Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“This is only a warning, but I will still have to note it in your file. I think you should go home for the rest of the day, I can see you’re upset.” Charles opened up a thin manila file folder and clicked the end of his pen and began jotting down something in chicken scratch.
“In my file! Put what in my file? You can’t do that.” Curtis ran his hand through his hair, completely baffled by everything. Charles couldn’t outright ban him for nothing, so he was completely fabricating something. Something extremely serious. Something that could get back to his school and possibly hinder him getting his social work degree. “Wait a minute. Susan was right there. She’ll tell you.”
“I don’t have to speak with anyone else, Curtis. I witnessed it,” Charles said in a monotone, still writing.
Curtis wanted to rip that pen away and stab him through his hand. “You know this isn’t right. I was not doing anything like you’re insinuating. I would never,” Curtis hissed the last word. “Even think along those lines. That is sick. It’s sick for you to think it. To make up a story like this.”
“Careful.” Charles’ head snapped up, his eyes locking in on Curtis. “I can make this an official write-up of inappropriate conduct.”
“What is it you want from me, damnit? I’m here every day, weekends too. Putting in the work and time with these kids. Why are you here? I’m here because I care. Why? Why are you even here, Charles?!” Curtis fumed.
Charles shot up and pointed to the door. “I suggest you close your mouth and take the rest of the day off. Before I decide to not allow you back.”
Curtis wanted to dump that desk on Charles’ head, but if there’s one thing he’d learned over the years, it was to not let anyone control your life. That’s what his boss was trying to do. Curtis couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t tell his boss to shove it, even though that’s what he wanted Curtis to do. He couldn’t let this bully chase him away. Those kids needed Curtis here. Jamal needed him here. He had another test to pass to get that C and Curtis was going to make sure he was here to help him. Jamal had a real shot at getting into college by way of football and passing grades, a chance to get an education and a way to help his single mother, who worked two jobs to support them. They’d earned this, they’d put in their dues. Curtis thought about the B+ in Jamal’s hand and clamped his mouth closed on the tirade of slurs and curses on the tip of his tongue, turning around and storming out the door. He went back to the rec room and quickly gathered his belongings. Susan looked at him with confusion, standing to walk him to the door.
“What happened? Curtis, are you okay?”
“Curtis, what’s up, man. You leaving?” Jamal asked. “Did you get fired?”
Curtis couldn’t talk because of the massive boulder in his throat but he could hear the worry in Jamal’s voice. He reached his hand out to pat Jamal on his shoulder to let him know he was alright but yanked it back quickly. Having to do that shot a world of hurt through Curtis’ chest strong enough to make him double over, but he held his spine rigid and barely whispered that he’d see them tomorrow and turned to hurry back down the hall.
When he was in his car, he dropped his forehead on the steering wheel and beat his hand on the dashboard, releasing all the anger and frustration he’d wanted to unload on his boss. He cried angry tears into his shaking hands. He’d never been accused of anything so vile and degrading. The thought of anyone getting wind of the accusation his boss had made was making his stomach cramp up.
He put the key in the ignition, but his hands were trembling so badly he knew it was dangerous to try to drive, so he sat back and rested his head against the headrest and tried to calm himself down. After a couple minutes, his phone rang in his backpack. Tears still streaming down his face, he tapped the speaker button and tried to put a little cheer in his voice when he answered his dad’s call. “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
“What’s the matter, Curtis?” Green asked.
His father knew him too well. Green was the one that always could pick up on even his slightest discomfort. “I’m fine, Dad.”
“No, you’re not. You’re crying. What’s wrong, Curtis?” Green’s voice was getting louder, his anxiety coming through the line and making Curtis wish he was there so his dad could wrap him in his arms. But he was grown. He didn’t need his dads coming to his rescue. He’d be a man like they’d taught him to be.