“It may. I see your security sticker. Make sure you turn your system on, okay?”
“I try to remember,” Ari said, knowing that she wasn’t always vigilant about it. Officer Baker got in his car and drove off while Ari stared at the mess her car had become. The scratches were ugly, but the two flat tires made it un-drivable. She walked back into the house to call a tow truck.
***
Since Oliver worked all day in his office—and could hitch a ride home with Veronica—Ari dropped him off downtown on her way to Curtis’ house while her car was at the shop. Mr. Davis had given her a list of items Curtis would need while in the program, and she thought she’d try his house. Luckily, the program had some basic supplies he could borrow until she got back with his personal items.
Ms. Wilson lived in a housing project near the stadium. The century-old houses lining her street sat in varied states of neglect. Curtis’ mother’s home was no exception, although there seemed to be some attempt at keeping the yard and porch clean. Ari parked Oliver’s SUV on the street and locked the doors. She’d come early on purpose, the time of day when drug dealers and car thieves slept. Even though there was a false sense of peacefulness about the neighborhood, the numbness that Ari struggled with returned slowly. She frowned in disgust over the plastic drug baggies that littered the streets. Smashed beer bottles. All signals that every effort she made for these kids had been futile.
No one answered Ari’s knock, so she tried twice more, even pulling on the screen door to see if it was also locked. Curtis had no phone number listed in his file. Tucking her card into the wire mesh door, Ari stepped off the porch. Halfway down the walk, she heard the locks slide and the door slowly open. Curtis’ mother stood inside, obscured by the dark screen door. Ari had expected his grandmother who was listed in his file as his primary caregiver.
“Ms. Wilson?”
“Yes? Who are you?”
“Ari Grant. I’m Curtis’ caseworker. We’ve met before. Is Curtis’ grandmother here?”
“Curtis. When’s he coming home?” she asked. Her voice sounded like gravel, thick and deep.
Ari noted that Ms. Wilson didn’t invite her in. She took a deep breath and explained, “During his hearing, Judge Hatcher recommended a residential placement.”
“How can she do that without my permission?”
“Ms. Wilson, the court sent a notice to Curtis’ grandmother in the mail about his hearing date.”
“We didn’t get no notice.”
“Well, he had one. The good news, though, is that his placement is in town and it’s at a really good program. I think he has a chance of graduating from it successfully.”
She squinted her eyes at Ari and Ari wondered if she was on drugs or hungover.
“What kind of program is this?” Ms. Wilson asked.
“He’ll live there and go to a local school. They have counseling services and a strong focus on athletics.”
“Sports?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He’s always been good at sports. Probably get a basketball scholarship. Everyone says so.”
Ari had no idea who “everyone” was. She simply said, “Good. Then this may be the best place for him.”
Ms. Wilson stared at Ari with suspicious eyes. “What do you need from me?”
“I came by to see if Curtis has any clothes or personal items I can take to him. Is there anything here?”
Ms. Wilson finally slid the latch on the other side of the door. “You can check his room.”
She followed the woman through the cluttered house. Past cheap furniture and a blaring television. A hole in the wall and the spider-webbed lines of the cracked ceiling revealed how desperately the house needed repair. From reading Curtis’ file, Ari knew his mother didn’t work and that she lived off government assistance. His father had been in jail since Curtis was a toddler, up until his death just before Curtis’ 10th birthday. The odds stacked against Curtis Wilson finding success in this world seemed insurmountable.
“Check his drawers if you want. Or the closet. There’s not much, but I haven’t been in here since he left.”
Ari watched as his mother walked away, probably back to the living room, leaving Ari alone in the room.
Overall, Curtis kept his room tidier than she would expect for a teenage boy. His mattress sat on the floor with no frame. Surprisingly, a couple of books sat stacked neatly on the floor. She noticed library stickers on the back and put them in her bag, figuring no one else would return them. Several trophies sat on the top of his dresser and ribbons were tacked onto the walls. Ari leaned closer to read the lettering. Academic, football, math …
Although they were several years old, it became obvious that Curtis was more than a gifted athlete—he had a brain, too.