Buried Treasure

Justin lived in a two-story white frame house down a hollow tucked between two hills. His mother taught in the local school system. His father worked road construction. His house was fairly isolated and he had no playmates within walking distance of his house. He liked to play games on the computer or watch hunting and fishing TV shows with his dad. He caught the school bus around seven in the morning and was home about four-thirty in the afternoon. He had a collie named Hickory, who followed him wherever he went. His older sister was away at college. He procrastinated on his research paper until three days before it was due. His task was to study the written work of Henry Marriett, the early abolitionist that he selected, and find out whatever he could about the writer's life. He sat down at the computer with a bowl of popcorn and a cup of hot cocoa. He learned that little was known of Mr. Marriett, that he supposedly lived in upstate New York and that he was a poet and an essayist. Justin found one poem and several essays written by Mr. Marriett, all were about the evils of slavery and the belief that harmony and truth would reign in the end. One essay told the story of a young girl who was captured off the coast of Africa and whose spirit could not endure the long ship ride of the Middle Passage. Her body was thrown overboard by the slavers. In the essay, her spirit flew from her body, with a promise to sustain future generations as they strive for justice and unity in the world. Justin yawned at the task of typing the material together, when an Instant Message crossed his computer screen. Would he accept a message from someone with the password: drumbeat? "What the heck," Justin answered for fun. Drumbeat happened to be Monteir, who wanted Justin to come to Charleston to visit. "Could you do that?" Justin's mother was in favor of the visit. He was to meet Monteir on Saturday. Monteir had given him directions to his house on Elm Street. The drive to Charleston seemed short. His mom hummed along to her favorite Bob Marley tape, "Everything's Gonna' be Alright." Monteir met them at the door wearing the same bright yellow shirt that Justin had seen him wearing at the Cultural Center. Justin felt self-conscious in his dull green flannel. Monteir's mother came to the door and invited them into the house. The two moms sat in the kitchen and drank coffee, while Monteir showed Justin his room. On one side was a yellow and black woven cloth and his African drum; on the other side was a shelf of basketball trophies. Justin asked if he could play around with the drum. That began the game. Monteir would create a rhythm and Justin would imitate it. The rhythms became more and more and more complex. Yet Justin was able to remember and copy the sequence. After a while, the boys laughed and wrestled on the braided rug in the center of the wooden floor. Justin's mother yelled up the steps that she was going to the mall for a few hours and that Justin should behave himself. Monteir asked if Justin wanted to meet his friends. "Sure" was his response. The boys walked down the street. The houses were close together with a narrow sidewalk between each of them. Many of the houses were double with a family living on each side. The front porches were filled with people enjoying the fresh air. Monteir took a back alley to a brick house where they knocked on the back door. Soon after going from house to house, a small group of boys had collected. Justin realized that he was the only white face in the crowd. All the boys were interested in Justin and asked him all kinds of questions.

The boys walked to a small corner store and restaurant and dared him to go in and order sweet potato pie. Few white people visited the neighborhood and the boys had never seen one enter that particular store. Justin didn't see the big deal. He took the dare and walked into the restaurant to order the pie. When he emerged with the pie, each of the boys took a small piece, laughing. Justin had the sensed that he had passed a test. They all walked together to the playground and became immersed in a game of basketball. No one talked. Justin had never seen such intense energy on a court. The neighborhood boys definitely had an edge on him. Every shot they made seemed to go through the hoop. Justin congratulated the boys on their skill and said that he had better get back to Monteir's house. His mother was due back soon. Monteir walked in silence with Justin. Justin said that he had a lot of fun and would like for Monteir to visit him. The boys agreed to ask their mothers about an appropriate time. Justin's mother showed up loaded with shopping bags and wanting to leave before the five o'clock traffic. She thanked Monteir's mother and patted Monteir on the shoulder. She could tell that the boys had enjoyed each other's company and knew that a friendship had begun. When the car started rolling down the Interstate, Justin's mom pointed out that finding a new friend is like finding buried treasure. "Okay, okay," Justin said.