. She has toast and coffee for breakfast every morning.

“Listen, Ola. Don't worry so much about school,” Aeisha said in between bites of her toast. “You just gotta hang in there. Eventually people will learn to like you.”

I thought about giving Aeisha a big kick in the shins but stopped myself. She had been in an even worse mood since she and Otis had switched their tests on Thursday. She was just taking all her nervousness out on me 'cause I was the only one who knew about it.

“Why don't you go over and help Otis? I heard Davis crying this morning,” I suggested. I had promised myself that I would be super nice to Aeisha until she found out about her grade on that test. And I figured the best way to do that was to get her out of the house so I wouldn't end up breaking that promise.

Aeisha put her coffee cup down with a clatter. “What do you care about that?”

“Nothing. I just thought you might want to spend some time with Otis.” I felt bad sending Aeisha off on another one of her missions to help poor Davis, 'cause I knew it wasn't gonna work. Aeisha doesn't know anything about babies. Not like me. I'd helped Mrs. Gransby baby-sit her grand-kids lots of times.

I waited for Aeisha to say something smart back, but she didn't. I looked up and saw that she had her head down, practically in her plate. Aeisha actually looked embarrassed! And all because I had mentioned Otis's— “Oh, no, Aeisha. Not Otis!”

Aeisha's eyes blinked quickly, and then I knew for sure
that she was hiding more than just her science grade. Aeisha had a crush on Otis, of all people!

“He's not so bad,” Aeisha said quickly.

I nodded slowly. Reading all those romance novels must have made Aeisha's brains turn to mush. I should have known something was wrong with her when she started talking to Otis. It wasn't just that he was a dweeb; she actually liked him. Gross.

I had to get out of there before I started laughing. I didn't think that would qualify as being super nice. I ran out of the kitchen, holding my mouth, and bumped straight into Dad. “Hi, Dad. What are you doing home? It's Saturday, you know.”

Dad blinked sleepily. He looked tired. “Fresh.”

I tugged on one of his hands. “Don't forget our appointment tonight. Eight o'clock. I have a lot to talk to you about.”

Dad nodded. “For your information, I have you down in my book, Ayeola. And I'm home because I have an appointment with Lillian this morning.”

“Lillian? Really?”

“Yes, I have an appointment with her great coffee.” Dad yawned. “If I don't get some soon, I'm gonna pass out, hear?”

I stepped out of the way quickly and moved to sit on the stairs. Dad had been really good about keeping all our appointments, even if it meant leaving work and then having to go back. Mama said that the plan hadn't worked the way she had hoped but that this was a nice compromise.

“Out of my way, Ola.”

I looked up and saw Khatib on the stairs, bundled up in
his winter coat and wearing his sweatpants. He was carrying a small black bag, but it wasn't his gym bag.

I moved over a little so Khatib could pass. “Going to basketball practice?”

“Yeah,” Khatib mumbled, heading toward the front door.

“Well, where's your basketball sneakers? Where's your gym bag?” I asked loudly. It was strange that Khatib would have forgotten those. He took them to every basketball practice.

Khatib shrugged and pulled on his gloves. “Don't need them today. See ya later.”

I ran to go look outside through the picture window. Khatib hadn't even blinked at my questions, but that didn't mean they weren't good questions. How could he be going to basketball practice without his sneakers? Unless maybe he wasn't playing. Maybe the coach had benched Khatib for some reason. But that wasn't the only strange thing. Not only was Khatib going to basketball practice without his sneakers, he was also going there at least an hour late. Practice started at seven-thirty every Saturday. I ran to the closet and pulled on my coat quickly. This was just what I needed to keep me busy. Maybe I could figure out what was going on with Khatib by watching his basketball practice. I ran outside just in time to see him turn the corner and disappear. Luckily, there were plenty of trees and bushes in this neighborhood that I could duck behind, so I could follow Khatib without him catching me. For once I was grateful that I didn't know everybody in the neighborhood, or else somebody would have called out my name and blown my cover.

I followed Khatib for four blocks, slowly. He was walking in the direction of the main road, where the bus stop was. I made sure that I stayed way behind him so he couldn't see me. Finally I saw him stop at the bus stop, which was in front of a big stone church. I stopped and ducked behind a huge statue at the side of the church. Khatib was peering at the bus schedule.

Next time I would remember to bring Aeisha's binoculars, I told myself. This was just like being a spy, and I thought I was pretty good at it 'cause Khatib hadn't caught me yet. I wondered if this would be a good career for me: Ola Benson, private eye. Spies got to do all sorts of unusual things. I poked my head out from behind the statue and froze suddenly. Khatib was walking right toward me!

I huddled behind the statue and tried to make myself as small as possible. I hoped he just wanted to look at the statue and wasn't coming over to yell at me. I waited quietly for a few seconds. Then I waited for a few more. I didn't hear the sound of Khatib s shoes or the rustle of his jacket or anything at all. I peered out from the side of the statue at the bus stop, but Khatib wasn't there! Where was he? I hadn't heard a single bus pass by yet. I scurried to the other side of the statue and peeked around the other side. Khatib was nowhere to be seen.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped back and hit my head on the statue, hard. “Oww!”

“You okay?”

I nodded slowly. My eyes were still blurry with tears of pain, but my ears were working fine. It wasn't Khatib who'd
found me behind the statue. I blinked the tears away quickly and looked with surprise at the person in front of me. It was Maria Poncinelli — bandanna, torn jeans and all.

“You sure?” she asked, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket. She was wearing a big black leather jacket, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was tucked inside her coat.

I nodded again and touched the new lump on the back of my head. I was gonna have to rethink my career as a spy. First I lost the person I was following, then I let someone sneak up on me.

I looked at Maria Poncinelli carefully. It was the first time she'd ever talked to me. Her voice was surprisingly nice. I'd thought it would be gruff and deep — to match her attitude. Instead, it was kinda high and musical.

Maria came forward and leaned one shoulder against the statue. There it was. The attitude. I was impressed.

“So what happened to you?” she asked casually. “You haven't been leaning against any walls lately.”

“I've had stuff on my mind.” I shrugged. I was surprised Maria had even noticed. “I figured you could hold up the wall all by yourself.”

Maria shook her head seriously.

“Just don't give my place to anyone else,” I joked, leaning against the statue too. Maria didn't smile, and I wondered if it was because a smile would ruin the effect of her attitude or because she didn't have a sense of humor. I considered passing on Mrs. Gransby's advice about your smile being your passport but decided against it. She'd probably think I was stupid.

“You go to church here?” I asked, waving my hand in the direction of the church. My shoulder was starting to feel cold from where it was resting against the statue.

Maria nodded and looked bored. “My sisters are in there.”

“Yeah?”

“Antoinette and Careen.”

“Your sisters?” I nodded, shifting my weight to my other leg. “How come?”

“I'm supposed to be in there, too.” Maria frowned. She looked like joining her sisters was the last thing she wanted to do. “Stupid dance class.”

“Huh?” I stood straight, forgetting all about my attitude. I remembered Khatib.

“Mrs. Felix's dance class. They have it in the basement every Saturday and Thursday,” Maria informed me.

“For school?”

Maria looked at me like I was a dodo head. “You have to sign up for this class. Pay money. Mrs. Felix used to dance on the stage, and she's the best dance teacher in Walcott.”

I leaned my whole body against the statue now. Khatib hadn't been walking toward me earlier; he had been walking into the church. He wasn't going to basketball practice; he was going to dance class! Voluntarily!

“Mrs. Felix is nuts,” I heard Maria say.

“She is?”

“She must be crazy to come live back here after living in New York.” Maria shook her head.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, barely listening to her. Khatib was always complaining about having to take those dance classes
at school. But here he was taking dance classes outside of school when he was supposed to be at basketball practice. Why was he keeping this such a big secret? “Hey, is there any way you can see in there without going inside?”

Maria nodded. “There's a window in the back of the church.”

I started walking around the church quickly. To my surprise, Maria followed me, walking at her own pace. The back of the church had a small parking lot that was full of cars. Mrs. Felix's dance class must be really popular. I found the window Maria had told me about and bent down to peer into the basement of the church.

At first I couldn't make out anything. The basement was full of people, mainly girls dressed in tights and leotards and moving all around the room. From the quick way they were moving I could tell this wasn't a ballet class, like the one I used to take at the community center. It looked like a modern-dance class.

“That's Mrs. Felix,” Maria told me. She had bent down beside me and was looking inside, too. She was pointing to a short, round lady with curly red hair.

“She used to dance on the stage?” I asked. Mrs. Felix sure didn't look like a dancer. She was about fifty years old and chubby all over.

“That's what happens when you come back to Walcott,” Maria said with a twist of her lips. She looked really disgusted. “That who you're looking for?”

I looked in the direction where Maria was pointing and saw my brother, Mr. God's Gift to the World, in a corner with three other boys. Khatib was the tallest of the three
and stuck out 'cause he was the only one not wearing tights. He had on a pair of cutoff sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt. He and the three other boys were rehearsing some move where they ran three steps, jumped, then twisted in the air, landing with one foot on the ground and one way up in the air behind them. I watched them do it over and over again, expecting Khatib to fall and break his leg at any minute, but he didn't. Khatib did the move right every time. He was really dancing.

“That your brother or something?” Maria asked me.

“Or something,” I said. This person looked like Khatib, but he sure wasn't acting like Khatib. My brother would never give up basketball for dance lessons. Khatib had never even shown any interest in dancing. I thought about that and realized that it wasn't exactly true. It was Khatib who used to walk me to the community center to take my ballet class every week, and most of the time he stayed until it was over so he could walk me home again. But he used to complain backward and forward about it. Had Khatib been interested in dancing back then, too?

I watched Khatib for a few more minutes until the shock wore off, then I straightened up. I wasn't going to get any answers from staring at Khatib. I glanced at Maria, who was standing beside me and looking across the parking lot. I'd been so busy thinking about Khatib that I hadn't realized I was having an actual conversation with Maria.