Chapter 8 #2
Hoping this wasn’t the lead-in to more lecturing about his behavior, Devon said, “I’d rather paint the fence.
” He’d hated painting, but at least it hadn’t been painful, and Zoey’s help made the chore go faster.
This time, she couldn’t make things go faster, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. “Everybody hates me.”
“Hate’s a pretty strong word. Disappointed might be a better one.”
He wished he could go back in time and change things.
“If you need anything just give me a yell, okay? I’ll be in my room working on the laptop. I’ll bring you lunch in a bit.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Alone, Devon thought back again on what he’d done.
At first, ridiculing Zoey about her reaction to Crystal moving away made him feel like a boss, just as it had in the past, but the moment the words left his lips, he’d wanted to call them back.
He knew how much Zoey loved Crystal, and had since the day they met, but for whatever reason that hadn’t mattered.
Was this more of his whole anointed, entitled, and always wanting to be the center of attention thing, as Amari kept pointing out?
The question was one he didn’t want to deal with; another part of the Wizard of Oz, man-behind-the-curtain inner conversation he’d had before.
Having to look at himself through that lens was difficult mainly because he didn’t really like who that person was.
Was it because he was getting older and now cared about how his actions impacted others when he never had to care before?
He didn’t know. He was just a kid. And all this thinking was making his eye throb and his head hurt, so he closed his uninjured eye and hoped he could sleep for a little while and forget about the mess he’d made.
He spent the rest of the day praying for the pain to go away and to not be bored to death. With his messed-up eye he couldn’t play video games or read to pass the time. His dad brought him lunch, but he didn’t have much of an appetite.
That afternoon, OG stopped by with his checkerboard. “How are you, buckaroo?”
“Not doing too good. Eye hurts.”
“Let me see.”
Devon slid the ice pack aside.
OG peered at it. “That’s pretty ugly.”
“Feels ugly too.”
“I brought the checkerboard hoping we could play in case you’re bored.”
“I can’t see good enough, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He eyed Devon for a moment before asking, “Parents still yelling at you?”
“No. At least not today, so far.”
“I know what that’s like. Got yelled at a lot in my life, too, as you probably already know.”
He did. OG had abused alcohol for many years and, more recently, had stolen a lot of money. Something he and Devon had in common.
“Deserved it, too, but we all screw up sometimes, so I’m not here to pile on, just to see how you are.”
Devon was thankful for that. “I think I may have to paint the fence when I can see again.”
He nodded understandingly. “Let’s not worry about that now. You concentrate on healing up. Did Doc Reg give you something for the pain?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“All right then, I’ll swing by in a few days to check on you. Feel better, young July, and this too shall pass.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on Devon’s forehead.
Tears welled up in Devon’s eyes in response to the kindness.
“See you soon.” And he was gone.
Devon wiped at his wet eyes. He was glad to have OG in his life.
That evening after dinner, there was a knock on his door. “Come in.” He was lying back against the bed pillows with a fresh ice bag over his eye.
It was Reverend Paula. “Hey, Dev,” she said softly.
“Hi, Reverend.”
She came in and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“My eye hurts a lot. Doc Reg said it’s going to be like this for a few more days.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you cope?”
“Maybe talk to God for me so I can feel better.”
“You can always do that yourself.”
“Everybody’s mad at me. God, too, probably.”
“God always loves us no matter what we’ve done.”
He didn’t feel very lovable. “I wish I hadn’t said that to Zoey.”
“Do you?”
“I do. The words just sort of came out before I could stop them, and then it was too late.”
“We all say things we regret, especially when we’re young.
Your body’s changing, your hormones don’t know if they’re coming or going, you’re trying to figure out who you are.
It makes us feel all jumbled up inside. It’s sort of normal, really, but admitting you were wrong means you’re growing up.
Looking back at a situation and holding yourself accountable instead of making excuses is a good thing. ”
He hadn’t thought about it in that way. “You think so?”
She nodded. “I know so. Have you spoken to Zoey?”
“I tried. Mom and Dad made me go over and apologize, but she cussed at me and said she’s never talking to me again.”
“Maybe once the dust settles and you apologize from your heart—not because your parents made you—things may change. Forgiveness is a choice, as is kindness. The Zoey we know is capable of both.”
A part of him wanted to believe that. Another part was sure they’d never be friends again.
“I know your eye is hurting, so I’ll let you go back to resting. If you need me for anything, just send me a text or FaceTime me. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for visiting me, Reverend Paula.”
“You’re welcome. How about we share a prayer before I go?”
“I’d like that.”
She took Devon’s hand and recited a short prayer asking God to look after his healing, to continue to guide his growth, and that the rift between him and Zoey be repaired. When she was done, they both said amen.
After her exit, Devon’s eye still hurt, but his spirit felt a lot better. Maybe God wasn’t so mad at him, after all.
Over the next couple of days, the swelling and discomfort diminished to the point where he could at least sleep through the night and, to his delight, resume wearing his wig.
He was also able to work on the school assignments Ms. Nori dropped off, though she had made him promise not to do too much.
He half expected or hoped that Lucas, Wyatt, and Alfonso would come see him, but they didn’t.
The Supremes didn’t, either, and Devon was left feeling abandoned and forlorn.
By day five, the swelling was all but gone, even though the skin surrounding the eye was still ringed with shades of purple and dark blue. Doc Reg said he could return to school on Monday if he felt up to it, but to be careful if he rode his bike.
After Doc Reg left and Devon was happily checking out his eye in the mirror, he was startled to see Tamar reflected in the doorway behind him.
His injured eye protested being opened so wide.
This was his first time seeing her since he wrecked the Welcome Circle ceremony.
He turned and faced her, shaken, and shaking inside.
She asked, “May I come in?”
“Yes ma’am.” He couldn’t tell her mood. He assumed she was still upset at him, however.
“Your eye’s better?”
He watched her glance over at his wig for a long moment. “Yes. Doc Reg said I can go back to school on Monday.”
“Good to hear. I stopped by to see how you were, and to let you know a couple of things.”
“Like what?”
“At the next town meeting I expect you to stand up and apologize to everyone for ruining the ceremony.”
“But Mom and Dad are making me write apologies to you and all the people we celebrated, and the notes have to be handwritten—not done on the laptop.”
“I’d appreciate your note, and I’m sure the others will, too, but that’s your parents’ requirement. I have my own. Doing what you did to Zoey should never have happened in the first place.”
He wondered if the lectures and punishments would ever stop. “I know. Anything else?”
“I’m putting off your Spirit Quest for now.”
He was stricken. “Why?”
“You aren’t mature enough, Devon. At least, not yet, and you proved that Friday night.”
“But I tried to apologize to Zoey.” He looked up into her eyes. “Please, Tamar. I really want to do my quest.”
“Because Amari did his?”
“No.”
“Then, why?”
“It’s hard to explain, but it’ll make me a real July, and not one who’s adopted.”
She didn’t respond at first, so he was unsure if he’d said the right thing or not.
When she did reply, her voice and eyes were kind. “Whether you’re adopted or not, you’re still a full-fledged, real July, Devon.”
“But I won’t feel like one, not inside. Please, Tamar. Let me do my quest. Please?”
“To have a successful quest you need to be your authentic self, no artifice. Do you know what that means?”
He shook his head.
“Get your phone.” She spelled the word for him, and while he typed in the letters, he wondered why everything was always a lesson with her.
“What’s it say?”
“There’re two definitions. One means proficient skill like a good craftsman. The other means trickery, scamming, or duplicitous.”
“Which one do you think I’m talking about?”
“The second one?”
She nodded. “So, for your quest, you need to be who you are at your core. No hiding behind anything. The real Devon needs to show up. Do you think you can do that?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Okay, if you can go without wearing that wig for ten days, we’ll do your quest.”
His eyes widened, and he screamed internally. NO!
She watched him before asking, “Yes? No?”
He was too stunned to speak. Talk about trickery.
“If it takes you this long to decide, you aren’t ready. We’ll talk about your quest after your next birthday.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m ready now. I can go without my wig.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. When do I start?”
“Tomorrow morning. When you get up.”
His knees went so weak, he thought he might faint. “Okay.”
“Do I need to say, no cheating?”
“No ma’am.”
She smiled. “Good. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Glad your eye is better.”
“Thank you.”
He watched her go. His eye was better, but the rest of him wanted to cry.
ON HER DRIVE home, Tamar smiled.