Mamba Point Read online

  “I’ve got wheels,” I told her.

  “Great. Do you know where the car wash is?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Let’s meet there.”

  “Okay. See you in like five seconds.” I hung up.

  I was starting to like this continent. I didn’t even care if Eileen had a boyfriend. Was he skating with her? No, I was. Like the song said, I could get it if I really wanted, and all I had to do was try, try, and try.

  I got to the car wash first. I saw Charlie, but only had a second to speak to him.

  “I think I have that kaseng thing,” I whispered.

  “It’s a folktale,” he said, looking sideways to see if anyone was paying attention to us. “You have a mamba?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you find it?”

  “It kind of found me.”

  “Someone’s here.”

  He looked away, moving a few things around on the rug. I looked at the statues, and noticed for the first time that some of them were of naked people with exaggerated body parts. I gulped and moved over to look at the masks.

  “Buying something?” I heard Eileen ask behind me.

  I turned around. She looked really cute, wearing white boot skates with pink laces and wheels. For about two seconds I felt like I owned the world. Then a curly-haired guy came up behind her. He was older than me by a year or two, and had cool skates that looked like Adidas basketball shoes with wheels attached. I guessed he was the boyfriend Matt told me about.

  “Hey, nice disco skates,” Eileen said.

  “I know. Um, they’re Matt Miller’s.” I didn’t want her thinking they were my taste.

  “You’re friends with Matt?” There was something funny in her voice. Not You know Matt? He’s awesome! but more like Ew, you’re friends with Matt? Maybe not that, either, but there was something funny in her voice. What was surprising about being friends with Matt?

  “His dad and my dad are old war buddies. Besides, he lives in my building. Why?”

  “Just that nobody knows Matt,” she explained. “He barely goes outside, and he doesn’t talk to anyone. He never goes to parties or anything. I don’t think he’s ever said one word to me.” Then Matt’s crazy, I thought.

  “He’s all right. He’s just …” I didn’t know what he just was, though. “He’s shy, I guess.”

  Her boyfriend reached us, skating awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Bennett.” He offered a hand to snap-shake but started to roll and had to pinwheel his arms to keep his balance.

  “I’m Linus.”

  “Like with the blanket, right?”

  “Like with the disco skates,” I corrected him. He gave me a little “gotcha” gesture with his finger.

  “I asked Bennett if he had skates in case you needed them,” Eileen explained. “He did but you didn’t, so I asked him if he wanted to come with us and he did.”

  “No problem,” I lied.

  We skated slowly back toward the embassy. Bennett, walking more than rolling, looked awkward but managed to stay on his feet. “I haven’t had much practice,” he said. “Especially not on the street.”

  At least I could outskate him, I realized gleefully. I chanced a one-eighty and skated backward a bit. I’d learned how at the skating rink back in Dayton. I managed to do it without killing myself.

  “Show off,” Eileen said, but I could tell she was at least a little impressed. So I did it a couple more times, rolling forward, then spinning backward and putting on the stops. I wished I knew more tricks, but that was all I had.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” I saw we were at the intersection of UN Drive and Fairground Road, where the library was. “Where does this street go? Is there really a fairground?”

  “Maybe, but it goes through downtown Mamba Point first. There’ll be lots of traffic.”

  “Sounds cool to me,” I said. I suddenly felt bold. I wanted to impress Eileen.

  “I don’t know,” said Bennett. “Seems kind of, uh, treacherous.”

  The old Linus wouldn’t have skated down that road in a million years, but I pushed off the stop and headed down Fairground Road. The road was choppy. I stayed near the curb, trying to roll slowly while Eileen and Bennett caught up. She stumbled, but Bennett rolled over and offered an arm. She grabbed at it, and they both nearly went sprawling out on the blacktop.

  “It’s not the best skating road,” she said.

  “It’s not that bad,” I argued. I halfway hoped they would want to turn back, but I wasn’t about to suggest it myself. We’d been going up a slight hill, and now hit the top of it. The other side was a lot steeper and a lot busier as the shacks and shanties gave way to shops and the side streets spilled out onto Fairground Road. A taxi beeped up a storm as it passed, either warning us to get out of the way or egging us on.

  “Want to race?” I asked Bennett.

  “I’m not sure I want to go down that hill.”

  “One, two, three, GO!” I said, kicking off the toe stop and letting myself fly downhill. I sidestepped litter and pedestrians and felt the wind of cars whooshing past me. So this is what being reckless was like, not being a ’fraidy-cat. It was scary but fun.

  There was a light at the bottom of the hill, and I had to roll against the curb to brake. Using the toe stop while speeding downhill would have sent me somersaulting into the street. I heard the wheels grind against the curb. Matt would be mad if he noticed the wheels were messed up. I had to grab the edge of a fruit stand so I didn’t fall.

  “You can’t skate, oh,” a woman said, laughing and gently slapping the back of my hand.

  “I can skate fine. I just can’t stop.”

  She howled with laughter and turned to a friend to repeat it. I looked back up the hill. Eileen and Bennett were barely visible, but they were waving and shouting at me. I started back up and realized there was no way I could skate up that hill. They’d already figured that out, which is probably why they were waving and shouting at me. They weren’t following me down.

  I’d have to take off the skates and hike up. I wondered if two layers of socks was enough to protect my feet from the hookworms, which supposedly were everywhere and would bore right up into the soles of your feet and lay a million eggs in your body if you weren’t careful. The doctor had warned us about them when we’d gone in for our shots. We weren’t supposed to ever go barefoot. Mom didn’t even want us wearing sandals without socks, so we had to settle for looking dumb.

  It’s the kind of thing the old Linus would worry about, but the old Linus was a lot more sensible. He didn’t do stupid stuff to show off for a girl and get trapped at the bottom of a huge hill.

  “Linus! My friend!” a Liberian-accented voice shouted. I was startled that anyone here would know my name until I saw Gambeh running after me. Tokie trailed behind him, trying to catch up.

  “You roll down the hill but can’t roll up,” he guessed, laughing.

  “Yeah.” It was kind of funny, but I didn’t feel like laughing just yet.

  Gambeh pointed at a sign and then waved dramatically to the right. “This way. This takes you back to the beach; you go right and go home.” Tokie caught up and nodded in agreement, even though he didn’t have any idea what Gambeh had just told me.

  I made a mental map and understood: We’d turned down Fairground Road after UN Drive took the big turn, which meant Fairground Road was parallel to the part of the road I lived on. UN Drive went along the beach and didn’t have the same big hill in the middle of it, so I could cut over and go home. I’d skate around the hill.

  “Thanks!”

  “I can show you home, then you give me a present,” he suggested.

  “I think I know the way.”

  “I’ll show you.” He ran on ahead, and we lost him in the crowd.

  Tokie grabbed my hand and towed me after Gambeh. “This way,” he said, yanking me along. I might have known the way, but I was glad to have him steer me aroun
d market stands and pedestrians. Some of them laughed at the sight of us rumbling down the street like a horse and carriage.

  Once we were clear of the market, I pulled my hand back and skated by myself, going slowly so Tokie could keep up. As I had guessed, going right on Randall Street took us back to UN Drive. I stayed close to the curb to avoid traffic, stepping over rocks and litter in the gutter. We passed a row of run-down shacks. I wondered if Gambeh and Tokie lived in one of those shanties, and hoped they didn’t.

  “Where’s Gambeh?” Tokie asked in a panic, turning this way and that. “What happened to my brother?”

  “He can’t be far,” I told him. “He’s probably just up the road—”

  “We have to go find him!” Tokie interrupted, grabbing my hand and pulling me back toward downtown Mamba Point. “We lost him!”

  “No, I, um …” I really wanted to take off the skates and put on shoes before I joined a search party. “Let me look for him down this road,” I suggested. At least, I’d be going in the right direction, and I was sure Gambeh had gone that way.

  “No, no, we have to find him!” Tokie yelled. He kept yanking on my arm, grabbing my shoulder with his other hand and nearly knocking me over. It was crazy how much that kid missed his brother. Law could be gone a month and I wouldn’t be that upset about it.

  I shook off Tokie without getting yanked to the pavement but noticed a second later that my mamba friend was slithering out from behind a couple of overflowing garbage cans. It came right at us, its head about two feet off the ground. I’d read in the Roger Farrell book that mambas could do that, lift their heads up even while cruising along. “The mamba can lift one-third of its length while moving,” the book said, “and spring to a height of half its length, meeting grown men eye to eye.” It was probably just one more mamba fun-fact when you’re in some college building writing a book, but really scary to see for yourself.

  “No!” I shouted. I didn’t think the snake would hurt me, but what about Tokie? Maybe the mamba thought he was trying to hurt me and was coming to the rescue?

  “Jump on my back!” I shouted at Tokie. I did my half spin again, and he leapt on my back, making me wobble a bit. I got my balance and hurried on, still staying close to the curb. Tokie clutched my neck, so tightly I could barely breathe.

  “Loosen up!” I shouted, or tried to shout while being choked. He must have understood because he loosened his grip.

  There was no big hill on UN Drive, but there was an incline that slowed me down. I skated as fast as I could, jumping from foot to foot to get over garbage and potholes as I went uphill. I looked down and saw the snake slithering over on the left, nearly getting tangled in my wheels. It reached up and bumped my shin with its head. The road leveled off, then went down. I was able to go faster by bending my knees and letting gravity do its thing. The snake disappeared.

  We found Gambeh in front of my building, jumping up and down and whooping. He turned and followed us as we passed, still hollering and hooting.

  What if the snake bit him? Was it still following us?

  I was really bad at stopping on skates. At the rink I always slowed down and grabbed the wall, and when I skated on the sidewalk, I stepped off onto the grass. This time I had to do it the right way, dragging the stop on my left skate. I stumbled and fell forward, Tokie somersaulting over me and crashing to the street.

  I rolled over and looked behind us. I didn’t see the snake. Just Gambeh jumping up and down. “My turn!” he shouted. “I want a ride, too!”

  Eileen and Bennett rolled toward us from the other direction.

  “Are you all right?” Eileen shouted.

  I looked at myself. I’d scraped up my knees and palms, but I’d had worse falls.

  “Nothing a little Bactine won’t fix,” I said, but I realized she was talking to Tokie. She helped him up and made a fuss over him while I tried to stand. It was tricky in roller skates. Gambeh helped me.

  “I don’t think that stunt went the way you planned,” said Bennett.

  “Uh, there was a …” I looked back down the street and couldn’t see anything. “There was a snake,” I said weakly.

  Gambeh laughed. “You said that before. We won’t fall for the same trick again.”

  “It’s not a trick. I just saw a snake.” I looked to Tokie for confirmation, but he looked back at me blankly, then grinned like he got the joke.

  “There was no snake!”

  “You didn’t even see it?”

  He shook his head dramatically and turned back to Eileen. “Linus, he says all the time, look out for the snake! He scares me bad.”

  “I think I am going to go home,” Eileen said. She skated in a little circle to get herself turned around. “See you, Linus.”

  “Yeah, see you,” Bennett added, rolling after her.

  “Guess I’ll head home, too,” I told Gambeh and Tokie as I wobbled back to the building. “Thanks for showing me the way home. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “I want to ride, too!” Gambeh shouted after me.

  “Maybe later.” Maybe never, that was. I wanted to get the skates off my feet as soon as possible and probably never skate again.

  CHAPTER 9

  I nursed my aches and pains all afternoon, reading the book about how to draw and munching on gummi bears I’d been saving for a special occasion. Some of the examples in the book were really good. Nothing fancy, just good. Pictures of dogs and houses and things. I wondered if I could get that good, and fill up my notebook with pictures like that to show Eileen. Would she still love to see my drawings sometime, like she said? I imagined presenting her with something amazing.

  My hands hurt too much from the fall to draw, though, so I went to play Pac-Man.

  There was a timid knock on our door just before dinner. Gambeh and Tokie followed Mom into the dining room a moment later.

  “These kids say they’re friends of yours?”

  Gambeh offered me a hopeful smile.

  “Oh, yeah, I know them. They play in the courtyard sometimes.”

  “Our father is the guard,” Tokie explained.

  “He’s one of the guards,” Gambeh corrected him. I wondered if their dad was the reggae guy. If so, he was probably a cool dad.

  “So, invite them to dinner,” Mom whispered. “We should have plenty. Law’s having dinner at a friend’s, and your father’s at an embassy event.” The way she said it, I guessed she wasn’t too happy about either of those things.

  “Do you guys want to stay for supper?” I asked.

  “Yes, please,” Tokie said with a big grin, but Gambeh looked down at his shoes. They’d shown up just in time for dinner on purpose. Well, what of it? If I was hungry, I’d do the same thing.

  By the time we sat down, Mom had already ladled chili into our bowls and torn open a box of crackers. Gambeh and Tokie looked confused.

  “There is rice?” Tokie asked.

  “Shh.” Gambeh elbowed him.

  “I only ask where is the rice,” Tokie protested.

  “I told you,” Gambeh whispered. “These people don’t eat rice.”

  “Of course we eat rice,” Mom said. “Do you want some rice?”

  “Please, missy!” Tokie replied.

  “Chili on rice?” I said. Who ate that?

  “Lots of people have chili and rice,” Mom told me. “Besides, if you can put chili on spaghetti, why not on rice?” She had a point. At my favorite restaurant in Dayton you could get chili on spaghetti noodles with a pile of cheese and chopped onions. It sounded weird to me at first, but it was good.

  “We’re used to rice with supper,” Gambeh explained. “It seems like it’s not supper if there’s no rice.” So Mom left her chili to go make rice. Gambeh and Tokie sat patiently, waiting for her to get back. There was no point in everyone’s chili getting cold. I gobbled up my own, tossing in handfuls of crumbled saltines now and then.

  “It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Mom said, coming back from the kitchen.
She sat down and still ignored her chili, instead asking Gambeh and Tokie where they lived and how many brothers and sisters they had. They lived in an apartment above a store, they told her. There were six of them total. I was glad to hear they didn’t live in one of those tin shacks.

  Mom asked what grade they were in and they got kind of quiet.

  “I was in fifth grade,” Gambeh said at last. “Now we’re not in school.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “It’s summer.”

  “Our schools have the dry season off,” he explained. “We’re just not in school anymore.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Well, we’re sure glad you could join us for supper,” Mom said before they could answer, and I realized I shouldn’t have asked. School probably wasn’t free here. Kids had to pay, and that meant a lot of them couldn’t go. Mom went back to check on the rice.

  “I was in fifth grade,” Gambeh told me. “I can read and write.” I was glad Mom missed that, or she would have given me this big you-don’t-know-how-lucky-you-are look.

  She came back with little bowls of rice for everyone. Tokie took one bite and broke into a huge smile. Gambeh did the same. Both of them dug in, their forks going like lightning.

  I took a bite. No wonder the kids loved it: Mom had mixed in sweetened condensed milk and vanilla and some spices I couldn’t name. Nutmeg, maybe? It tasted more like dessert than dinner. I didn’t know if she had a recipe for it or just made it up on the spot, but it was delicious. I took some more.

  “My mama makes good rice, but your rice is good, too, missy!” Tokie said. He still hadn’t touched his chili, but he sure liked that rice.

  I was supposed to clear the table and wash the dishes, but Mom stood up when we were done eating and started collecting the bowls.

  “Why don’t you show your friends the game?” she suggested. I didn’t like her saying “your friends” so much. They were nice kids, but they were way younger than me and more like a charity case than buddies.

  “Sure,” I said. “You guys want to play Pac-Man?” I thought maybe they’d be impressed we had Pac-Man at home, but they looked puzzled. We went into the family room, and I showed them how to navigate the yellow hero through the maze.