The Devil and Devon Sparks

By Paula Masso Carnes

I am troubled by the memory of a student I never had the chance to teach. He came to school the first day with a knife in his pocket, got caught, and was immediately expelled. Suppose he never got caught?

Devon Sparks, a thirteen-year-old black kid, arrives at Central Middle School with a knife in his pocket. He is assigned to Mrs. Dana Sims, the devil in the guise of a sixth-grade teacher. Her first lesson? Give him a rope to tie up his pants so his crack won’t show.

The background scenery includes middle school antics, a chicken manure science project, a church revival, a sixth-grade atheist, learning to live with integration, a tornado drill, and two baptisms, one with water, the other with fire. From the first page, the reader is on a hilarious, deadly trip with one foot in Alabama and the other in hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546265870

Book preview

MAY DAY, 1992

A small crowd gathered under the shade of the live oak trees outside the Jemon Springs courthouse. For the second time in two months this small Alabama town made the Birmingham News. The town straddled Jemon Springs Creek, the source for many a catfish dinner. Most of the residents worked at the cotton mill. A reporter from the paper aimed his video camera toward Mr. Jack McKinnon, a sixth grade social studies teacher, and winner of the Golden Apple Teacher of the Year Award.

Jack felt self-conscious about receiving this award. He found himself obsessively humming the tune to a Simon and Garfunkel hit from the sixties, as he wondered how he had come to be the winner.

The Birmingham News reporter spoke to the TV camera, Mr. McKinnon, you’ve been teaching since 1971. This year you were selected as Jemon Springs Golden Apple Teacher of the Year, based on the fact that three of your students described you as their favorite teacher. LaToya Greene is here today to read the poem she wrote about you.

LaToya, wearing a lovely pink outfit, dark face glowing, stepped up shyly to the microphone and began to read.

Teacher in My Heart

Mr. McKinnon would drop me notes of praise.

My confidence and pride grew over the days.

Soon all my grade averages began to climb.

I even made honor roll for the very first time.

His knowledge of social studies burned like fire.

The Chinese, the Muslims, Buddha and the Roman Empire.

Hieroglyphics, scrolls and a Grecian urn,

He made so exciting that it was easy to learn.

This fall a new school year I will start.

I want Mr. Jack McKinnon to know he will be in my heart.

Because of him, next year won’t be one of strife.

What I learned from him, I’ll take through my life.

The reporter spoke to Mr. McKinnon, Jack, how does it feel to receive this honor.

Jack shuffled his feet and quietly replied, "If I could sing, which I can’t, I would tell you how I feel in a song. It’s an old Simon and Garfunkel song from back when I started teaching.

The mirror on my wall

Casts an image dark and small

But I’m not sure at all it’s my reflection.

Now I know how Oscar winners must feel when they get up there and try to figure out who to thank first. Someone else is always behind every winner."

Mr. McKinnon paused and scratched his head, then continued. I want to thank a young man named Devon Sparks. He is the reason why I teach.

Can you tell us Devon’s story, Jack?

I’d have to write a book, and maybe I will. You see, I have lived the dream of Martin Luther King; at least my own small piece of it. But it’s hard to call Big D a small piece of anything. He’s a big piece. Thanks to all the students who wrote about me. I am proud to receive the Golden Apple Favorite Teacher Award.

DAY 1

FRIDAY, AUGUST 30, 1991

Devon was ready for his first day in sixth grade at Central Middle School. The previous year in fifth grade he had been sent down the road. Now he was back with a vengeance.

He despised his fifth grade teacher, and called her a honky bitch right to her face, but he was only suspended two weeks for that. A few weeks later he was expelled for stealing Ritalin out of the office file cabinet. The drawer was supposed to be under lock and key, but the secretary was careless, and often didn’t bother to lock it. Devon took just enough pills so nothing would be missed, and they wouldn’t have been either, except that the kid Devon sold them to got caught with them at recess that afternoon. What a fool! Good thing people can’t read minds, he thought as the f-word ran through his thirteen-year-old brain cells.

Devon stood at the school bus stop with hateful thoughts of his fifth grade teacher flaming in his brain. It was a hot, humid August day, and Devon was starting to sweat, as he waited for the yellowhound. Uncle Bernardie made him ride the bus, but no one paid much attention to watch and see if Devon actually got on it.

Devon’s pants hung low and loose on his chubby hips. He hid his big belly under a XXL white tee shirt, but kept his hand in his pocket close to his crotch and the knife he always carried. He walked with a swagger; head thrusting, chin extended, first left…then right.

This particular morning he aimed all this hubris, along with a beady black-eyed stare in a blacker face, directly at LaToya Greene, his first cousin. She was a small, shy, skinny black girl who lived down the street from him. Today Toya was all dressed up with white capris, a pink shirt, and matching pink socks for her first day at Central Middle School. Her hair was glued down with a sophisticated hair piece of tiny braids hanging all the way to her waist.

Hey, Toy, when are you gettin’ some boobs? Devon sneered at her as he leaned close to her body.

Toy’s eyes got big and dark, and she took a step back. She was suddenly aware of the hot morning sun on her face; a face already too dark, and now tinged crimson with fear. I’m gonna tell Uncle Bernardie on you. Get outa my face!

She sounded brave, even fearless, but inside she knew Devon was truly dangerous. A couple of years earlier he had proved it, smacking her around when she refused to share her Halloween candy with him. He had moved on to doing drugs awhile back.

Just then the bus arrived, and they climbed up the steps. Old man Johnny Connors was the driver. No chance to fool around on the bus this year. Johnny had been known to cause the meanest kid in school to break down and cry. Devon found it pretty funny when other kids cried, but he knew better than to mess with Johnny - not that Devon would break down and cry.

The bus smelled of dust, sweat, and old plastic, but Devon was not the type to be aware of such things. Intent on getting the back seat all to himself, he kicked a couple of kids and gave one the finger on his way to the back of the bus.

One brave kid he kicked hollered, Hey, Big D, your belly bigger than your dick this year. What you been eatin’?

Shut up, Willie. Yo’ mama never home enough to feed you. That’s why you and your sisters got them skinny legs.

Talking about mamas and skinny legs was a no-no, but no way was Willie going to respond to Devon’s outrageous insults. No one expected him to, for that matter. Devon was just too much of a risk. He got to say whatever he wanted.

Thinking about being fat and thinking about food reminded Devon of breakfast and lunch. He got both free; compliments of the government. But there was always more free food to be had. He looked over at Toya and her cute, new lunch box. She is such a twit. I’m ashamed we’re kin.

To-oy, what did yo’ mama fix you, baby, for your first day at school? Devon flashed her a big toothy grin with his chubby cheeks all bunched up like tennis balls.

Big D, I ain’t got no lunch box.

Toya rapidly let the box slide to the floor toward the wall of the bus. The boy in the seat behind her snickered and gave the box a good solid kick in the direction of the aisle. Opportunities to win favor with Big D didn’t come too often.

With a shriek of glee Devon snatched the lunch box. Toya’s first day at Central Middle School was not off to a good start. She turned her face to the window letting the hot August wind dry the tears from her face before anyone could see.

In the back seat of the bus Devon chomped down on a doughnut from Toya’s lunchbox. He was sitting all by himself, but that was okay, as he was still on a high from the theft he had just pulled off. He felt deep in his soul that this was going to be the best year of his entire life. Things were turning around for him.

He didn’t yet know who his teacher would be, but he felt up for anything. His hand clutched the small knife in his pocket. No one could see him in the back of the bus with the spaced out grin on his face.

Hey, Big D, get off the bus, or do you want me to take you right on down the road back to reform school? Johnny Conners hollered at him.

Aw, Johnny, gimme a sec.

Big D, get your ass off this bus before I have to come back there and drag it off.

Geez, Johnny, I‘m comin’, I’m comin’.

Hey, I hear Mrs. Sims got a transfer over here for sixth grade. You in sixth grade this year, Devon?

Yeah, so what?

Ain’t you sorta big for sixth grade? Is that just fat or did you fail last year while you was down the road?

Naw, Johnny, they liked me at da farm. My mama keep me out a year when I was little ‘cause she didn’t wanna let me go.

Ha! That’s a bunch of crap. Way I hear you was a brat from the git-go. She couldn’t wait to get the little slug out from under. Heard you poisoned her cat.

Johnny, I’m gonna get you for that, you weasel.

All Devon’s pleasure in stealing Toya’s lunch was gone. Now he’d have to hurt somebody, but it wouldn’t be Johnny Conners.

Just as Big D hopped out the bus door, a small kid dashed in front of him. Splat, the kid landed on the cement curb. Devon burst out laughing, belly jiggling in time with his guffaws. He pretended not to see the boy as he tripped over the little prone body, kicking him in the side. Yep, this will be a good day. Devon was sure of it as he fingered his pocket knife.

Devon often wondered what it would be like to slit someone’s throat with his knife. Sometimes when he was really mad at a teacher, he would sit there rubbing the knife and hatching grandiose plots with lots of blood and gore. It would be more fun than Halloween.

Other kids already knew who their teachers were. Their parents had registered them for school by the end of July. But Devon’s mama had died this summer. She was working the night shift at the mill and slept all day. Devon remembered the night the police stopped by around 2 a.m. and told them she had died – an accident with one of the machines.

How could she register me for school, an’ I couldn’t register myself? Anyway, I don’t need no mama. They’re just gonna put me in some dumb-ass class. Who cares which one. I just hope Toya an’ me ain’t together. She sometimes gets the nerve to snitch on me. Not that Uncle Bernardie cares, but it’s a bother to have to think up lies.

He pasted a cool look on his face and sauntered over to a group of old buddies.

Hey, Big D, you back from reform school! Did they get your ass?

You crazy? Nah, nobody’s gonna get me. I would kill ‘em an’ mess up their face.

That’s dumb. Why bother to mess up their face if they’re already dead?

You’re so dumb you still suck your thumb.

Fortunately just then the bell rang, but nobody rushed. They plunged their hands in their pockets, slipping their pants down until their boxers showed all around, then sashayed in the building to a rush of cold air conditioning and the smell of fresh paint.

The building had been remodeled that summer, but the job was unfinished. Devon figured he could have some fun adding a new coat of graffiti in the bathroom.

Most of the kids already had their schedules, but Devon had to go by the guidance office and get his. Somewhere behind him he heard Toya’s voice screaming at him to give her lunchbox back. He tossed it in the corner of the hall where she had to scramble around a bunch of kids to get it. Other kids steered clear of Devon, but LaToya was his cousin, and she couldn’t just ignore him.

Devon, who you got for science? I got Miz Sims. Toya said this with disgust and some fear. She was hoping maybe Devon would be in the same class, because she knew Devon would stand up to the old bat.

I don’ know, Toyota. You know I’ve been down the road. I just hope that ho Bonita will be in the same class. She must be missin’ me for sure.

Devon, stop callin’ me that car name, my name is LaToya Green, not Toyota. Your uncle is too poor to own a car, so you gotta make up car names?

Devon turned the corner to the guidance office and slouched into an empty chair. He would have sat there and fallen asleep, but Mr. Turner (the guidance counselor who had been around for years and knew the Sparks family) hustled Devon right in to his office. Turner didn’t want Devon sitting there any longer than necessary.

Mr. Turner had to admit he felt a small thrill of joy when he informed Devon that his homeroom and science teacher would be Mrs. Sims. Devon Sparks and Dana Sims were a perfect match - made in hell. Turner could not suppress the huge grin that crossed his face just as quickly as the scowl formed on Devon’s round, chubby, black face. Oh yes, Devon was in for quite a sixth grade year. You might say a year which will live in infamy. But then all of Devon’s thirteen years had been infamous. James Turner could feel the twitch in his left eye as Devon walked away. He knew Devon would soon be back - in need of guidance.

Devon strolled down the hall and into science class. Well, strolled isn’t quite the word. His head moved in a sideways manner like a cobra assessing its prey. His big round eyes were shuttered slits, as he shifted a glance from one female to the next. At last his black pupils came to rest on Mrs. Sims.

She felt Devon’s eyes on her body, and her stomach rolled over with warm, flowing nausea. But her only visible reaction was cold, steel, beady, gray eyes glaring right back at his.

She thought, Someone keyed my car the second day of teacher in-service, and I am pretty sure it was Devon. I can bide my time. He will get his. I hear his mother died, but I doubt that will slow him down.

Devon knew better than to sit in the back of the room. Mrs. Sims would just move him, or worse, stand right behind his desk all year. He squeezed his fat stomach into a fourth row seat right next to Lennie, the short little Jewish kid – the same kid he had kicked when getting off the bus. Lennie’s daddy had the money to live on the white side of town, but lived on a street right on the edge of the black side of town instead. Devon figured a Jew wasn’t accepted on either side of Jemon Springs.

Rumor was this Jewish kid was so small he had to take growth hormone shots. Devon reached over with his chubby finger and rapidly poke, poke, poked Lennie in the thigh. Lennie jerked away, his mouth hanging slack.

Wha-what are you doing, Devon?

I’m givin’ you a few extra shots, boy. You’re way too short for sixth grade.

Lennie’s face turned red, and he looked the other way, wishing he was so short he could disappear.

But this time Devon was in trouble. Mrs. Sims, who never missed anything, had seen the last poke and Lennie’s red face.

What are you doing to Leonard? Mrs. Sims hissed. Her gray eyes glittered, as she slapped a yellow index card down under Devon’s nose.

Write your parents’ names, address, phone number, and the bus you ride on this card. Oh, yes, and your birthday. Might as well find out how many times you’ve failed now. You’re mighty BIG for sixth grade, Devon.

Devon wrote. As he wrote he began to kick, kick, kick on his chair leg, wishing he was kicking Mrs. Sims’s head in. Then he handed the card to her with a twist to his large lips, one side up, one down.

I live with my uncle, Bernard Greene. My mama pass this summer, Devon muttered with his head down. Suddenly he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, and all the wind had been knocked out of him.

Mrs. Sims just smiled a huge grin. Thank you, Devon, I will notify your uncle that you will be staying after school today. I see you have no mother - one less person to notify. Stop kicking that chair.

Ahhhhh, Devon let out a sigh as Bonita walked in the door. The fix that will help me survive Miz Sims. Huge boobs for sixth grade, round butt, long legs. With Bonita there’s no limit. She is a ho, and she don’t care.

Hey, girl, come on over here and have a seat, Devon whispered.

His mind flashed back to the last day of school in fifth grade. The class played I’m going to California, and I’m going to take… Bonita decided she would take protection. This summer several boys had taken her somewhere other than California. Bonita looks like she put on some weight. Maybe she forgot her protection, Devon wondered, a little sly grin on his face. Who da man?

Toya was seated just behind Devon. It was 8:45 a.m., time for Mrs. Sims’s class to go to the bathroom. As Mrs. Sims gave instructions about walking down the hall in a straight line and no talking in the halls, Devon gave a quick downward jerk on his pants and climbed out of his desk. He hoped his crack would be visible to Toya, as he turned to stare at her chest. Why not? he thought. It’s too flat for her to worry about who’s looking at it. He noted with a certain satisfaction that her face was red. My butt crack must be showin’ - that or she’s embarrassed about not havin’ boobs yet.

Devon had one other new item of clothing on this first day of school. It was a pair of red boxer shorts his uncle got him along with his shoes. Bernardie had stayed with Devon and his mom for several years. He sometimes yelled at Devon and