almost men, but they weren’t men yet. They were still boys, and they needed supervision.
There was a frantic scrambling inside the room. Even before Marvia could get the door open the volume of the music dropped dramatically and she heard a window being opened. She stepped into the room and with her first breath recognized the familiar odor of cannabis.
Jamie was shoving something under the mattress of his bed and Hakeem was closing a dresser drawer.
Marvia shut the door behind her.
The two boys faced her. Their faces were identical studies in terror.
Marvia said nothing, waiting for one of them to make the first move.
It was Hakeem who made it, taking a tentative step toward the door. He realized that he couldn’t get past Marvia, and she was obviously not going to step aside. He turned around and looked out the window.
Marvia said, “Won’t do you any good.”
Hakeem stood still.
Jamie dropped his gaze. He murmured a few words.
Marvia said, “Speak up, young man. And look me in the eye when you speak to me.”
Jamie raised his eyes and said, “I guess we’re busted.”
Marvia nodded. “No guesses about it. You’d better take that out from under your mattress before you start a fire.”
Jamie bent over and lifted the edge of his mattress. He came back up with a makeshift ashtray, a soup bowl with a roach in a roach clip shaped like three intertwined human figures, and a disposable butane lighter.
Marvia nodded. She turned to Hakeem. “Your turn, Mr. White.”
He didn’t move.
“I said, it’s your turn, Mr. White.”
The boy trembled visibly as he pulled open a drawer in Jamie Wilkerson’s dresser. He turned back toward Marvia with a sick grin on his face. “See, nothing but socks.”
Marvia said, “Don’t shit me, boy!”
Hakeem turned away, opened another drawer, extracted something, and stood with his back to Marvia. For all she knew, he had an Uzi there. She shook her head. Neither cop school nor her army training had ever prepared her for this. “Come on.”
He turned back toward her and held up a cellophane bag. Under the ceiling light of Jamie’s room, Marvia could see the dark-green buds and the neat little package of rolling papers.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Plum. I never did this before.”
The music was still playing, faintly. It sounded like something coming from a million miles away. From Africa, or Mars, or Fairyland.
“It was my fault. I brought the stuff over. Jamie didn’t know anything about it.”
That much, she could admire.
“Jamie, is that true?”
He shook his head. She didn’t like the expression on his face but he said, “No, it isn’t. It’s my weed, I gave some to Hakeem. No way it’s his.”
At least they were both being men. Read, stand-up guys. The kind of gangsters who wouldn’t rat out a buddy to save their own necks.
“Jamie, how old are you?”
“Old enough.”
“Hakeem?”
“Me too.”
She pulled in air. “Don’t you boys know better than to do this? What’s the matter with you?”
Hakeem White looked away from Marvia. Jamie said, “You drank a brew at the table. Don’t deny it, Mom.”
“I didn’t break the law, Jamie. And that isn’t the issue. The issue is that you and your friend, did. All else aside, you put me in a very difficult position. I’m a sworn peace officer. I can’t just ignore this.”
“So write us a summons. Like a parking ticket. Big deal.”
They were all keeping their voices down, caught in a tacit bond. Nobody want to bring Gloria Plum into the room.
“That’s for adults, boy. You’ve got a long, long way to go before you’re an adult. How would you like a trip to Juvenile Hall?”
The boy stood hipshot, one fist on his offside hip, the other stuck in his jeans pocket.
Marvia inhaled and counted to five. “Where did you get the grass?”
The two boys looked at each other. Hakeem shook his head. Jamie said, “Someplace.”
“Where?”
Hakeem said, “Everybody has it at school. You can get it anyplace. Ho Chi Minh Park. Over by the baseball diamond. You know, where Blue Beetle and Acid Alice hang out.”
That was no surprise to Marvia. She said, “Hakeem, here’s your choice. You’ll tell your parents about this and they’ll phone me to discuss it. Will you do that?”
The boy looked as if he wanted to pull his head in between his shoulders like a turtle. He wore a dark green T-shirt and baggy jeans. He had a peace symbol carved into his hair. He shriveled before Marvia’s eyes and opened his mouth a couple of times but he didn’t say anything.
“Your other choice is, I’ll call them. Now, how about it?”
He hesitated, then said, “Okay. I’ll tell—does it matter which one?”
“Either or both. Take your pick. Now you get out of here. I want you to go straight home. No detours, no hanging out. If I don’t hear from your mom or dad in twenty-four hours, they’ll hear from me.”
Hakeem slunk out of the room. Marvia waited until she heard the front door of the house open and close.
Marvia looked at her son. Her heart was racing and she had trouble catching her breath.
Jamie said, “At least he has a mom and dad. At least they make a home for Hacker.”
Marvia closed her eyes and put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “Blue Beetle and Acid Alice. I don’t want you anywhere near those thugs. They belong in prison.” They were two of Berkeley’s counter-culture icons; they’d been suspected of dealing drugs but never arrested. “Have you tried those drugs? What drugs have you tried? I want the whole truth from you, right now.”
At least Jamie looked a little bit frightened. “Hack and me, we just shared a joint.”
“Nothing else?” She felt cold and she was trying not to shake.
He looked sheepish. “Couple of brews.”
Marvia let out her breath. “Don’t you have a DARE instructor at your school? I know you must, I saw
