Page 5 of Inferno
There was no answer.
She knocked again. “Manny? Are you awake?”
Silence.
Frowning, Prissy opened the door and poked her head into the shadowy room.
Manning was sprawled across his bed, eyes closed, one long leg dangling crookedly over the side.
Shaking her head in exasperation, Prissy marched over to the bed and shook his shoulder. “Manny, wake—”
He jumped, his dark eyes snapping open.“Ma?”
It was only then that Prissy saw that he was wearing headphones that connected to his Walkman, which was why he hadn’t heard her calling him. “Why haven’t you finished getting dressed?” she fussed, gesturing at his bare chest. “Don’t you know what time it is? You’re gonna miss your bus!”
Manning sat up slowly, plucking the headphones off. “Do I have to go to school today?”
“Of course you do! Why would you ask that?”
When Manning said nothing, Prissy felt his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I know. I just…” He trailed off with a listless shrug. “I just don’t feel like going today.”
Prissy frowned. “Now you know that’s not a good reason for missing school.”
Again Manning shrugged.
With another shake of her head, Prissy strode to the windows and yanked the curtains open. Manning winced as pale sunlight flooded the room, which looked like a tornado had swept through it, leaving clothes, sneakers and books strewn haphazardly across the floor.
Prissy clucked her tongue. “This room is a pigsty! I want it cleaned up when you get home from school today, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Manning mumbled, dragging on a blue sweater over his jeans.
As Prissy headed from the room, she added over her shoulder, “And hurry up so you can eat breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Prissy froze, then turned and stared at her firstborn. She couldn’t have heard right. Manning Wolf never missed a meal.Ever.
She eyed him worriedly. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked, even as she acknowledged that her son wasn’t such a “baby” anymore. At fourteen, he was already six foot one, with broad shoulders and a sprinkling of facial hair. Even his voice was changing, deepening into what would soon become a rich baritone like his father’s. He was morphing into a man right before Prissy’s very eyes.
“Is everything okay at school?” she prodded gently. “I know being a freshman can take some getting used to. And it probably doesn’t help that your mother is the school superintendent.”
Manning grunted noncommittally, bending to tie his huge sneakers.
Watching him, Prissy felt a familiar pang of guilt. Although it had been two years since they moved from Atlanta, she knew that Manning and his brothers were still adjusting to life in Coronado. They missed their old neighborhood, their schools, their friends, and—most of all—their cousins Michael and Marcus. Living in a five-bedroom house with a pool had done little to cure their homesickness. They wanted to go back to Atlanta so badly that Prissy couldn’t help second-guessing her decision to uproot them.
As Manning rose and walked to the dresser, she remarked conversationally, “I heard that Coach Delaney really wants you to play for the basketball team. He even called your daddy at work, hoping he could persuade you to try out for the team.”
“I don’t wanna play basketball,” Manning mumbled, picking out his short afro with a long-toothed comb.
Prissy frowned.“Why not?You played back in Atlanta.”
“It’s not the same here.”
“Really?”Prissy countered wryly. “Do they play basketball by different rules in Coronado?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
