Becca’s eyes lit up. “Like Beauty and the Beast!”
Taylor grimaced. “I guess,” she said, and just then it occurred to me that we were all leaning in, analyzing Frida’s and Diego’s faces, looking through the pictures, discussing something . . . interesting. Sure, it was about their crazy love story, but still. It was a start. And if it weren’t for the piercing sound of the fire alarm suddenly going off, we might’ve been able to get to some of the other cool things about Frida Kahlo, but at least we decided whose house we would go over to do the “go over somebody’s house” portion of the project. Becca’s. Taylor and TeeTee basically begged Becca to host it at her place, which I guess made sense because it was right across the street from the school. Becca said the best day to do it at her house would be the next day, Wednesday, because her grandmother was making cookies, which T-N-T said was perfect because Thursday was Taylor’s mother’s birthday, and Friday . . . was Friday. I told them I could do it, but I’d have to come by after track practice, and if it wasn’t for the alarm suddenly screaming over us, maybe, just maybe, they would’ve asked about my running. But I guess fire drills are important too.
At least they are to six-year-olds.
Specifically six-year-olds named Madison Jones.
“But just in case there is a real fire, it’s good we practice, right?” Maddy went on and on in the car after school. From the moment I met her in the hallway she’d been blabbing, so excited about the hustle and bustle she’d experienced earlier in the day. Fire drill, fire drill, fire drill. It’s like that was the only thing that happened in the north wing of Chester.
“I think we should also maybe practice stop, drop, and roll with Mrs. S,” Maddy barreled on, rolling her hands in the air. “Just in case somebody don’t make it out in time, especially since she make us all walk so slow. I don’t know about everybody else, but if there’s a for-real fire, I’m outta there.”
Momly snorted.
“But what about me?” I asked.
Maddy thought about it for a second. “Patty, I can lift you up, but I don’t think I can lift you and run.”
“Not yet,” I replied, sliding one arm out of my shirtsleeve.
“Right. Not yet.” Maddy flexed one of her arms, squeezed her bicep.
The ride to MLK Park was the one thing that got Maddy to stop yakking about fire drills . . . for some reason she still geeked out at the fancy houses we passed on the way, especially the big white ones, their wooden castle doors with knobs like golden fists. The fountains and wraparound driveways. The windows—no curtains, like they want everybody to know what they got. But can’t nobody really see nothing anyway, because of the gates, the tops of the metal posts curling up into the air like witch fingers. And in front of the gates, shrubs. And then the mailbox, with the address, which is always just one or two numbers. Like 6 Chester Ave. Or 13 Chester Place. And as we moved through town, the numbers continued to climb as the neighborhoods changed. From mansions to weird cereal-box communities, where every house looks like a different version of the one next to it. Then on to older neighborhoods like mine, where the houses are still nice, but have been around for a while, so still made of brick. My address has three numbers. 685 Wallery Street. But Ma’s address, over in Barnaby Terrace, has four—5014. And I think Ghost’s is something like five or six. It’s like the less numbers in your bank account, the more numbers in your address.
Practice was a little less silly today. Well, it got less silly after warm-up laps, stretching, and the usual clowning around. Well, Lu was clowning Curron.
“Yo, Curron, how come yesterday Coach ain’t make y’all do that dancing thing Patty and Krystal did?” he asked, winding up and tossing a live grenade into the mix. He had one of his legs pulled back behind him, doing a final stretch.
“You mean what he made you and Ghost do?” Curron jabbed. “Because we don’t need all that on the boys’ relay,” Curron bragged, cutting his eyes at Brit-Brat.
“Oh, y’all don’t?” That was Krystal’s cue to jump in. Brit-Brat didn’t pay it no mind, and neither did I, because Curron was always trying us. Deja bucked a little, but Krystal beat her to it. “You do know that you can’t keep taking off early in a relay race, right? If you jump the gun more than once, y’all shot . . . is shot.” Krystal laser-eyed Curron. “And everybody know you a gun-jumpin’ fool.” We all laughed. Everyone but Sunny, who was chillin’, trapping his laughter in his face, as usual, so nobody knew what he was really thinking. Krystal moved closer, put her hand on Curron’s shoulder like a concerned parent. “Seriously, is there gonna be one race where you don’t false start?”
Everybody laughed again, but Curron didn’t find it funny at all.
“Seriously, Krystal No-Speed, is there gonna be one day that your breath don’t smell like boiling track shoes?” Curron slapped a hand over his nose. He zinged her with that one, and even though it was super petty, all of us were yikes-ing from the blowback. Then he turned to Ghost. “And I know you ain’t laughin’, Ghost. Maybe you need more practice with your dance partner, because you ran the whole race before you realized nobody was running with you. The. Whole. Race.”
Ouch. I can’t front, just thinking of Lu and Ghost holding each other like that made me want to burst into laughter. But I held it in. But not everyone did, the loudest coming from Aaron, Freddie, and Mikey, who all began fake-waltzing.
“Whatever! It was his first race! His . . . first . . . race!” Lu came to Ghost’s defense. And I was right there for the follow-up.
“Ever,” I dropped in to drive home the point.
“Nah, it’s cool,” Ghost said, calling off his newbie goons. “How ’bout this, Curron. How ’bout you pick the distance, and we line up and—”
“Okay, okay, knuckleheads,” Coach cut him off, sauntering over, swinging his stopwatch. “Let’s get done with the funnin’ so we can get down with the runnin’. I swear if you all could move your legs as fast as you move your lips, we wouldn’t even have to practice.” Time for Coach’s daily pep talk.