As I headed away from Big Billy, I headed out the way

Jonathan used to show me. It was a shortcut that Jonathan

and I would use in order to get back to the field house

Mickey Mantle’s Last Home Run | 153

first. Jonathan never liked to waste any time, especially

his free time. I thought it was the best way to get away

from Big Billy and any of his friends, and sure enough,

I was right, but there was one problem: the shortcut

went right through one of the poor sections of the black

neighborhood. I realized that might be the neighborhood

Darrell lived in. I quickened my pace. I had never been

afraid to go through that section, but that had been before

the fights at school, and I’d been with Jonathan. There

were quite a few people walking around. It was a nice

spring afternoon. A few flowers were popping up. I didn’t

know what kinds they were except for the dandelions,

which didn’t really qualify as flowers. There were plenty

of dandelions. The sidewalks were cracked and crumbled,

so I was walking in the street. There were plenty of parked

cars around on the street, and some of them looked sort

of beat up. I hardly thought someone could actually drive

them. Every time people walked past me, I tried not to

look at them, but I knew they were looking at me. They

were probably thinking, What the heck is this white kid

doing, walking through here all by himself? Is he crazy or

something? I guessed I must have been.

A bunch of little kids were playing kickball or

something in the street. I didn’t want to get them upset

or anything, so I waited a bit for an opportunity to go

by unnoticed, but that was pretty hard with a bunch of

dopey kids. Even though they were a lot younger than I

was, that didn’t stop them from taunting me. “Hey, white

boy. What choo doin’ round here?” one little kid said. I

tried to act cool and ignored him.

154 | Lendora to the Rescue

“Yeah, white boy. Go on back to yo’ own

neighborhood,” a little girl said. She was even younger

than Lendora.

I decided I’d go up onto the curb and walk around

them, but there was no sidewalk; there was just somebody’s

lawn, so I figured I’d have to cut through their game. Just

then, I heard some kids coming down the street behind

me. I could tell they were kind of rowdy. It sounded like

a gang. I turned around and saw Darrell and his buddies.

I knew I was in big trouble. As I looked back, I could see

that they noticed me. I was a sitting duck.

“Hey, man, look who’s here,” I heard Darrell say.

“This white boy wants to see how the other half lives.”

“Hey, man, it’s the Wrecker. What a treat,” another

kid said. “Let’s show him round the ’hood.”

I started walking faster, and I walked right into a

little kid.

“Hey, get out of here, man,” the little kid said.

“Yeah. Ah. Sure,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I sure was sorry—

about a lot of things. I was sorry I’d come this way, sorry

I’d ignored Big Billy, sorry the Doc had gotten blown

away, and darn sorry that I threw sidearm.

“Hey, what you messing up the kids’ game for?”

Darrell said.

“Ah, I’m just heading back to the field house,” I said. I

was walking backward while talking to Darrell, who was

still several yards away from me. I had gotten beyond the

kids’ game, but I was still deep in the heart of Darrell’s

neighborhood.

Mickey Mantle’s Last Home Run | 155

“Um, uh, how’s the ole eye?” I managed to say, and

then I regretted saying it.

“It’s still pretty messed up,” one of Darrell’s buddies

said. “How ’bout if we make your eye just like his—and

maybe both of them.”

“Yeah,” another kid said. They started to move toward

me more quickly. I was still walking backward. I knew

that if I turned my back to them, I’d better run, but I

didn’t think I could outrun them all. As they got closer,

however, I thought my only escape would be to run. I

still had the speed of a young Mickey Mantle, or so I

liked to think, but I was so scared that I couldn’t get up

the nerve to turn around and run. Just then, a car horn

honked. The car drove through the kickball game and

then went through Darrell’s gang. I was kind of hoping

it was a police car or something, but I had no such luck.

As it drove by me, I saw that a bunch of black people

were inside.

Suddenly, just as the car was passing me, it jerked

to a stop, and I heard somebody call my name. “Hey,

T. J.! What you doin’ over here? How ’bout a ride?” It

was Lendora—good ole lovely, wonderful, little, dopey

Lendora and her stupid wonderful friends being driven

home by one of their fathers.

I went up to the car slowly. I gulped a little, tried to

maintain my cool, and said, “Ah. Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

I hopped in, and we were off.

“What you doin’ walking through this section of

town, T. J.?” Lendora said as we drove back toward the

field house.

156 | Lendora to the Rescue

“Ah, it’s a shortcut,” I managed to say. “Jonathan

taught me it.”

“Oh,” Lendora said thoughtfully. “You know, T. J.,

white boys shouldn’t be walkin’ through this section of

town alone these days. And ooh boy, you do look white!

You seen a ghost?” Lendora sure could be very perceptive

sometimes.

They let me off back at the field house. No way was

I going to take a shower. I changed and was out of the

place in a blink. I did still have that young Mickey Mantle

speed, I thought, because I got home in record time,

running all the way.