Miguel stood at the front door of Tye Mumford’s house, while his mother waited in the car. He pressed his ear to the door and listened, holding his breath. There were two things Miguel was listening for. The first was for Mr. Mumford. Miguel didn’t particularly care for him. The other was Jamal.  Miguel cared a great deal for Jamal. Miguel loved Jamal like a brother.

 

Quiet.

Too, quiet.

‘Hmmm.’ He thought. He looked down at the mail slot of the great red door and smiled. He bent over and ever so carefully, lifted the brass slot in the middle of the door. He peeked in through the opening.

Nothing.

Nothing but hallway.

He was about to let the flap on the slot close when he heard it. A snicker. A faint one, but a snicker just the same. Miguel grinned. With his face still close to the open slot, Miguel whispered. “I know you’re there Jamal.” There came another snicker through the door and what sounded like a ‘snort’. It was hard to tell, because to Miguel, it now sounded like the person snickering was covering their mouth with a hand or two.

 

Miguel called softly through the mail slot. “Jamal…I know you’re there.” Miguel was trying hard not to snicker himself.

 

A deep whisper, softly replied. “No you don’t.” Another stifled snicker, a pause, and then what was most definitely a snort immediately followed it. Jamal’s voice was deep, soft, and sounded so innocent and yet so full of mischief at the same time.

 

Miguel, still holding the mail slot open, could now hear Tye coming down the stairs. ‘Thud, thud, thud.thud..’ Then one loud ‘thud’ as Tye hit the landing at the bottom of the stairway. Softer thuds as Tye made his way down the carpeted hallway towards the front door and then the footsteps ended. Miguel could now see Tye, halfway down the hallway in his school uniform, clutching his book bag, and sporting his ‘I –was-in-a-rush-and-didn’t-have-time-to-pick-out-my-nappy-hair’ look. Miguel could also make out the look of sudden desperation and frustration on Tye’s dark face.

 

“Jamal!” Tye whined. “We don’t have time for this!”

 

Tye was obviously talking to his older brother, who somehow was still managing to stay out of Miguel’s view from behind the door. “Hey. Tye.” Miguel spoke through the mail slot.

 

“Hey, bro.” Tye replied. Tye walked closer to the door. He was looking in the corner where Jamal must be standing, out of Miguel’s view. “Jamal, “ Tye spoke, “..you gotta open the door so I can go to school. Mrs. Marquez is driving us today. We can’t make her late for work with your foolin’ around.” Tye reached for the door and Miguel saw a large, dark hand pass in front of the mail slot to block Tye. Miguel giggled.

 

“Jamal!” Tye snapped. He took a deep breath and grinned at Jamal. “Don’t make me wake Mom up.” He whispered.

 

There was a pause, and then Miguel heard Jamal whisper. “He has to ring the bell. It’s the rules.” Miguel knew Jamal was whispering for two reasons. One was so that he wouldn’t wake up his and Tye’s mother. The other was because Jamal was still certain in his mind that Miguel had no idea that he was there at all.

 

Miguel was about to ring the doorbell like Jamal wanted when…

 

“Miguel!”

 

Miguel jumped. That was his mother. That was his mother and she sounded like she was right behind him. Still looking through the slot, Miguel could see Tye’s eyes almost ready to pop out of his head. Tye had heard Miguel’s mother as well. There was a great look of horror on Tye’s face. Miguel couldn’t understand why at first. Then, it came to him.

 

“What is taking so long?” Miguel’s mother asked.

 

Miguel spun around and looked up. His mother was ‘right’ behind him. He made to answer, but she cut him off before he even got a syllable out. “I don’t know what kind of silly little game you’re playing, but I don’t have the time for it. Now, go wait in the car.”

 

“But Mom..” Miguel began to plead, to explain.

 

His mother pointed past him to the automobile parked down at the curb. “Car. You. In. Now.”

 

“But..”

 

“N-O-W spells now, mister. Move.”

 

Miguel, very reluctantly turned and started down the sidewalk to the beat up, 1987, blue Escort his Mother bought from a neighbor three years ago for two hundred dollars. After a few steps, Miguel looked back to see his mother reaching for the doorbell. “She thinks she’s mad now.” He thought.

 

Mrs. Marquez knew Tye very well. In the year they had lived in Cornwells Heights, Tye and Miguel had become the best of friends. They had sleep-over's, gone to weekend matinee’s together, helped each other with homework, and unfortunately, got in trouble together. They were best friends and she was glad for this, because Miguel had gone too long without a best friend.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the doorbell.

 

She had met Tye’s mother and liked her very much. In a way, they two had become best friends. Both were happy that the boys were so close. Tye’s mother may have been happier about it than Mrs. Marquez knew, because Tye had trouble making friends. This could be attributed to his having to cart his older brother Jamal around with him all the time. Miguel was the first person Tye ever met that didn’t have any hang-ups about Jamal.  Tye was the first person Miguel even wanted to get close to since Mr. Marquez had died  two years ago. Tye helped Miguel not to think too much about his Dad.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the doorbell.

 

Mrs. Marquez had heard about Jamal. She had even heard of some of the ‘stories’ that circulated around this small town about Jamal. Miguel had set her straight on most of them. She had also heard about Tye’s father. About the fact that he liked to drink. A lot. That he had a temper. On more than one occasion, she had even comforted Tye’s mother over the phone and in person, when his drinking got to be too much. When he got really bad, she usually had Tye spending the night with Miguel. She had yet to actually meet Mr. Mumford, and would be happy to keep it that way. Also, she had yet to actually meet Jamal.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the doorbell.

 

Mrs. Marquez knew that Jamal was older than Tye. Tye was only nine and Jamal was seventeen. From all she had heard of Jamal from Miguel and Tye  (His mother never really spoke that much about Jamal.) Mrs. Marquez had come to the conclusion that Jamal was ‘special.’ From what she had gathered, Mrs. Marquez had determined that at some point when Jamal was still a toddler, there had been an ‘accident’. The ‘accident’ had left Jamal somewhat impaired and challenged. Tye had once said that a doctor had told them Jamal would never mentally or emotionally mature above the age of six. He had also volunteered that Jamal had gone to ‘special’ schools all his life and had finished with them last year because ‘they was too x’pensive.’

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the doorbell.

 

From what Mrs. Marquez understood, Jamal’s father had something to do with the accident that had left Jamal so ‘challenged’. She never really pushed for the details out of respect for Mrs. Mumford's privacy.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the doorbell.

 

Mrs. Marquez had never met Jamal. She had talked to him on the phone and was familiar with the soft, deep, and gentle voice.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the doorbell.

 

Miguel talked about Jamal. About the fun stuff that he, Tye, and Jamal would do. About how Jamal could only read Dr. Seuss and nursery rhymes.  How this seemed to influence Jamal to the point where he liked talking in rhyme whenever he could. Miguel had also told his mother about how big Jamal was.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the …..

 

Having never actually seen Jamal, Mrs. Marquez had no true idea how big he really was.  If she had actually met him, she might have remarked to Miguel that ‘huge’ would be a more accurate word in describing Jamal. For, at the tender age of seventeen, Jamal stood at a towering six feet, ten inches tall. And he was big. Football player big. Frankenstien big. Mountain big.  As big as he was, he was still as gentle as puppy. Having never met him though, she would have no idea if his nature matched his intimidating size.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached for the …..

 

Having never met Jamal, Mrs. Marquez would have no way of knowing how much he liked to play games. How he especially liked to take advantage of his enormous size to try and surprise Miguel and Tye.

 

Mrs. Marquez reached …..

 

One of Jamal’s favorite games was ‘Ringin’ Da Bell’. This game involved Miguel or Tye (and once, Mrs. Mumford herself. But only ‘once’.) ringing the doorbell. Then, standing behind the door, Jamal would open it. He would open it ever so slowly. By the time the door was three quarters of the way open, all you would see was the hallway. Then, the door would stop. There would be a pause.

 

Mrs. Marquez…..

 

After a five second pause, ( Jamal would count it out to himself, ‘one miss’sspi, two miss’sspi..) Jamal, all six feet, ten inches of him, all three hundred and five ponds of him, would jump out from behind the door.

 

Mrs. Marquez rang…..

 

He would land with a thundering thud in the doorway, filling it with his massive frame.

 

Mrs. Marquez rang the…..

 

Then, at the top of his lungs he would yell.

 

Mrs. Marquez rang the doorbell.

 

He would yell ‘BOOGIE, BOOGIE, BOOGIE!”

 

Mrs. Marquez rang the doorbell. She heard it chime softly through the door. She looked down to see the doorknob turning. Slowly. It clicked. The door began to open inward. Slowly. Creaking on its hinges. “What the?” she thought, watching the door open at am agonizingly slow pace. The door was about halfway open and she could not see anyone right there, holding the knob on the other side. What she could see was Tye, standing halfway down the hall. There was a complete look of horror on his face as he looked back at her.  He began to step forward. “Mrs. Marquez..”

 

Mrs. Marquez smiled, a little confused. “Tye?”

 

It appeared to her as if…as if he wanted to…’Wants to what?’ she thought.  “Warn you!” a voice in her head shot back. The door continued to slowly open and she thought to herself that it must be Mr. Mumford behind the door. A chill ran down her back as she thought to herself that the only reason Tye would want to warn her of this would be because his father ‘was’ behind the door, and he was ‘drunk’.

 

The door was almost open as far as it could be with Jamal’s giant frame behind it. Tye began to bolt for the door. “No!” he yelled.

 

Mrs. Marquez’s heart was suddenly in her throat. All the worst possible scenarios were playing through her mind simultaneously, each one more horrifying than the other. “Would he actually come after me the way he goes after his own kids or his wife?” she thought.

 

Tye had taken three steps but was still too far to stop Jamal.

 

Mrs. Marquez stood frozen and thought to herself “This must be what a deer in the headlights feels like.”

 

Miguel, standing halfway between his mother and the car watching all of this, helplessly covered his eyes.

 

And Jamal.

 

Jamal leapt out from behind the door. Jamal yelled ‘BOOGIE, BOOGIE, BOOGIE!” louder than he ever had before.  Jamal couldn’t hear the little voice that sometimes spoke to him from ‘way back in his head’ that was trying to tell him  this woman before him was ‘not’ Miguel Marquez.

 

 

 

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