The Battle of Jericho (5 page)

“Yeah! That would be tight,” she replied with what
sounded to Jericho like cautious enthusiasm. He was amazed.

“I think Kofi asked Dana, and you know Josh and November are joined at the hip!”

“Joined at the lip is more like it!” Arielle laughed, then added, “I gotta call November and Dana to see what they're wearing.”

“Why?” Jericho asked.

“'Cause we have to make sure nobody wears the same outfit, but everybody's outfit complements the others. Like if Dana wears leather, we won't wear it because that's her thing. But if November is wearing jeans, then we'll all wear jeans—as long as we have the right shoes.”

Jericho chuckled and shook his head. Girls and how they thought were a mystery to him. “Don't worry. I don't think the fashion police will get you if you wear the wrong shoes.”

Arielle replied, only half joking, he thought, “I
am
the fashion police!”

Jericho wasn't sure what to say next. “Uh, yeah,” he said finally.

“I guess I'll see you Saturday,” Arielle said, with that lilt in her voice that made him grin stupidly.

Jericho tried to think of something else to talk about to keep her on the line, but couldn't, so he just said, “Okay,” and she hung up.

He turned the jazz music back up loud, and let it take him beyond his small, brown bedroom. Good things waited for him. He was sure of it.

JOSH'S HOME WAS SUCH A SHARP CONTRAST
to his own, Jericho thought as he walked through the front door. He gave his Aunt Marlene a hug, placed his trumpet case with care on the floor next to him, and flopped comfortably on the soft leather sofa in the living room. He sighed with contentment as he looked around. African artifacts from Brock and Marlene's many trips to Ghana and Ethiopia decorated the mantle and bookshelves. A large, carved giraffe stood in one corner, and several beautifully carved masks grinned at him from the walls, which were painted a pale peach color. Turquoise accent pillows, redwood-trimmed furniture, and a golden hand-woven area rug sang harmony and happiness to Jericho. So very different from the bland, brown home he lived in. In the fireplace, orange flames crackled with bright intensity, making the room smell toasty and safe.

Jericho was just as comfortable here as he was in his own home, maybe even more. He envied the closeness of Josh and his aunt and uncle.

He loved to play his trumpet in this room. Sometimes Josh would be downstairs playing video games, his aunt and uncle would be out, and he'd have this wonderful room to himself. The tones seemed to dance off the wall here, sounding fuller and more powerful somehow. He could play like that for hours, but he usually had only a few minutes before Josh interrupted him. Josh couldn't seem to understand how serious the trumpet was to Jericho. Josh bounced from activity to activity, never really settling on anything for very long. But Jericho knew what he loved: his trumpet.

Josh thundered down the steps two at a time, heading for the rec room in the basement. He stopped short when he saw Jericho sitting on the sofa. “When'd you get here, Cuz?” he asked.

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Why you sittin' in the living room like company?”

“Just chillin'. I've always liked this room—makes me think back to when we were kids.”

“Yeah, remember when we were playing movie monster and broke that Ethiopian mask Mom liked so much?”

“Yeah,” Jericho said laughing. “She busted our butts for that one!”

The doorbell rang then. Josh pulled open the door, letting in November, Dana, and a gust of cold air.

“What you tryin' to do, girl?” he said to November, who, as usual, was carrying her digital planner.

“I figured if I bring the cold in with me, you'll appreciate
how warm I am!” she said teasingly. Jericho watched as Josh grinned. He looked like a puppy, performing for a treat from its master.

“Don't you ever go anyplace without that calendar?” Josh asked as he took her coat.

“This is my life!” she replied cheerfully. “I've got everything in here*, my volunteer schedule with the kids at Children's Hospital, the three second-graders I tutor in math, the parties I've been invited to—the works! Life gets complicated for a social butterfly like me if I don't write it down.”

Dana said nothing, but walked over to the fireplace, warming herself and looking carefully at each of the African artifacts on the mantle.

“What's up?” Jericho said to the girls. He looked out the front window, but there was no sign of Arielle.

“Dana's got the right idea,” November said as she joined her in front of the fire. “I don't know how your mother stands it, living up there in Alaska all the time,” she said to Jericho.

“I guess you get used to anything after awhile,” Jericho said with a shrug. He walked into the kitchen, got a soda from the refrigerator, and drank it down in a couple of gulps. He burped loudly just as November and Dana walked in.

“Yuk!” said November. “Dudes are so gross!”

“You've never burped?” Jericho asked with a grin.

“Not like that!”

He tossed her a can of cola, and said, “I dare you to chug it and then not burp!”

She tossed it back and said, “Grow up!”

“Here, help me take this case of colas downstairs,” Jericho said. “I'm gonna make you burp before this night is over!”

November laughed, but she grabbed the sodas and headed down the stairs to Josh's rec room. Dana followed them, carrying a couple of bags of chips. Josh's father had remodeled the basement so that the boys and their friends could dance or play video games or just sit around and watch TV. It was even soundproofed so that their music, which they played as loud as the machine would go, wouldn't bother the adults upstairs.

Jericho heard the doorbell ring again. He hoped it was Arielle, but he didn't have the nerve to go back up and open the door.

“Hey, Cuz, Kofi's here, and so is your girl Arielle!” Josh shouted down the basement steps.

Jericho cringed. November and Dana hooted with laughter. Minutes later, Josh stomped down the steps, followed by Kofi in his heavy-footed army boots, and Arielle. As Jericho watched her come down the steps, she seemed to float, especially after all the noise that Josh and Kofi made.

“Did you bring your CDs?” November asked.

“Yeah, I got some new ones—check this out,” Arielle said as she showed the girls her collection. They put a couple in the player and as the music began, Jericho relaxed a little.

“Who wants to order something from Pizza Hut?” Josh asked. “They got a pepperoni special this week.”

“Order from LaRosa's instead,” November suggested. “For every pizza you buy this month, they're donating five dollars to the Free Store.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Josh asked.

“I make it my business to be well informed about all sorts of serious stuff—from shoe sales to canned-goods drives to pizza specials. And you should too,” she added.

“I got you to do that for me, my little pepperoni!” Josh said as he hugged her.

“Some stuff you gotta do for yourself, Josh,” November told him seriously.

“I'm a vegetarian,” Dana explained, as she nibbled on a corn chip. “Make mine just cheese.” Josh nodded as he called in the pizza order.

“I thought you eat raw meat for breakfast!” Kofi teased.

“Why you say that?” she asked.

“'Cause you so bad, girl. I heard you wanted to be a Boy Scout instead of a Girl Scout when you were little. Is that true?”

Dana laughed. “Sort of. I hated those ugly green Girl Scout uniforms—the boys' uniforms looked so much better, and they didn't have to sell those stupid cookies!”

“Speak for yourself, girl,” Jericho joked. “Those cookies are sacred to me—they're a whole new food group!”

“That's what I like about you, Dana,” Kofi continued. “You think for yourself—you're a trendsetter. Have you noticed the little ninth-grade 'Dana clones' who try to dress like you?”

Dana shrugged. “I can't help it if people copy me. I just do my own thing.”

“How's your dad?” Arielle asked her.

Dana sighed. “He's still in the Middle East someplace—he's not allowed to tell us where—but it's always dangerous over there. We don't know when he'll be home again.” Her father, an Air Force lieutenant, was a career military man. “He's, like, my hero, you know. He's always told me to be whatever I wanted to be, and encouraged me to try new things, not to let boundaries stand in my way. He taught me to fly a plane when I was just ten.”

“You can fly a plane?” Kofi asked in amazement.

“I've soloed in a single engine, and I could probably handle a bigger plane in an emergency if I had to,” she replied, her eyes shining. Josh looked at her with awe.

Jericho didn't care. He was just glad that Arielle was sitting with them, looking relaxed and comfortable. He wished he felt the same.

The evening moved softly and easily, Jericho thought. Josh and November danced, caught up in their own little world, Kofi played video games, and Jericho marveled at every moment with Arielle. She laughed at Josh's antics as he demonstrated, in hilarious detail, exactly what his parents looked like when they danced, but more importantly, she paid attention to Jericho, seemingly interested in his every word as he talked about school and made jokes about teachers. He was amazed. The pizza arrived, and Jericho, conscious of his weight and nervous around Arielle, found he had very little appetite. He ate only one small piece.

“So what's the big deal about the Warriors of Distinction?” Dana asked suddenly, jarring the easy conversation
that had surrounded the music and food. “Why isn't there a group called the Distinguished Women?”

“Maybe there aren't any distinguished women!” Kofi laughed at his own joke.

“I'm serious,” Dana continued. “Why aren't there girls in the group?”

“Aw, Dana, quit trying to put salt in the milkshake! It's the way the club has been for fifty years,” Josh complained.

“So, in fifty years, nobody ever asked the question? I think it's about time somebody did!” she continued. Jericho noticed that Kofi was frowning.

“It's called the
Warriors,
Dana,” Kofi said as if talking to a child. “That doesn't sound much like a club for girls!”

“So there's no such thing as women warriors? Don't get me started, skinny boy!”

Kofi's lips grew tight with anger. He didn't answer her.

“Oh, let the boys have their little club, Dana,” Arielle said. “Unlike women, they need stuff like that to help them grow up!”

“Besides,” November added, “the Warriors help so many people with that toy drive. Don't mess with what works. I admire their social activism.”

“You also admire their jammin' social events,” Arielle reminded her.

November grinned. “I gotta admit it. They look so good in those jackets, and they give those sweet formal dances, and Josh takes my breath away when he wears a tuxedo!” Josh grinned at her and took her hand.

Arielle laughed and said, “You two are a mess!”

“Well, I'm opposed to the idea of a club just for dudes,” Dana said again. “I just may have to do something about it!”

“You think you're gonna change a tradition that's been around for fifty years?” Josh said with derision. “Some things girls just don't need to be a part of!”

“And who are you to tell me what girls can and cannot do? Who made you king of the world, Mr. Cornflake Head?” Dana's anger was obvious and, judging by her tone of voice, growing stronger.

“And who made you queen?” Kofi answered for him. “You can't change a tradition just because it suits your mood! The world don't work like that!”

“I think she's right!” November said. “People get taken to court for discrimination like that! Not that I want to be in a stupid club named 'Warriors' of anything!”

“If I did decide to join, I ought to be able to!” Dana cried. “The club is way outdated.
Everything
is integrated now, and I'm not talkin' about racial fairness—I'm talkin' male/female stuff.”

Josh groaned. “Aw, girls always want what they can't have!”

November frowned at Josh. “I think Dana ought to have that right, if that's what she wants,” she said quietly.

Josh ignored her. “Every time we get something that's just for us dudes, girls want a piece of it—like the lady sportscasters on ESPN runnin' around the locker rooms after a game. You know they just want to see naked men in the shower!”

Dana threw her shoe at him. Luckily he ducked. “Girls ought to be able to do anything they want and be in any
club they want to be in,” she proclaimed. “Who made men the kings of the world?”

“Other men, of course!” November replied without smiling. The room was filled with hot, tense anger.

“HEY, ARIELLE,” JERICHO SHOUTED OVER
the accelerating noise of the argument, “come upstairs and let me show you something!”

“Good thinking,” she said as the discussion in the basement got louder and she hurried with him upstairs. “I wasn't ready to dive into that.”

“Me neither. I'm a lover, not a fighter,” Jericho said with a grin.

“Is that what you called me up here for?” she asked, as she grinned and smoothed the wrinkles from her hip-hugger slacks.

“No. I want you to meet my best friend.”

Arielle looked confused. “I didn't hear anyone else come in.”

Jericho smiled again. “She's right here, always waiting for me, always ready to take me to another place, a better place.”

“She?” Arielle asked.