Numbers by Dana Dane Read Free Book Online Page A

happened to Jenny. He was much different from the Caucasian lady, Mrs. Whiter, who had been her caseworker for the previous seven years. Mrs. Whiter was condescending, intrusive, rude, and did not care one bit about Jenny’s welfare. Mr. Sampson was more like a father figure than a caseworker.
    “Okay then, Jenny, take these papers to Bayard Rustin High School and set up a date to take the test. Once you’ve passed the test I’ll set you up with some job interviews. I’m very pleased that you’ve decided to do this for yourself, and I promise you, you won’t regret it.” Mr. Sampson wrote some information on a sheet of paper and passed it to Jenny. “Next time we talk I want to hear that you have a high school diploma.”
    “I won’t let you or myself down,” Jenny said confidently, giving Mr. Sampson a daughterly hug.
    A month later, at the age of thirty, Jenny received her high school diploma. A month after that, she secured a job with the city doing clerical work at the health department. City jobs didn’t pay much, but the medical benefits were good for her and her three children. Money was still tight, but at least it was money she was earning herself. This was the first time she truly felt independent.

The Game Changes
    It was the fall of ’87, and Numbers’s birthday was right around the corner. On October 8 he’d be turning thirteen. Although he still enjoyed riding his skateboard, his interests were changing. He was paying more attention to the way he dressed, and to girls. And he was beginning to grow out of his baby fat, slimming down and looking more like his father every day. Jenny wished he looked more like her, although he did have her lips and eyes. Overall, she was pleased at how handsome her son was becoming.
    The previous month, Numbers had spent all the money he earned in the summer from running errands and playing numbers on helping his mother get school clothes for himand his sisters. His birthday was in seven days, and he was broke. He and Jarvis wanted to take two neighborhood girls to the movies. The one Numbers liked was named Rosa-Marie Vasquez. She was Puerto Rican, and she liked Numbers also, but her mother forbade her to go out with black boys.
    One day, when Numbers went to Rosa-Marie’s house to get her to come out, Ms. Vasquez pulled him aside to speak to him. In an almost unintelligible Spanish accent, she said, “Dup’ee, you good boy. I like you. My daughter … you okay to be friends. But you no date her! Latino and Negro no good together,
comprendo?”
She nodded.
    Numbers mimicked her nod but he really didn’t mean it. Ms. Vasquez believed a black man was not as good as a Puerto Rican man for her daughter. Numbers didn’t understand this logic. After all, her husband had left her to be a single parent just like Numbers’s dad did to his mother. He and Rosa-Marie would just have to sneak to the movies.
    Numbers figured if he could hit a bolita (two-number betting) or the Brooklyn (three numbers), he’d have enough for his movie date with Rosa-Marie. Over the course of the next four days, he did errands and made number runs, but he didn’t hit any of the numbers he played. School was in session, so he was unable to play in the afternoons and could only play the late number.
    After school on Thursday, Numbers walked across the street toward the number spot. Park Avenue’s traffic flowed east close to the projects side, then he had to walk under the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, or the El, where people parked their cars. Crispy Carl always kept his light-blue Ford Thunderbird under the El. It wasn’t the latest model, but he kept it detailed. Numbers loved to walk by the car and admire it.
    He crossed the street and saw Crispy Carl holding court on the bench outside the number joint.
    “If that ain’t the truth, my name ain’t Crispy Motherfuckin’Carl.” He always said that. When Numbers first met Crispy Carl, he actually thought Motherfuckin’ was his middle