Caught Up

By Earl Sewell

“A straight-no-chaser coming of age tale.”
--Tracy Price Thompson

In the 80s, acceptance and popularity meant everything...

Theron’s world gets turned upside down when his family moves from the inner city to the suburbs. What is supposed to be a change for the better becomes his worst nightmare. His new neighborhood is populated by spoiled rich kids who don’t like outsiders.

Then Theron meets Millhouse, a social reject who befriends him, but their camaraderie does not come without sacrifice.

Just when Theron thinks he’ll never be cool with the popular kids, he discovers that he’s a gifted athlete with star power, and is willing to do whatever it takes, to bring a champion ship trophy to his school. But acceptance and popularity may cost him more than he bargained for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl Sewell
• Release date: Jul 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465731302

Earl Sewell

Earl Sewell was born in Chicago, Illinois and attended Columbia College where he studied Creative Writing. Later, Sewell pursued his dream of becoming a published author. However, after receiving over forty rejection letters from New York publishing houses, he gave up on idea and entered Corporate America. Nine years passed before Sewell realized that he wasn't living up to his full potential. His passion for writing was so overwhelming that he found it impossible to ignore his calling. Sewell has written a total of seventeen novels over the past eleven years. His books have held steady positions on regional bestseller lists and have been featured in many publications, such as The Washington Post, Publishers Weekly, Upscale Magazine and Black Expressions Magazine.

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PUBLISHED BY

Katie Books

South Holland, IL

Caught Up

Earl Sewell

Copyright 2011 Earl Sewell at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

In memory of my mother Katie Sewell and my brother Misalo A. Sewell

Dear Reader:

I will start by saying thank you for purchasing this digital book. What you have is something very special. It is a novel I began writing as a class assignment for my college professor in 1988. It is also my very first full length novel, which was rejected time and again by New York publishers. I eventually self published this book in the mid 1990’s as a print on demand novel under the title "The Good Got To Suffer With The Bad." Only a handful of family members and friends ever ordered it. Admittedly, the original title almost certainly was offensive to the ears of readers and publishers alike. However, it is my first real effort, and I am as proud of it now as I was then.

For the past twenty-three years, this novel, along with countless other works of my fiction, has been buried in my personal archives. Now, thanks to the arrival of digital technology, I am able to re-issue this book under a different title and with a new cover image. The storyline and its characters remain the same. I have not changed anything. It is my sincere hope that you will enjoy this coming of age tale.

Acknowledgments

I thank God for blessing me with the gift of creative writing and for watching over me.

I also want to thank my father Earl Sewell, Sr. for inspiring my imagination with his awesome oral storytelling abilities.

To my mother Katie Sewell, who never let me take my eyes off the prize. I miss you dearly.

To my daughter Candice, who never let me forget the important things. You’re my butter cookie.

I’d like to thank my dear friend Mary Griffin for believing in me and this project. I cherish you for always taking the time to talk with me, listen to me and for giving me motivation during the difficult stages of my journey.

To my cousin Yvonne German. Thank you so much for allowing me to visit, speak and observe your fifth grade class. You’ve helped me in more ways than you could possibly conceive.

To Teresa Dawson and Linda Dominique Grosvenor for giving me guidance, support and providing me with the answers to the endless list of questions that I had. Because of your dedication and wisdom you’ve made a dream become a reality. If the world had more kind souls like yours, it would truly be a better place.

To my friends Michele Boyd, Sarita Mulero, Terrie Friend, and Herlinda Monyak for helping me see this project through to the very end.

To my family at Prolific Writers Group. Thank you all for your encouragement and comments.

To my editor Arlene Uslander. Your knowledge and wisdom were invaluable.

To my reader’s. Visit my websites at www.earlsewell.com and www.earlsewell.net Also visit my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/earlsewell

CHAPTER ONE

Miss Waller was as round as a barrel and a heavy breather. She had a large nose and the widest nostrils I’d ever seen. Her glasses were as round as her face and held together by cellophane tape. I’d come to the conclusion that Miss Waller was a miser because she wouldn’t buy a new pair of glasses. The entire class snickered at the sound of tape being ripped from the dispenser.

Hush up now! And mind your own business, she would always say when the snickering started.

Miss Waller never seemed to buy clothes that fit right. Her pants were always a little too tight on the thighs and her blouses were always cut a little too low on her huge bosom. Today was no different.

I don’t know what’s wrong with you people, she said as she handed back our spelling test papers. Your spelling is more like fourth graders than fifth graders. And most of you still don’t know the difference between a noun and a verb.

A noun names a person place or thing, I thought to myself. And a verb shows action. What’s so difficult about that? Miss Waller began walking down one of the aisles toward the rear of the room.

There are only three people in here who do their homework every night. They always get A’s and B’s and do well on my tests. Everyone knew the names she was about to mention.

Theron over there. I smiled.

Artis back here and Walter up there. All three of them got A’s. She now walked toward the front of the room.

It just makes me sad that these three good people got to suffer with the rest of you. I can’t have these three people one grade ahead of everybody. Now, that means everyone has to go back one grade level. So get out your spelling books so I can give everyone the fourth grade books. Oh, and I want everybody to take these test papers home and get them signed. Parents’ night is coming up right before the Christmas break. And let me tell you right now. Those of you who haven’t been giving me these test papers back with a signature. You’re just digging a hole deeper than you can get out of. Because when your momma comes up here looking all mad because you don’t have a star on the board by your name. I’m going to tell her that I’ve been sending the test papers home with you to get them signed. Then I’m going to show them the grade book and let them see all the tests you’ve failed. And in case any of you are thinking that you’re not going to tell them about parents’ night. The school mailed out the letters a couple of days ago. Hell, what am I going on for! Most of your parents don’t give a damn and don’t come anyhow. That’s why none of you are ever going to get out of the ghettos of Chicago.

No one said a word.

Artis, come up here and pass out these books. Theron. She looked over at me with her tiny mouse like eyes. I smiled slightly.

You walk around the room and collect all of the old ones. She strained desperately to say it all in one breath.

When the 2:30 bell rang, I waited in the hallway for Artis and Walter.

Are we going to get together and study tonight? Walter asked.

For what? I asked.

For real. Artis chuckled. These are the same books Mr. Jones, our fourth grade teacher gave us. I know this book backwards and forwards.

What do you think about what she said? The good got to suffer with the bad, Walter asked.

What about it? Artis uttered as we walked down the stairs.

I mean, if we’re so smart. How come she just doesn’t give us a double and let us go to sixth grade?

Tuh! Man, your big goofy butt is crazy! Artis looked at Walter as if he were the dumbest kid on the planet. "You know how hard we have to work to get good grades. If we jump to sixth grade, we’re really going to have to work three times as hard. Right now, I’m cool with being put back a grade because I know I’ll come home with all A’s on my report card. And when Christmas rolls around there won’t be a single reason for me not to get my rock'em sock'em robots.

You got that right. Because I don’t want to do nothing to mess up my chances of getting my new race car set I held out my hand. Artis and I did our secret handshake that only the three of us knew how to do.

Artis was a class clown, who was always cracking jokes, especially if you had on hand-me-downs or off brand clothes. One time he said to me, Your name must be Noah because your pants are flooding this room! We ended up getting into this ugly signifying match, which he won. One time, Mr. Jones, our fourth grade teacher got fed up with his clowning, so he called Artis’s father at work. A few hours later, his father came up to the school. It got ugly after that. His old man walked into the room with a belt in his hand, snatched Artis out of his chair and beat his butt in front of everybody. Artis hollered and screamed like a baby. He ran under Mr. Jones’ desk trying to dodge his father’s hits. Please Daddy, I’ll be good! Artis pleaded.

Then sit yo’ ass down and learn somethin’! And I ain’t through with you. When you get home, you got some more coming! his old man barked.

Damn! That’s messed up, I thought. Twice in one day!

Walter, on the other hand, was just plain old smart. One year he attended a private school where he entered the city’s grade school science contest with a project called Nutrition for a Healthy Life. He won first place and got his picture in the newspaper and his name mentioned on the radio. But then he had to come back to public school because his mother could no longer afford the private school tuition.

John Hays Public School was different from private school in many ways. The most noticeable was that the school had Jr. high school kids in the same building. And Jr. high school kids would rob you, beat up on you, or even worse, humiliate you by catching you in the bathroom, make you strip down to your underwear and then run out into a crowded hallway full of students, dropping a trail of your clothes for you to pick up. It was even worse if you had on dirty underwear. Because then it was said that you were so poor you couldn’t even afford water to wash your clothes. The Jr. high school kids referred to their game as clothes lining. The only way to avoid this was not to go to the bathroom because Jr. high school boys were always hanging out there drinking or smoking. So Artis and I had learned how to hold our water a long time, but Walter just wasn’t able to do that, and as a result, he’d been clothes lined twice, and both times he had on dirty underwear. Artis and I didn’t tease him about it though.

What do you think, Theron? Walter asked me.

Well, she’s the teacher. I guess once everyone else catches up, we’ll move on.

We walked out of the school doors and blended in with the crowd of other kids walking down Laramie Avenue. Once we got to Augusta Street, Artis turned right and headed toward his grandmother’s house as he did every day.

I don’t know about this man, Walter’s voice was filled with uncertainty.

Know about what? I asked.

To me, Miss Waller seems to be doing things backwards. First, she put us back in reading, then in math, now spelling. How am I supposed to be a doctor? It just doesn’t seem right to me.

Well, I’ve always been told to stay out of grown folks business because they’ve been here longer and know what they’re doing. So if Miss Waller says we have to go back, we have to go back. Look at it like this, I said, we’ll just be reviewing everything, so we’ll know it all the better.

Yeah, I guess, agreed Walter.

We stopped in front of Walter’s house. His mother was sweeping snow off the porch broom. She was a tall, slender woman with long, pressed black hair. To me, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Even prettier than my own mother. I had a major crush on her and I believe she knew it.

How you doing today, Theron? She’d stopped the business of her sweeping and took off one of the gloves she was wearing.

Just fine, and you?

I can’t complain. To make myself look sexy, I smiled and lowered my eyes.

You got somethin’ in yo’ eye, Theron?

No.

Then why you looking at me like that?

Oh, I . . . um . . . It’s the sun.

Mm hmm, she said with a smirk on her face. That was a dumb answer because it was cloudy outside.

You got any homework to do tonight, Walter?

No, he replied.

Well, I’m sure you can find some kind of extra credit work you could be doing. You’ve got to study hard if you’re going to be a doctor.

Yeah, I got something I can do, Walter grumbled.

Man, yo’ mom is serious about that extra credit and doctor stuff, I whispered in Walter’s ear.

Your mom must be just as bad because you’ve done more extra credit work than I have.

Come on, Walter. You’ve got chores you need to get done as well.

I’ll talk to you later, man, said Walter. He ran up the steps two at a time and walked into the house.

It was 1978 and Christmas night in Chicago. I was in my bedroom with my cousins playing with the Tyco Nite Glow Race Car set that I’d gotten when I heard someone from the kitchen call my name. Don’t nobody touch nothing until I get back, I told everyone as I got up to leave. The kitchen was filled with smoke, loud talking relatives, and the music of Al Green’s Love and Happiness.

There was no longer any food from the Christmas dinner on the table. It had become the setting of a serious bid whist game, full of aunts and uncles cheating each other out of money any slick way they knew how. I watched as my Uncle Joe ran his mouth all over the card game.

You know, Henry? he said. "I sure do hate that they canceled that TV show Batman. My favorite villain was the Joker."

"I really didn’t like Batman, said my Uncle Henry. I liked Amos and Andy. My favorite character on that show was King Fish."

Damn, shut up with all that ying yang! exclaimed my aunt Bernadean, who was five months pregnant.

Allen! Marvin! Y’all going to check out on me like that! What’s the matter? Y’all can’t handle it? My father’s cousin, Big Bear, had out drank his two younger brothers who were slumped over in their seats in front of the radiator. This was nothing new. Big Bear had always been able to out drink them. It wouldn’t be long before he found himself a quiet corner and dozed off, too. But first, he’d have to go around and tell everyone how much he loved them. He was pitiful when he got to doing that. I thought y’all could handle it. He continued talking to Allen and Marvin, who were now snoring.

Hey! I want all of you to know that I love you. He started crying. From the bottom of my heart. God! He can be so annoying, I thought.

Somebody call me? I asked aloud.

Theron, step out of the way. We’re playing darts here, said my father. I quickly moved.

Theron, come here. I’m the one who called you. It was Uncle Joe.

Run on down to my car for me and get my pack of cigarettes from under the front seat. He leaned back and pulled his keys out of his front pocket. You can have the change that I left down there."

It was snowing pretty hard outside, and the little bit of traffic on Chicago Avenue moved at a snail’s pace . The weatherman said we could expect at least five-inches. I scooped up some snow and crushed it into a snowball. I aimed for the street lamp then chucked the snowball nailing my target. I’ve got pretty good aim, I thought to myself. When I walked back into the house my cousin