Warrior Angel by Robert Lipsyte Page B

“Alfred.”
    Alfred glanced casually over to him andsaid, “You hungry, young gentleman?” as if they were picking up a recent conversation. They hadn’t seen each other in months. The van was moving before Lena had shut her door.
    â€œSure.” He relaxed into the seat. Alfred was going to make it easy, leave the past alone.
    â€œLena’s made some of that sesame chicken you like.” Alfred poked a button on his CD player. Old rock music poured out. Sonny could tell he didn’t want to talk right now. Fine.
    â€œWhere are you living?” Lena leaned over from the backseat.
    â€œThe gym.”
    â€œWant to stay with us for a few days? Girls be thrilled.”
    Sonny peeked at Alfred out of the corner of his eye. He was staring straight ahead. Lena must be talking for him, too. Sonny felt his neck muscles soften and relax. “Don’t have clothes or—”
    â€œWe didn’t throw your stuff out,” said Alfred. “Yet.”
    They all laughed.
    The house looked the same, a two-story white box on a quiet, shady street of two-story white boxes. Alfred had grown up in Harlem and wanted his kids to grow up in thesuburbs. Little lawn out front, big backyard with grill and stone patio. Sonny had set the stones of the patio one weekend. It seemed like a long time ago. Two years?
    Tamika and Lysa came home from school just as Sonny and Alfred settled in the den to talk. They burst in, squealing, and began hugging Sonny and throwing mock punches at his jaw. He got up and sparred with them until Lena dragged them out.
    â€œYou gonna be ready for the Wall?”
    â€œI’ll be there.”
    â€œNot my question.”
    Sonny shrugged. “Should be in shape. But I don’t know what happened with Crockett.”
    â€œNever saw you like that. Fighting in slow motion.”
    â€œFelt like I was drugged.”
    â€œLooked like you didn’t want to be there,” said Alfred. “Hubbard call you?”
    â€œDoesn’t know where I am,” said Sonny.
    Alfred laughed. “ESPN knows, everybody knows. He called me.”
    â€œWhy?” Sonny felt uneasy. Too much going on behind my back.
    â€œWanted to find out if I was going to beyour manager again.”
    â€œWhat did you say?”
    â€œBeen there, done that,” said Alfred.
    Sonny wasn’t sure if he liked that answer or not, but he said, “That your final answer?” just lightly enough for them to both chuckle and move on. It felt like the early sparring in a fight when you’re looking for openings and weaknesses and blind spots.
    â€œWho this kid you took in?”
    â€œStarkey? He follows me on the bike, calls Rocky, cleans up the gym.” It was the first he had thought of Starkey since he saw Alfred. He felt a twinge of guilt.
    â€œHow old is he?”
    â€œSeventeen?” He realized he wasn’t sure.
    â€œHenry thinks the boy’s not playing with a full deck.”
    â€œStarkey made things happen. Never would have broken loose from Hubbard without his e-mails, never would have gotten back in the gym without Starkey showing up.” He was surprised to hear himself talk so much, with so much energy.
    There was still doubt in Alfred’s eyes. “He doing what you want or pulling strings for his own reasons?”
    â€œHe talked me into calling you.”
    Alfred blinked at that. “Well, keep your eyes open. Sometimes rich kids get hung up on fighters, rappers, even thugs. He’s a jock sniffer.”
    Sonny wanted to say, I feel good when he’s around, like having a little brother who can help you. But he settled for a quick jab. “You rather I’m still with Malik and Boyd?”
    It scored. Alfred’s lips tightened, but he moved on. “Sure he’s not using?”
    Sonny thought about the way Starkey slipped in and out of moods, the way his voice got weird sometimes, muttering. But he said, “Never saw