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Chapter 2

Part 1

The rays from the morning sun pierced through the window. The clock on the nightstand sounded its alarm. A hand reached out from beneath the blanket to search out and silence the instrument responsible for disturbing his slumber, but he soon realized that the effort was in vain, for the misty clouds of sleep were now gone.

Charles folded down the blanket to expose his eyes to the morning sunlight. Cupping his hands behind his head, he continued to rest on the soft pillow. It was Friday morning, but not just any morning to him. This had been the day he had waited for in great anticipation—the day that his father, Charles Gill Sr.—would leave on a three-week business trip to Japan. Except for the maid, he would have the house to himself. Charles smiled as he thought about his father’s car. With dad gone, now I’ll finally have the ability to go wherever and whenever I want, he thought to himself. Doug was right. This is the boring city of Atherton. Nothing ever happens here.

His mind flashed back to the previous conversation between him and his friend, Doug. He began to laugh as he tried to imagine old Shirley Temple in a fisticuff over a crumpet at one of her little social gatherings. It had been a week since the Cassandra/Kenneth episode in East Palo Alto; and as far as he was concerned, he never wanted to see Cassandra ever again.

Now it was a matter of deciding what strategy to use to try and get the keys to his father’s Ferrari. Dad is no simpleton, he thought. He would definitely spot one of my schemes coming from a mile away.

Just at that moment, he heard three long beeps from a horn of a car. Looking out from his bedroom window, he could see a black limousine parked in front of the house, and he knew that it had come to take his father to the airport.

“That’s it!” He exclaimed. “The old rush-him-out-the-door-before-he-knows-what’s-going-on technique. I’ll run downstairs and rush my father into the limo. Just before I close the limo door, I’ll slightly mention that I’ll be using the car to go to school. I won’t mention the Ferrari directly, so he won’t know which of the three cars I am talking about and will not say no. When he comes back from his trip and finds out that I have been driving the Ferrari every day without putting one scratch on it, then maybe he will start trusting me to drive it more often.”

Charles jumped out of bed and hurried to put on his clothes, eager to put his plan into action.

Part 2

Hearing the last sound of the horn from the limousine, Maria Lopez, who had been a maid for the Gill family for the past three years, placed her employer’s last suitcase on the foyer.

“Señor Gill,” she said loudly, “your car has arrived.” She reached to open the door for the limousine driver.

Charles Gill Sr., a six-foot-tall athletically built black man, stepped onto the foyer, wearing an expensive tailored suit, which had been custom-made for him by an Italian designer from Milan. “Maria,” he asked, “have you seen my son?”

“Here I am, Dad,” Charles Jr. shouted as he jumped from the staircase down to the foyer. “The limo’s here. I heard the horn, Dad. I know that you have to leave.” Charles Jr. reached down and grabbed a suitcase with one hand and his father’s arm with the other hand. He attempted to rush them both out of the house as fast as he could.

To his surprise and disappointment his father would not budge. He refused to allow himself to be coerced out the door.

“Look, son,” said Charles Sr., “I am not in a hurry, and I am not running late. So you can forget this attempt of yours to try and rush me out of this house. I am going to be out of the country for at least three weeks. You might as well slow down because I’m going to set a few rules to make sure that you understand what I expect from you while I’m gone.

“First of all, I want it perfectly understood that Maria is in charge while I’m gone.”

“The maid?” Charles asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

“That’s right,” responded his father. “Maria is fully capable of taking care of things while I’m gone.”

“But, Dad, I’m old enough to take care of myself,” Charles protested. “It’s not like it’s the first time that you’ve gone out of town before.”

“It’s different this time, son,” replied Charles Senior. “I am not just going on an overnight business trip. I will be out of the country for at least three weeks. There is no way that I am going to leave a sixteen-year-old kid here to fend for himself without adult supervision.

“Besides, I’m really giving you the benefit of the doubt by trusting you to be here under Maria’s supervision alone. I could call your mother and have you stay with her while I am gone.”

“No!” The words blurted out of Charles’s mouth. “No, Dad, that won’t be necessary. I love Mom, but, whew, she’s too strict.”

“Well, see that you don’t make me regret that decision,” said his father.”

“I won’t dad,” he said. “Oh, Dad, what about—”

“Money?” replied Charles Sr. “I have arranged for my bank to transfer three hundred dollars into your savings account every Friday until I return. That should cover any recreational needs that may come up.

“Secondly, I don’t want you in my room going through any of my drawers trying to find and use my credit cards. I paid off the balance on your student Visa card. You should have approximately five hundred dollars available on it.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

“Not so fast, son. The Visa card is only to be used in the case of an emergency. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, I get you, Dad,” Charles said, “but what do you constitute as an emergency?”

“Nothing that involves you purchasing any ridiculous electronic equipment,” replied Charles Senior. “And last but not least, under no circumstances are you to drive nor touch my Ferrari.”

“But, Dad!” Charles said pleadingly. “What am I supposed to drive?”

“The Ford.”

“That old thing?” responded Charles. “I’ll look like an old man driving that old car. Why can’t you trust me enough to let me drive the Ferrari?”

“Because not only are you sixteen years old, you are a new driver as well,” said Charles Sr. “Adding you onto the Ford’s insurance policy was the only way that I could keep my insurance premium down to an acceptable rate.”

“But I won’t be able to pick up any girls in that old car.”

“My heart goes out to you, son, but it’s either the Ford or the bus,” he said sternly. “I’d advise you to decide quickly before I make the decision for you.”

“I guess I have no choice,” Charles said reluctantly. “I’ll have to drive the Ford.”

“One more thing, son. I don’t want you hanging around East Palo Alto while I’m gone.”

“Why?” asked Charles, unable to understand the reasoning behind this request.

“Well, basically because of the kinds of trouble that I know that you can get yourself into,” responded his father. “Son, those kids over in East Palo Alto are very rough and are street smart. I know that you think that you are tough from all the martial arts training that you have. But believe me, son, you don’t know what it is like to grow up on that side of the tracks in a rough neighborhood. I do because I grew up in Chicago. So I know that restricting you from hanging out over there while I’m gone will be the best thing for you.”

There was a moment of silence. Charles Sr. could see the disappointment in his son’s eyes. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “I have informed Maria that Dale and Douglas have my permission to stay here with you while I’m gone. I trust both of those young men, and I know that they will make sure that you get to school on time.”

“Thanks, Dad. At least that turned out cool.”

“Okay, son. Then I will see you in about three weeks.”

“See ya, Dad,” he said, shaking his father’s hand.

Charles watched as his father walked out of the house and enter the limousine. Seconds later, the limousine pulled out from the driveway.

“Señor Junior,” Maria called out. “Tu Quiere Desayuno? Would you like some breakfast?” she asked in Spanish?

“No, quiero [No, thank you,” responded Charles. “I need to get to school early.”

Charles ran up the stairs. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he could hear the telephone ringing in his bedroom. “Hello,” he said, picking up the telephone.

“What’s up, man?” replied the voice on the other end of the telephone. “It’s Dennis.”

“What’s up, Dennis?”

“Are we still cool for this weekend?” Dennis asked.

“This weekend?” asked Charles.

“Yeah, this weekend,” replied Dennis.

Charles thought to himself for a moment. Then it hit him. Dollar night on the Boardwalk at the Santa Cruz Beach. “Man, I don’t know how I could have forgotten.”

“Man, I don’t see how you could forget,” said Dennis. “Do you know how many beautiful females are going to be there on the beach tonight?” The excitement in his voice registering loudly over the telephone. “I’ll bet we’re going to be so busy chasing women all night long that we probably will be so tired that we won’t get up until it’s time to go to the party tomorrow night.”

“What party?” asked Charles.

“Man, have you been drinking or what?” Dennis asked playfully. “The party tomorrow night at the rec center in East Palo Alto. We’ve been planning this thing for over two weeks. I know that you are not going to fake out on me now, are you?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m not trying to fake out on you,” said Charles. “A few things have happened since we made these plans. First off, my father left out of town on a business trip.”

“That’s cool,” said Dennis. “That means that we have the house to ourselves this weekend. So, if we play it right, we could both end up bringing a couple of fine little honeys home with us tonight.”

“Yeah, under any other circumstance that would be cool,” said Charles, “but my father left explicit instructions that I couldn’t have anyone stay over here while he was gone, except for Dale and Doug.”

“What about me?” Dennis asked angrily. “My mother already gave me permission to kick it over at your house this weekend.”

“Yeah, I know, man. I’m sorry,” said Charles. “But my dad was very explicit in his instructions. He said, ‘No hanging out in East Palo Alto and no company other than Dale and Doug.”

“Man, that’s jacked up,” replied Dennis. “What’s wrong with your pops? Is he prejudiced or what?”

“No, he’s not prejudiced, “replied Charles. “He just knows Dale and Doug, and he trusts them.”

“But why does it always have to be those two Buddha Heads?” replied Dennis. “You always hang out with Asians. You act like you’re prejudiced toward blacks.”

“What! Don’t even come at me like that, Dennis,” Charles responded angrily. “You’re blowing this thing way out of proportion and trying to turn this into a racial issue just because you’re upset. And for the record, yeah, I mostly hang out with Asians. The two in particular, whom you called Buddha heads, just happen to be my two best friends.”

“Man, I didn’t mean it like that,” Dennis said, trying to swallow his words.

“That’s how it sounded,” Charles responded scornfully. “Dennis, I’ve known you for about one year, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve known Dale and Doug for over seven years since we were kids. We had the chicken pox and the mumps together. Man, the three of us would die for each other. Dale and Doug are my true brothers, Dennis. They’re my barkadas.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the telephone. “Man, what can I say?” said Dennis. “I’m sorry.”

“Aw, don’t trip, Dennis,” said Charles. “Those guys are my buddies. I just don’t like people talking bad about them.”

“Like I said,” apologized Dennis, “my fault.”

“Awe, it’s cool,” responded Charles. “If I were in your position, I would have been mad too. I mean, we’ve been planning this thing for the last two weeks already, right?”

“Right.”

“So, let’s do it like we planned it,” said Charles, realizing that he felt guilty for forgetting the prior commitment that he had made with Dennis. “I’ll tell you what. Meet me in the student parking lot right after school, and we’ll go to your house, pick up some extra clothes, then head out to Santa Cruz Beach. After that, you can stay over at my house for the weekend.”

“Sounds cool to me,” said Dennis. “See you after school.” They both hang up the phone.

Charles grabbed his jacket from the clothes hook and hurried out of his bedroom. Halfway down the stairs, he realized that he had forgotten to bring his backpack. He turned around and went back to his room to get it.

Entering his bedroom, he picked up his backpack. The telephone rang. “Hello,” he said after picking up the phone.

“Hi,” said the voice on the other end. “May I speak with Charles.”

“This is Charles,” he said.

“Hi, Charles. This is Sharron.”

“Sharron who?” he asked.

“Sharron Morris,” she replied. “I go to Ravenswood High School with you.”

There was a pause at Charles’s end of the phone. Sharron Morris is considered to be the most popular senior on campus. She is captain of the cheer leading squad for the Ravenswood High School’s Varsity Football Team and is the most sought-after girl by every boy at school. Charles was surprised—stunned at the least—that a girl of Sharron’s status would even have his telephone number, let alone be calling him. There must be some mistake, he thought to himself. Girls like Sharron think that I’m some kind of nerd or geek.

Charles took a moment before speaking. He didn’t want his nervousness to be conveyed over the telephone. “What’s up, Sharron?”

“Charles, I got your telephone number from the student directory at school. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” he said, still puzzled.

“The reason that I called you, Charles, is that I wanted to know if you were going to the ‘Dollar Night on the Boardwalk,’ today after school”

“Yeah, I was planning to go,” he said.

“Good.” she responded. “Are you in a hurry right now?”

“Well, I was heading out the door for school,” said Charles.

“Are you driving?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Charles, do you think that you could come by my house and pick me up on your way to school?”

“Come by your house and pick you up?” exclaimed Charles, the shock evident in his voice.

“Yes,” she said, “if that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Are you kidding?” Charles responded excitedly, but then caught himself.

“I mean,” he continued, trying to sound more composed, “sure. It won’t be a problem at all. Where do you live?”

“On Fordham Street,” she said.

“Fordham Street?” he asked. “Where is that exactly?”

“In East Palo Alto,” she responded. Sharron was a little puzzled. Everyone knows where Fordham Street is. Why would Charles ask her such a ridiculous question, unless he did not live in East Palo Alto.

“Where do you live, Charlie?” she asked with much curiosity.

“In Atherton,” he responded.

“Atherton!” she gasped, the shock evident in her voice. “Charles, you live in Atherton?”

“Yeah,” he responded. “Wasn’t it listed in the student directory?

“The telephone numbers are, but not the addresses,” said Sharron. “Let me give you the directions to my house.”

Charles wrote down the directions on a piece of paper, then hung up the telephone. He grabbed his backpack and ran out of his room and down the stairs. “Maria! Maria!” he shouted upon entering the kitchen. He wondered why Maria did not answer him, but then he remembered that this is the time that Maria normally goes to the market to do her shopping.

Charles walked toward the cabinet where the car keys were stored. Opening it, he noticed that the keys to the Ford were hanging next to the extra set of keys to the Ferrari. Without hesitation, Charles reached up and grabbed the keys to the Ford and proceeded into the garage.

Entering the garage, he could see that the Ford was parked in the farthermost stall away from the door. As he continued walking toward the Ford, he couldn’t help but notice the Ferrari, which was also parked in the garage. He paused for a moment to look at it. The stylish black leather interior, the sleek red painted frame with the custom tires. This car, he thought to himself, is a true statement of masculinity.

Charles continued on to the Ford. Opening the car door, he climbed in. Sticking the key into the ignition, he started the engine and let it idle for a moment. When he felt that the car had warmed up enough, he reached for the automatic shift. He was about to shift the car into reverse when he hesitated for a moment; and without much thought, his hand moved from the automatic shift back to the ignition. He then turned the key, shutting off the engine.

“I can’t do it,” Charles said. “Here I am on my way to pick up the most beautiful girl in school, and I’m doing it in this stupid old Ford.”

Charles got out of the Ford and walked back into the kitchen. Opening the cabinet, he replaced the keys to the Ford on the hook where he had taken them from. Five minutes elapsed while he stood in front of the cabinet, trying to muster up enough courage to take the keys to the Ferrari. Finally, he reached out and took the keys from the hook.

Dad, I know you’re going to kill me, he said to himself as he ran out the door, clenching the keys to the Ferrari tightly in his fist.

Part 3

The directions that Sharron had given him had been easy to follow. Pulling up in front of the house, he honked the horn and waited nervously in the car.

The front door of the house opened, and Sharron stepped out onto the porch. She wore a mini-skirt, which allowed her to show off beautiful tanned legs, a tightly fitting cashmere sweater and a bandanna, which she used to hold her long wavy hair in place.

Her eyes lit up as she walked toward the Ferrari. “Charles, is this your car?” she asked excitedly as she got into the Ferrari.

“On my weekly allowance?” Charles said while chuckling. “I don’t think so.” He popped in a Michael Jackson CD into the player as they pulled away from the curb.

As they rode along, Charles nervously pretended to be focused on the music. Through the corner of his eye, he could see Sharron sizing him up.

“So, Charles,” she said, “do you already have a date for the beach tonight?”

“If you mean to ask if I’m going with another girl,” he said, “then the answer is no.”

“What about us going together?” she asked.

The surprise in his voice couldn’t be avoided. “You mean, like, you and me?” he said.

“Yeah, you and me,” she replied.

Charles felt his heart begin to pump hard and fast. This is too good to be true, he thought. I, Charles Gill, have a date with the head cheerleader. The finest girl in school.

Suddenly he felt his elation being replaced with suspicion. Something isn’t right. “Wait a minute, Sharron,” he said. “I thought that you were going steady with the captain of the football team. What’s his name? Donald…Donald?”

“Donald Johnson,” she replied. “He and I are no longer together. We just broke up.”

“So, basically you just broke up with Donald, and all you need me for is a ride to the beach,” Charles responded coldly. “What was I, the last person listed in the school directory who had a car?”

Sharron sat in the passenger seat looking into Charles face. She smiled and gently tapped him on the leg as she spoke. “You don’t think that much of yourself, do you?”

“Well, the finest girl in school calls me up out of the blue and wants to go out with me?” he asked. “You tell me.”

Just at that moment, they pulled into the school parking lot and parked.

“I have to go to class, Charles. If you want to, we can finish this conversation on the way to Santa Cruz Beach. I’ll meet you here after school, if you want to go with me. If not, then I’ll catch a ride with someone else.” Sharron stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her.

Charles sat in the car watching Sharron walk away. “I know this girl is just playing with me,” he thought aloud to himself. “I just know it.”