The Boy from Left Field (4 page)

Messages at Night

Martin shook his head in dismay. “Yeah? You sure? Well, that’s bad news. Maybe we’d better get out of here.”

“Okay, but … wait.” Hawk wanted to be sure the coast was clear and peered cautiously around the Dumpster. Then he stole forward to the end of the alley and cast a glance down the street.

“They’ve stopped at the corner,” he told his friend. “Ugh! Ringo has an arm on Elroy’s shoulder. They must be gang members together. I don’t get it. I heard the Rippers don’t like Afro kids.”

“Maybe they’re getting more broad-minded,” Martin said.

“Hold it! Elroy’s coming back. We have to hide again. I wonder how Panny’s doing?”

They scurried back behind the Dumpster and sprawled on the hard concrete, peering anxiously at the house across the street. A few seconds later Elroy reappeared. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked around. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular, but was apparently pondering something. Then he shrugged his shoulders and disappeared into the house.

A moment later, Panny zoomed into sight and braked sharply in front of the Dumpster. She cast a glance up and down the street, then slowly wheeled her bike into the alley.

“Wow! That was interesting. Who’s that weirdo Elroy was with? Must be a Ripper for sure. He looks like an evil dwarf from a comic book.”

“That’s the guy who stole my glove and gave me a black eye,” Hawk explained. “They call him Ringo — it’s some kind of joke they have.”

“I’m glad they have a sense of humour. They laughed while they beat you up, right?”

“It’s horrible that Elroy’s one of them. Not good for him and not good for getting my glove back. What do we do now? Maybe tell Mr. Rizzuto?”

“Wait a minute, you haven’t heard everything,” Panny said. “I was able to watch them quite closely. Just some dumb girl on a bike, they thought. And after watching them, I’m not so sure that your baseball pal Elroy is one of them at all.”

“What? Why not? He had an arm around the guy. They looked like friends to me,” Martin insisted.

“A spider hangs around with a fly, doesn’t he?” Panny reminded him. “And they get close together in the web before the spider eats him for dinner. So what does an arm on the shoulder prove? I was watching Elroy’s face, and trust me, that kid was scared to death. His hands were trembling the whole time. He looked a bit sick, too, when he started back for his mum’s place over there.”

“You mean that the Rippers are threatening Elroy? Then why did he get the glove from them?”

“Carrot and stick,” Panny suggested. “It could be — we don’t know for sure — that the gang is setting him up, or using him for something. They’re rewarding him and drawing him into the web. Anyway, he didn’t look very happy. If he’s really a bad guy, he’s not enjoying it very much.”

“What do we do now?” Martin asked.

“We keep spying on this place. Whatever Elroy is up to, it looks like he can lead us to the Rippers.”

“I can’t stay here very long,” Hawk said. “It’s getting late. My mum will be expecting me on the Danforth about now.”

“That’s okay,” Martin told him. “I’ll watch the place until dark. I can come back tomorrow, too. I’ve got your cell number, Panny. I’ll text you if anything happens, or if I need help. My aunt doesn’t even notice if I stay out. And to be on the safe side, all I have to do is leave the TV on in my room. She’ll fall asleep thinking I’m watching a game or something.”

“Good idea, Martin. I’ll walk part of the way home with our Hawk-boy here. Don’t forget to call me if you need us — and stay out of the way of that Ripper gang!”

Martin settled down behind the Dumpster. Panny handed him a sandwich, a can of juice, and a candy bar. “Just don’t fall asleep,” she told him, shutting up her pannier again. “Okay, Hawk, let’s walk!”

They waved goodbye to Martin, slipped away from Elroy’s house, and headed north up Carlaw. They soon cut over to Logan, then walked north toward Gerrard.

“Cheer up, Hawk, Panny told him. “Sure, it seems impossible, but you’ll get your glove back. Once the police break up that gang, all their loot will go back to the owners. And we might even help the cops crack down on those creeps.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Hawk mumbled. “But I don’t know if I can stand watching Elroy play with my glove and act as if he’s owned it from day one.”

“You don’t want to worry about that right now. Save some of your energy for spying on this bunch, and for class. By the way, when are you coming in with us?”

“I don’t know. It depends on my dad, I guess.”

Panny wheeled along for a while without speaking, then suddenly turned to Hawk. “You’re not scared of our class, are you?”

Hawk kicked at the sidewalk, grunted, then turned a fierce look on her, “Of course not! I’ve got good tests. I can do that work. The only reason I messed up was because Mrs. MacWhinney hated me.”

“Oh yeah? And I guess you thought she was the cream of the crop? You did your best work for her?”

Hawk frowned and shook his head. “Well, it’s true I didn’t like her — but I did some good work for her too!”

“Don’t worry! Ms. Calloway and Ms. Clarke are fair. They’ll give you credit for your good work. And they’ll help you. But don’t mess around with them!”

For some reason what she was saying irritated Hawk. “Why would I mess around? Anyway, I don’t even know if I want to go to your class. Everybody thinks they’re great in there because they’re all so gifted. I don’t care about that, but they just better not make fun of me!”

Panny smiled at him. “Oh, that’s what you’re afraid of, is it? Well, I think you’re tough enough to handle it. And I don’t mean in a stupid way…. But look, I’ve got to take off. Chew-Boy needs a walk by now. You’re okay on your own, aren’t you?

“I’m not a baby, Panny. I know all these streets. I know all of Riverdale. And my dad took me around the city quite a few times. I might even know it better than you.”

“Okay. I’ll try to find you tomorrow after school. Then we can decide what to do about Elroy. I sure hope Martin is all right back there.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

Panny zoomed off, picking up speed as she wheeled away. Once she’d disappeared amid the traffic, Hawk began his jog, which soon turned into a sprint — he knew it was late, and he’d decided to go straight home. He didn’t want any questions from his mum.

When he got to his own street, his breath was coming fast, and his chest hurt a little, but he pressed on, and after circling the Dumpsters, he caught sight of his mum pacing up and down beside the taxi, her scowl lingering even as he trotted up to her. “Where were you?” she demanded. “You were supposed to meet me on the Danforth!” At that moment he was very glad he’d made the extra effort.

“I’m not that late, Mum,” he reassured her. “We played a bit longer than usual and I helped Mr. Rizzuto in the store.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Hawk. An Ojibway boy doesn’t lie to his parents. I just talked to Mr. Rizzuto and he hasn’t seen you since this morning.”

Hawk stopped in his tracks, and thought very quickly. He smiled at his mother, moving closer and speaking in a placating “kid” voice that he seldom used. “Well, you see, Mum, I met this girl in the gifted class who wants to help me when I go in there. It’ll make it much easier for me. She’s really smart, and she knows all the kids. I was sure you’d want me to talk to her.”

“Oh, yeah. Where’d you meet her?”

“Outside of Mr. Rizzuto’s store.” (Hawk was thinking how much easier it was to fib when your fibs were a version of the truth.)

His mother seemed to relax. She put her arm around him. “Okay, I hope she
can
help you. And I hope you listen. You hungry? Mr. Selim sent out some butter chicken.”

“Wow! That’s great. I’m starving.”

A few minutes later they were sitting in the taxi, feasting on nan and the (slightly cold) butter chicken.

“There are a few things I want to talk over with you, Hawk. I don’t want you to get upset about anything I say, but you’ve got to listen carefully, otherwise you might not do the right thing, and all my plans will be shot.”

“Sure, Mum, I understand. Am I still going to see Dad tomorrow? Is he trying to get me into Panny’s class? She’s the girl who’s been helping me. I think I can be okay in there, Mum, and I really wanna get back to school. She says they have good teachers there — not like Mrs. MacWhinney — and so many ways to help you learn things.”

His mother didn’t answer immediately, but gave him a sharp look. She paused and seemed to be considering something.

“All right, son. But I have to tell you — you know that you’ll be going to see your father tomorrow. He wants to talk to you. He went over to speak with the board today after I did, to try to get you back into school, into the class you want.”

“Great!”

“But there’s something I have to remind you of. Just in case your father tries to spin things around. You’re my son. I have custody, and you’re bound to stay with me. Just remember that. Remember that your dad has no legal right to take you back, even though he has a right to see you. So you tell him so, you lay it on the line for him, if he tries to get you to stay with him!”

Hawk shook his head. Why was she going on about this? “You know I want to stay with you, Mum. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll tell Dad I want to stay with you.”

His mother smiled and looked relieved. She reached over, pulled him close, and gave him a hug. “Just remember you said that, son. I know you’ll never regret it. We’ve been real happy together, haven’t we?”

Hawk felt weighed down, but he managed a smile. “Sure, Mum.”

Storm Cloud nodded and took a large sip from her container of coffee.

“I sure wish we could get a place with a stove,” Hawk told her. “You have to drink coffee that’s always cold. I eat cold food a lot of the time. We don’t ever have hot water. I’m fed up living in this cab.”

“I know — and that’s exactly the second thing I wanted to talk about. I’ve got some news today. It may change the way we live. Son, would you believe it? I think we might be able to get out of this taxi and have a real apartment soon.”

Hawk squirmed in his seat with excitement. “When? When?”

Storm Cloud smiled. “Oh, pretty soon. I heard from a friend in Ottawa today. She’s a Native wife, just like me. The band up there is getting pretty active, doing protests and things, and they need volunteers. I mean, there’s a bit of money in it, too, but the best thing is that if I go up there to help, they’ll fix us up with an apartment. We won’t have to live in this taxi anymore. And it could happen very, very soon.”

Hawk felt a sinking in his stomach. His hands started shaking, and every fibre of his body moved to resistance. “Move to Ottawa? But Mum, I’m going to school here! I’ve got friends here. Mr. Rizzuto is helping me. I can make the Little League! We’re kind of partners, too, Mr. Rizzuto and I are. We’re looking for Babe Ruth’s baseball. I might be a millionaire! I don’t want to move to Ottawa. It’s freezing, and there’s nothing up there but politicians!”

His mother, disconcerted, swallowed the dregs of her coffee, squeezed the cup out of shape with her fingers, and gave him a very severe look. “Now, don’t talk nonsense, Hawk! You’ll go where your mother goes, and that’s the end of it! I haven’t quite decided on the move yet, but settling in Ottawa might be the best thing I could do for both of us. It’s a dead end here, and we have to live in this stupid taxi and I have to sell crafts on the streets. If I can do something else in Ottawa, I’ll love it there. You’ll love it there, too. Don’t go having a fit about nothing!”

“About
nothing
?” Hawk yelled.

“Now, that’s enough! Let’s not discuss it anymore. I just wanted to let you know what was happening — what might happen. Oh, wipe that sour look off your face — you look just like your dad when you make a face like that! We’ll talk about this again when you’re not so tired. Anyway, I brought you this comic I picked up on the Danforth. It should cheer you up. It looks like it’s about a Native hero, too. Just enjoy it and don’t worry about anything right now.”

Hawk took a deep breath, reached out for the comic book, and slipped away into the front seat, hiding his swelling eyes from his mother. He didn’t want to be a stupid crybaby, and he wouldn’t! All the same, he felt miserable and had to fight off the tears until he got caught up in the story.

Didn’t she know that everything was fine here and maybe getting better? Didn’t she see that it wasn’t worth moving to Ottawa even to get away from their miserable taxi?

He buried his head in the comic and tried to shut out the world. But even hours later, when darkness had settled down on the taxicab, the rough yard, and the blank buildings around, even as he fought to get to sleep, the terrible idea of moving away from his dad and his friends stuck with him. A blankness, a weight, seemed to hold him where he lay on the hard seat, and he squirmed restlessly to get comfortable.

Then, in the middle of his discomfort, something completely unexpected happened. There was a crash, a shattering of glass, a noise so close and so threatening that he jumped awake, shouting and swinging his arms in the darkness, as if to ward off the threat. He sat bolt upright. Something had showered on his clenched fists, something tangible and very real, like dust or small pebbles.

Seconds later his mother stood by the car. She yanked open his door, calling “Hawk! Hawk!” and pulling him out of the vehicle. She hugged him and he shook himself awake. Though he was shivering, he managed to reassure her.

“Mum, I’m okay. But look! Somebody threw a rock!”

His mother had managed to fetch her flashlight and together they examined the windshield, which had been shattered by something — an object, it seemed, hurled out of the darkness.

Sure enough, with the help of the flashlight they found a stone the size of a man’s fist amid a shower of glass on the rough earth a few feet from the front of the car.

“This is terrible,” his mother cried. “Who would do such a thing? Those damned street kids! If I ever catch them …”

Hawk stood shivering.
Street kids?
His mother might have hit on something without knowing it. Hawk thought of the Ripper gang, of the sinister figure of Ringo with his tattoos, his ugly face, and his sneering manner.