A Piece to a Different Puzzle

Chapter 35

It was like when the big St. George center ran over him: you had to know how to take a hit and how to fall.  By the time they got to school, he’d already started formulating a plan.  ‘Fine, so Skylar’s mom didn’t want him to know anyone loved him? She wasn’t even courteous enough to sign her communiqué? We’ll just see about this,’ Amani thought. ‘Trust Allah, but tie your camel.’  He’d talk to Danny that evening.

They got out and went over to where the other kids and parents were milling about, next to the bus.  Amani spotted Morgan and headed to her with his mother tagging along.  He still owed Morgan from that night of the first football game.  “Morgan, is this your dad?” he asked.

She nodded, quickly looking down.  She was arguably the shyest kid at Bryan. 

“Dr. Park, it’s a pleasure to meet you.  I’ve heard you speak at our church,” his mom said.

“Oh, sir, this is my mother, Judge Cynthia Ferguson.”

“Daddy, this is…”

“Everybody associated with Bryan Christian Academy has heard of Amani Ferguson,” the man said with a grin.

“In my defense, sir,” Amani said with a serious face, “no one was hurt when we filled the school office with those ping pong balls.”

After a moments pause, Dr. Park burst out laughing, followed by his mother.  “You filled the office with ping pong balls?” Morgan asked.

“No, darling, he’s just making a joke about being well known,” her dad explained.  She looked embarrassed.

She had flawless skin, big dark eyes and luscious jet-black hair.  She was also wore thick glasses and had a bit of a weak chin.  She was five-one and wearing so-new-they-were-still-stiff jeans, sneakers and a terribly oversize windbreaker over her floppy Crusaders’ sweatshirt.  Because she was in the little music program at BCA, she and Amani had only one class together and they hadn’t gotten to know one another very well.

“Hey, Morgan?” Amani said.

She looked up at him.  Way up, as it turned out, because with the heels he was just over six feet tall.  “Yes?” she replied quietly.

“Do you have anybody to sit with on the bus?”

“I…no.”

“Oh, Morgan, let me sit with you.  Pleeeeeeaase?”

Morgan looked at her dad.  He smiled and nodded.  “Okay,” Morgan replied, almost in a whisper.

Amani gave a little hop.  “Thank you!  Hey,” he continued without pause, “Whatcha got there?” pointing at a little case Morgan held.

“It’s my tenor recorder.  I’m going to play the largo from Bach’s oboe concerto in D minor for the talent show.”

“Wow!” Amani said, quite sincerely.

“I don’t know how well it’s going to go over on a bus full of kids.”  She began to warm up to Amani’s attention – but then, Amani had always been nice to her.  She looked at his komuz case.  “I didn’t know you played an instrument.”

“Yeah, but I’m just going to sing a folk song.”  He bent to her ear and spoke in a loud whisper, “The words are terribly naughty.”  Snapping bolt upright, he looked her father in the eye and added, “But it’s all in Kyrgyz, so it won’t offend anyone.” 

Her father gave a hearty laugh again as Morgan looked in confusion from Amani to him and back. 

“Don’t worry, Amani is joking.  I can always tell when she’s just being funny,” his mother said.