Walking across the parking lot of Freedom Middle School, Santiago kneeled beside the prone body of fourteen-year-old Tyler Blake.
“How long before EMT arrives?” he asked.
“Less than five,” Jessie called out.
“Is he gonna die?” Tyler’s twelve-year-old sister, Yesenia, asked beside him.
“He’ll be alright,” Santiago said, wishing the child would wake up. “Young men like your brother, they have the spirit of warriors. He might be down now, but he won’t be easily defeated.” He looked at her. “You wanna tell me what happened here?”
“Me and Ty were riding bikes in the playground when them Porter kids walked past. They said they wanted to ride our bikes, but it was getting dark, so we said no, we were about to go home. Daddy told us a long time ago we were responsible for the care of our stuff, and Cory, Mel, and Sarah don’t treat their own stuff with respect. Most important, we didn’t let them ride our bikes because we don’t like them. Cory and Mel said we probably stole the bikes, so they weren’t ours and they could ride them. The two brothers tried to jump Ty and he beat their asses… I mean butts. Sarah called their daddy once she saw her brothers were losing and next thing we know he’s running onto the playground and started beating on Ty. Ms. Mildred came out and tried to help me and Ty, but Mr. Porter punched her and started kicking Ty.”
“I have never heard so manyniggersandsom’bitchesfrom one person’s mouth in all my days of living in Shrouded Lake,” Ms. Maitland said behind Santiago.
She’d been a young teacher when he was in middle school here, now she was in her early sixties and the only black principal in all of Olympus County. Her bottom lip was busted, and her right eye would likely be swollen shut tomorrow.
“Put your bikes in the back of my cruiser, Yesenia. Call your parents and tell them we’ll meet them at Grace Baptist Hospital.”
She rolled both bikes to his vehicle. “Call ya daddy now,” he heard her say as she walked past the Porter kids.
“Maybe your intervention will stop Butch and Lou from retaliating,” Jessie said.
Santiago dragged a weary hand over his face. “Lord, we don’t need one more thing.”
“It’s like the winds of change have been scorching through this town for the last few weeks,” Ms. Maitland said. “Arriving on the heels of your new neighbor, or should I say…love interest?”
Seems like a busted lip wasn’t going to stop her from laughing at him.
“You better get to the hospital and get that arm attended to,” Roan suggested.
Frowning, Santiago looked at his forearm. Blood ran from the ribbons of skin peeled from his flesh.
“You don’t want it to get infected; me and Jessie will finish up here.”
Outside Ty’s hospital room, Santiago explained to the kids’ parents everything that took place at the middle school. He had the fortune of being there when the hospital staff rolled Garland Porter past them. He was able to pull Butch away so he could be here for his son instead of in one of the cells that were quickly filling within the station.
“Thank you, Sheriff, for what you did for my kids,” Butch said. He was the oldest of Lou’s children and helped run their barbeque business. “Anything you want for the next month is on the house. Daddy’s expecting you to come by on your way home. Got a special just for you and that extra mouth I hear your feeding.”
Now that he knew there wouldn’t be a brawl in the hospital, he turned to leave.
“Oh no you don’t,” Nurse Allen said, stopping him. “Roan said that if your arm doesn’t get tended to this evening, my car wouldn’t remember what is was like to go unticketed.” Because she had a habit of staying beyond her metered time.
“I’ll be quick.” She guided him to one of the empty rooms. “Because I hear you finally got someone waiting at home for you.”
Home. After this day, all he wanted was to swim, eat, and sleep.
When he drove up the private road to his home, it looked like every light in his house was on. The opposite of the blackness that usually greeted him.
Grabbing the bag of BBQ, he walked up the front porch stairs, the weight of the world seemed to multiply with each step.
The door swung open before he reached it. And there she was. Dressed in the same bed clothes she’d worn the night before. He shook his head at those ridiculous orange house shoes. She noticed and modeled her footwear before reaching for his hand and pulling him through his own home.
He placed the bag on the table and she grabbed plates, napkins, and utensils as if she’d lived there longer than him.
“I baked a cake for dessert,” she informed him. “Two cakes actually. I didn’t know which flavor you’d prefer. I was told a long time ago that preparing things based on what I liked was self-centered.”
Why didn’t he like the idea of someone telling her not to look out for herself? Not around something so insignificant. “Who told you that?”
“Ma Mable…my mother.”
