The Dream Bearer by Walter Dean Myers Page B

the way Loren and I do to let each other know we’re kind of nervous. Loren looked at me and then toward Ty.
    â€œTy!” I called to my brother as we got near him.
    Ty turned around quickly, and I got the feeling he was ready to throw down if he had to. His coat was open and I could see his shirt was wrinkled and there was fuzzy stuff, it looked like cat hair, on the front of his pants. He smelled bad, too. Ty always stayed cleaned and neat. Now he looked and even smelled terrible.
    â€œYo, man, what you doing?”
    â€œHanging,” I said. “What you doing?”
    â€œGot some running to do,” he said. “See you later tonight.”
    â€œYou coming home?”
    â€œBe in about midnight.” Ty tilted his head back andlooked down his nose at me. “He giving you a hard time about me?”
    I leaned my head back, the way he did, and said no. Ty told me to stay cool and keep Loren cool, too. Then he spun around and walked away.
    â€œYou should have asked him where he’s been,” Loren said after Ty had walked partway down the block.
    â€œI was waiting for you to say something,” I said.
    â€œYou think he’s in some kind of trouble?” Loren asked.
    â€œHe doesn’t like to be dirty,” I said. “Something’s wrong.”
    â€œIf you want, you can send him to my office and I’ll psychoanalyze him,” Loren said.
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    â€œThere’s nothing like a good chat between a brother and a sister to set things right.” Mr. Kerlin smiled and nodded. “Now, what we want is the same thing, to uplift the community. Am I right on that, my sister?”
    â€œWe’re talking about the same thing,” Mom said.
    â€œYes, we are,” Mr. Kerlin said. “And there’s no use in us fighting against each other when we are not the enemy. Indifference is the enemy. Apathy is the enemy.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re anxious to improve the community,” Mom said. She had on her hairdresser’s apron and was leaning against the sink. “But your empty building has been one of the problems in the neighborhood for the past nine years.”
    â€œThat is another area of agreement!” Mr. Kerlin heldhis cigar between his fingers like it was a dart he was going to throw. “Now two factors have flowed together like two mighty rivers to create a tide of change. The first is the time. There’s enough affluence in Harlem to make rehabilitating the building worthwhile. The second is need. As the city finally sees fit to pay some attention to the neglected areas, there arises a need for decent housing, and I am moved to provide some of that housing. Now, am I a bad man, Mrs. Curry?”
    â€œAnd the fact that the city council was going to take over your abandoned building and give the Matthew Henson Community Project a grant to open a homeless shelter had nothing to do with your being moved?”
    â€œI am genuinely hurt that you question a Christian’s motives,” Mr. Kerlin said. “I hope you believe that.”
    â€œMr. Kerlin—”
    â€œCall me Robert.”
    â€œMr. Robert Kerlin,” Mom said, and folded her hands across her chest, “you are a schemer and a scoundrel and the truth is not in you! Now that’s what I believe.”
    â€œThe Lord moves in mysterious ways. This I know,” Mr. Kerlin said. “But deep in my heart I do believe that one day we will both look back on this day and these events and appreciate how we have uplifted One hundred forty-fifth Street. Uplifted the street and the community.”
    â€œI’m sure,” Mom said.
    â€œAnd we’re giving meaningful employment toneighborhood people,” Mr. Kerlin said.
    Mr. Kerlin looked pleased with himself as he swung his cigar around, and I knew Mom couldn’t wait for him to leave. The way he was smiling and waving his cigar around, he was acting like it was his house and not