Youngest in Charge

  By: Kevin Elliott

  Copyright © 2023 by K. Elliott

  PO Box 12714

  Charlotte NC 28220

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Urban Lifestyle Press

  Dedication

  Kailah and Tristin Smith, two very special kids that are in no way related to each other, have futures that will be brighter than any star. I've been fascinated by the both of you since you were children, and I'm thrilled to see you grow into the wonderful and responsible young adults I know you can be. You are both incredibly intelligent, and your wonderful parents have blessed you with such fantastic qualities. Watching you both grow has been an incredible motivation for me to write this book.

  Chapter 1

  Elijah and Daniel were sprawled across Elijah’s bed playing their third video game of Evil Dead. Elijah had won the previous game against Daniel but had lost to Brandon twice. Elijah planned to play until he knocked off Brandon or at least until his mother returned from the grocery store. Brandon sat at the foot of the bed, snacking on Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies as he watched the two other boys finger and thumb the game controllers.

  “I heard something,” Brandon said.

  “I ain’t hear nothing.” Daniel said.

  “Is someone at the door?” Brandon asked.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Elijah responded.

  “Someone is knocking at the door,” Brandon said.

  Elijah paused the game. Perhaps his mom needed his help with the groceries. She would be pissed at him for playing the game when he hadn’t finished his homework, but it would only take ten minutes to finish it and he planned to do it on the bus the next morning.

  “Power the game down,” Elijah said.

  Daniel unplugged the console and slid it under the bed and Elijah dashed downstairs. His mom didn’t mind him playing the game as long as his homework was done. Though he’d been an advanced student most of his life, he’d sometimes procrastinate.

  As he approached the door, the banging grew louder.

  “Who is it?” Elijah asked as he approached the door.

  “It’s Kwame, bruh, open up.”

  “What do you want?” Elijah asked. He couldn’t allow Kwame inside his home. His mother had made it clear to him that there were only three kids allowed in her home when she wasn’t there: Brandon, Daniel, and JJ.

  He and Kwame were in the same grade, but Kwame was a year older. Kwame had been expelled for the semester for beating up a kid while his brother filmed the fight with his iPhone and uploaded it to WorldStar where the video went viral. The kid had been embarrassed and tried to kill himself.

  Elijah opened the door. Kwame was a tall, skinny kid with purple smoker’s lips. He was wearing low top mesh Yeezys and light blue loose-fitting basketball shorts.

  “It’s about your pops.”

  “What about my pop?”

  Kwame dropped his head. His LA Dodgers baseball cap revealed thick black braids.

  “What about my pops, Kwame!” Elijah shouted.

  He’s been shot.”

  “You capping!”

  “Bruh, you think I would play about something like that?”

  Kwame’s plum-colored lips shivered. “He’s lying in front of Miss Connie’s house. Dre and Tuck is with him. Miss Connie called the paramedics.” He took a deep breath. “ Elijah, you know I wouldn’t lie about something like this. You need to come now.”

  Elijah broke into a cold sweat. Daniel and Brandon barreled down the stairway. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Daniel asked, “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Virgil. He’s been shot,” Kwame said.

  “Noooooo!” Daniel said, not wanting to believe him.

  “No cap, bruh.”

  Elijah turned to Brandon and Daniel, “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Brandon asked.

  “Just follow me.” Elijah ushered them outside then locked the door and they bolted toward Miss Connie’s house.

  There was a crowd of people huddled in Miss Connie’s yard.

  Elijah made eye contact with Jennifer James, JJ for short. JJ was a tallish, caramel-complexioned girl with runner’s legs, long natural hair, and braces. JJ was the fastest kid in the neighborhood and she would let it be known every chance she got. She was four months older than him and they’d known each other since they were babies. She waved her hands.“Over here, Elijah.”

  He knifed through the large crowd until he reached the bloody body of his stepfather Virgil sprawled on the pavement. Virgil’s eyes were closed; he was breathing, but faintly. Virgil was the color of charcoal with flaming red eyes. A man named Dre held onto Virgil’s trembling hand. “Virg, don’t you die on me, man. Don’t you die.”

  Miss Connie was a thin older woman with a silky gray bob. She was wearing a bright yellow dashiki, and bronze and silver bangles dangled from her tiny wrist. She was kneeling over Virgil, pressing a large towel to Virgil’s chest, trying her best to stop the flow of blood.

  Miss Connie’s son, a twenty-five year old weed dealer named Darryl, paced back and forth holding onto his iPhone tight, his Airpods stuffed inside his ear. He was yelling obscenities at the 911 operator. “Where is the Ama-lance? We called these people ten minutes ago. So ya’ll clowns going to sit there and let da man die?”

  Dre said, “Virg, don’t you die on me. Don’t you die. Here is your son. Elijah is here, Elijah is here.”

  Virgil opened his eyes and made eye contact with Elijah. Elijah took Virgil’s hand from Dre.

  “Elijah.”

  “I’m right here, Dad. I’m right here.”

  Virgil was Elijah’s stepfather but he was the closest thing to a real dad that he’d ever known. Virgil had been with Elijah’s mother Khadijah since Elijah was three.

  “Elijah,” Virgil said again.

  “Dad, I’m right here for you.” Elijah’s eyes tearing up. He didn’t know what to say or do. The man that he’d admired so much was bleeding out right here in front of him.

  “I want you to take care of your mom. You hear me, boy?”

  “Don’t you talk like that. You’re going to be fine,” Dre

  demanded.

  Miss Connie continued to hold the towel over the bleeding wound. She pressed as hard as she could.

  “Stay with us, Dad,” Elijah said.

  Virgil squeezed Elijah’s hand. “Take care of Dijah. Promise me you’ll take care of your mother, Elijah.”

  “I will,” Elijah said. A river of tears spiraled down his honey-colored face. Here was the man he most loved, though they bared no resemblance. They shared no blood or DNA, but there was no question that Virgil was his father. Their mannerisms were just alike.

  “I love you, Elijah, and tell Dijah that I love her.”

  The ambulance finally arrived with a firetruck charging right behind it. The ambulance driver was an older black man with greying hair and a thick gray mustache. His paramedic was a young curvy white woman with auburn hair.

  The crowd parted to allow the paramedic to approach. The paramedic placed a bag valve mask over Virgil’s face and applied trauma pads to his chest, bandaged him up, and then they loaded his body onto a gurney and rolled him into the ambulance.

  Elijah approached one of the EMTs. “Is he going to be alright?”

  The driver stared at Elijah before saying, “We’re going to do our best to save his life.”

  “Can I ride with him?”

  “I’m sorry, son. I can’t let you ride.”

  “But this is my dad.”

  “I’m sorry, son, but I can’t.”

  JJ embraced Elijah. “He’s going to be okay. You have to think positive, Elijah.” He felt her heartbeat. She was nervous too.

  The EMT hopped in the truck and they sped off in the direction of the hospital.

  Elijah, Daniel, Brandon, Kwame, and JJ walked toward Elijah’s house. Kwame and JJ talked about what they had heard happened and why it happened.

  “I didn’t see Virgil get shot, but I heard that it was over a cell phone. A new iPhone,” JJ said.

  “An iPhone? Virgil doesn’t even own an iPhone. He uses some Android-brand phone that is over three years old. Virg would never buy a phone that cost over a hundred dollars.”

  “I heard Darryl say something about a cell phone. But when he saw that I was listening, he stopped talking,” JJ said.

  Elijah’s mother’s gray Dodge Charger pulled alongside the kids. She lowered the window and said, “Get in, Elijah.”

  “Mom, Virgil—”

  “I said get in, Elijah. I already heard what happened. We’re going to the hospital.”

  Elijah trotted around to the passenger side and hopped into the car.

  Khad
ijah raced through intersections and ran traffic lights, doing well over the speed limit as she weaved through the slow-moving traffic. She was determined to get to the hospital to be by her husband’s side.

  They arrived at the Grace Medical Center—the same hospital where both Elijah and Khadijah had been born. Ten minutes later, Khadijah handed the keys to the emergency room valet. Elijah and Khadijah were directed to ICU. A very slight, bald trauma surgeon with a greying five o’clock shadow greeted them before they could step into the room. The surgeon looked about fifty and his name tag said. Dr. McDonald. “Are you Mrs. Holiday?”

  “Yes.”

  The red-faced surgeon took in a deep breath. “I’m Dr. John McDonald.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  He sighed again, making eye contact with Khadijah briefly before averting his eyes toward Elijah.

  “No! Don’t tell me that! Don’t you dare tell me that my husband didn’t make it!”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Holiday. We did everything we could. Mr. Holiday had lost a ton of blood before he arrived.”

  “I don’t believe you. This is a hospital. This is where you are supposed to save people. Now go save my husband!” Khadijah directed the man.

  The man shook his head. “There was nothing we could do. We tried our best to revive him, but there was simply nothing we could do. He transitioned before he made it into surgery.”

  Khadijah’s gray mascara ran as she sniffed and wiped her nose. Elijah took his mother’s hand. She crumpled to the floor and Elijah fell to the floor still holding onto his mother.

  Dr. McDonald rubbed Khadijah’s back lightly before saying, “I’m sorry.”

  The man really did seem sincere, but his sincerity was not going to bring Virgil back. Nothing would. He was gone and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

  An hour passed as Elijah and Khadijah sat beside Virgil’s bed. Khadijah brushed Virgil’s hair and planted kisses on his jaw and forehead.

  Elijah said, “His last words were that he loved you and he asked me to take care of you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Those were his last words.”

  Khadijah looked up. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Khadijah smiled. “What else did he say?”

  “That was it.”

  Khadijah smiled at her son who was so much like Virgil. Elijah’s manner was more like Virgil’s than his biological father’s. Her son had adopted Virgil’s sense of calm and thoughtfulness, and like Virgil, Elijah was protective of Khadijah. He’d only seen pictures of his biological father who was serving life in prison for dealing drugs. Khadijah had decided that she would not let Elijah communicate with him since he’d disowned her and Elijah before Elijah was born.

  Chapter 2

  The house was cold, dark, and quiet when Elijah and Khadijah returned. It was 12:30 a.m. and Khadijah’s bedroom felt empty without Virgil. Khadijah removed her shoes and clothes before stepping into the steaming shower where she spotted Virgil’s used bar of Irish Spring soap. Virgil liked bar soap and he’d refuse to use anything else. He admonished Khadijah for suggesting that he use her cucumber body wash.

  “I’m a man; therefore, I’m going to use man soap.” Virgil was the hardest working man she’d ever known. He was a provider and deeply spiritual. Virgil had moved from Alabama when he was fourteen, and six years later, his family had moved back to Alabama. Virgil chose to stay after he’d met and fallen in love with Khadijah even though he didn’t have family in town. He had Khadijah and Elijah, and he’d told her time and time again that was enough for him. Khadijah picked up the soap and sniffed. She’d hold on to it to remind herself of him.

  She finished showering and slipped into a pair of gym shorts. She prayed and thanked God before crawling into bed. Then she heard a knock on the door. “Come in, Elijah.”

  Elijah stood by the open door, his chin trembling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Dad really isn’t here.”

  Khadijah stared at him before looking at the ceiling, searching for the right words to say. “We’re gonna get through this, son.”

  “Who would do something like this? Why would they do it?” Elijah’s eyes were bloodshot as he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “Dad was a good person. Why do people do bad things to good people? I just don’t understand. Why would God allow this to happen?” His voice shivered.

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to have to trust in the police to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Really, Ma? You want me to believe that the police is gonna care about dad?”

  “Yes. We have to trust and have faith that they will get to the bottom of this.”

  “What about trusting and having faith that something like this would never happen to us. I prayed every night that nothing happens to us. I don’t know if I have any more faith.”

  “Don’t talk like that, son,” Khadijah said.

  “But it’s true. Why did this happen? Why are you telling me to have faith in the police? Are you serious right now?”

  “Elijah, the police are here to protect us. Yes, there are some bad ones, but we can’t put all police in a box. The same way we don’t want them to put all black people in a box. Now, if we’re going to judge the police that way, we’re no better than the prejudiced cops that kill unarmed black men and boys.” She took Elijah’s arm. “Did you hear me?”

  He shook his head. “What about God?”

  “What about him?” Khadijah asked.

  “Why would God take a good man?”

  Khadijah stared her son in the eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “But you want me to have faith?”

  “Elijah, justice will be served.”

  He turned to walk away. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t see the police at the hospital. Did you?”

  “No,” she said, not really knowing how to respond to him. She had to admit that it was odd that she hadn’t heard from the police. This wasn’t some simple assault case. Why hadn’t she heard from the cops? Why did it take so long for the freaking paramedics to arrive to tend to her husband? She’d been at the supermarket across town when she’d received the call that Virgil had been shot. It took her twenty-five minutes to reach Miss Connie’s house and Miss Connie told her the paramedics had just left. That meant that it had literally taken them at least twenty minutes to arrive. Perhaps Virgil would still be alive if he’d gotten the proper medical attention. She’d once read that it took longer for ambulances to get to poorer areas. As if there wasn’t enough for a poor person to worry about. Now, without Virgil, what would the future hold for Elijah and her unborn son? For the first time in a long time, Khadijah was worried.

  “Did you shower yet, Elijah?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Elijah said as he stood in light blue pajama pants that crept up his ankles. Khadijah had purchased them a few months ago and he’d outgrown them already.

  “Are you sure?” Khadijah asked.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  Khadijah frowned. When he was younger, he didn’t like to shower, and Virgil had to explain to her that most boys didn’t like to shower when they were younger. Virgil went on to explain that as soon as he became interested in girls, the showers would be more frequent, and sure enough, after Elijah came explaining to Khadijah that he had a crush on a girl named Bria, he started showering regularly. Sometimes he’d even shower twice a day.

  “Mom, you’re not making me go to school tomorrow, are you?” Elijah asked.

  Khadijah hadn’t thought about it, but there was no way she would make him go to school after his dad had just died.

  “No, you don’t have to go to school until I say you gotta go back.”

  “Good because I’m not gonna sleep tonight knowing that Virgil isn’t here to make his rounds. Every night, he’d peek in on me to tell me that he loved me.”

  “I know, baby. Come here,” Khadijah said. “Sit right here on the bed.” Khadijah directed him to a spot of the foot of her bed.

  She hugged him. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you.”