Read Online Those Bones Are Not My Child by Toni Cade Bambara - Free Book Online
Authors: Toni Cade Bambara
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leg and put his foot on the water meter. Kenti looked up when the metal plate clinked.
“The streetlights’ll be on in a minute,” she said.
“So what?”
Kenti stopped fanning. “Then she’ll make us go to bed, stupid.”
“You got soap on your neck. There’s some in your hair too. You’re going to have dandruff.”
Kenti cut Kofi off. “Everybody’s looking at us.”
“I got eyes.”
He had spotted Aunt Paulette’s boarder watching through binoculars from his room on the third floor. The window was empty now, but the shade pull was swinging. A big moth was plastered up against the boarder’s screen. There were moths and dark bugs flitting around the streetlight too, and it wasn’t even on yet. He saw a dragonfly nosedive into the bed of crispy brown petals on the Robinson walk. Mean Dog was looking across the street at everybody, panting with his tongue hanging out to one side.
“You don’t think he might have gone for a swim, Mrs. Spencer, when he couldn’t locate the campgrounds?” The Black cop took the flashlight away from his partner and shoved it into one of the loops in his belt. Then he leaned down on the leg resting on the water meter. Kofi looked at the bulge in the holster. And when the cop turned, hopping a little on one foot to do it, Kofi could see the handcuffs. The sight of them made his mouth taste funny, like drinking milk from a tin cup.
The cops hadn’t come in the house to search up in the eaves or down in the basement, like they had. “Before I start making phone calls, let’s look,” she had said, when what she really meant was, “Before you go across the street and have a good time, let’s work.” The police didn’t knock next door to question the Griers. They just took her word that Sonny was not on the premises and not with a neighbor or friend.
Kofi took a good look at the handcuffs. He slipped his wrist in the lock of two fingers. Those handcuffs couldn’t hold a boy or a small woman or even a man if he was skinny.
The Black cop made the water meter clank again. The brass in Kofi’s mouth was worse. He could’ve told them a few things. Like how Sonny took Mama’s stitch ripper on his way out, like he was going off to have a fight with somebody. Kofi wasn’t trying to hide it. He wasn’t saving it to tell at a special time, either. He just forgot. And if he told now, he’d get yelled at. She’d been yelling so hard in the basement, Mr. Grier had to come down the cellar steps to see. The basement was spooky, like a mine that people had quit digging at once they foundgold. She kept saying she’d dreamt about the basement. So she made them look around.
Kenti yanked on Kofi’s pants leg. But he didn’t see why until the car rolled over second base and the manhole cover rattled. The car was coming slowly down the middle of Thurmond Street. A big dark-green Buick. It looked like one of the cars their Uncle Bryant loaned Dad sometimes to show people houses. The driver slid the windows down and stuck his elbow out, then his head.
“Not Daddy,” Kenti said.
She sat back down. That close to the house, Daddy would whistle. A woman leaned across the man to get a good look when the car slowed up. She was holding flowers done up in plastic like they do for running down the aisle at a concert.
“So nosy. And that funny-looking baby too.”
In the backseat, a baby sat in what looked like a high chair to Kofi, feeding herself. She banged on the tray. She tipped over her bowl. She smeared food all over her clothes and clapped her hands. Then she tried very hard to pick up something to eat from the tray. Her fingers were fat. The spaghetti sauce slippery. It wore Kofi out to watch her keep trying.
“Stupid child,” Kenti said.
“She’s just a baby, Kenti.”
“A fat ole nosy baby.”
“Who’s talking?”
Kenti tossed her head and swung the towel like hair. Then she crossed her leg high and fanned herself. When the car picked up speed and the baby
“The streetlights’ll be on in a minute,” she said.
“So what?”
Kenti stopped fanning. “Then she’ll make us go to bed, stupid.”
“You got soap on your neck. There’s some in your hair too. You’re going to have dandruff.”
Kenti cut Kofi off. “Everybody’s looking at us.”
“I got eyes.”
He had spotted Aunt Paulette’s boarder watching through binoculars from his room on the third floor. The window was empty now, but the shade pull was swinging. A big moth was plastered up against the boarder’s screen. There were moths and dark bugs flitting around the streetlight too, and it wasn’t even on yet. He saw a dragonfly nosedive into the bed of crispy brown petals on the Robinson walk. Mean Dog was looking across the street at everybody, panting with his tongue hanging out to one side.
“You don’t think he might have gone for a swim, Mrs. Spencer, when he couldn’t locate the campgrounds?” The Black cop took the flashlight away from his partner and shoved it into one of the loops in his belt. Then he leaned down on the leg resting on the water meter. Kofi looked at the bulge in the holster. And when the cop turned, hopping a little on one foot to do it, Kofi could see the handcuffs. The sight of them made his mouth taste funny, like drinking milk from a tin cup.
The cops hadn’t come in the house to search up in the eaves or down in the basement, like they had. “Before I start making phone calls, let’s look,” she had said, when what she really meant was, “Before you go across the street and have a good time, let’s work.” The police didn’t knock next door to question the Griers. They just took her word that Sonny was not on the premises and not with a neighbor or friend.
Kofi took a good look at the handcuffs. He slipped his wrist in the lock of two fingers. Those handcuffs couldn’t hold a boy or a small woman or even a man if he was skinny.
The Black cop made the water meter clank again. The brass in Kofi’s mouth was worse. He could’ve told them a few things. Like how Sonny took Mama’s stitch ripper on his way out, like he was going off to have a fight with somebody. Kofi wasn’t trying to hide it. He wasn’t saving it to tell at a special time, either. He just forgot. And if he told now, he’d get yelled at. She’d been yelling so hard in the basement, Mr. Grier had to come down the cellar steps to see. The basement was spooky, like a mine that people had quit digging at once they foundgold. She kept saying she’d dreamt about the basement. So she made them look around.
Kenti yanked on Kofi’s pants leg. But he didn’t see why until the car rolled over second base and the manhole cover rattled. The car was coming slowly down the middle of Thurmond Street. A big dark-green Buick. It looked like one of the cars their Uncle Bryant loaned Dad sometimes to show people houses. The driver slid the windows down and stuck his elbow out, then his head.
“Not Daddy,” Kenti said.
She sat back down. That close to the house, Daddy would whistle. A woman leaned across the man to get a good look when the car slowed up. She was holding flowers done up in plastic like they do for running down the aisle at a concert.
“So nosy. And that funny-looking baby too.”
In the backseat, a baby sat in what looked like a high chair to Kofi, feeding herself. She banged on the tray. She tipped over her bowl. She smeared food all over her clothes and clapped her hands. Then she tried very hard to pick up something to eat from the tray. Her fingers were fat. The spaghetti sauce slippery. It wore Kofi out to watch her keep trying.
“Stupid child,” Kenti said.
“She’s just a baby, Kenti.”
“A fat ole nosy baby.”
“Who’s talking?”
Kenti tossed her head and swung the towel like hair. Then she crossed her leg high and fanned herself. When the car picked up speed and the baby
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