going off the rails.
"Do your friends tell you that mugging people makes you a man? That just makes you a coward, Darnell." Rob's voice was flinty. "If you want to be a real man, go to school, graduate, get yourself into good condition. If you're lucky, maybe the Marines will take you. They're the real thing, not cheap street criminals."
There was a flicker in Darnell's dark eyes. "The Marines wouldn't want me."
Seeing reluctant interest, Rob said sternly, "They sure won't take a mugger, but the Corps is full of strong, brave, black men. Real heroes. If you want to do something useful with your life, go down to the Fresh Air youth center. Play some basketball, sit down at a computer, use your brain and your body both. You might surprise yourself. In a few years, you might even turn into Marine Corps material. But only if Miss Marian doesn't want to press charges."
Taking her cue, the old woman jabbed Darnell in the ribs with the head of her cane. "I won't press charges, but I will tell your grandmamma. Now go down to that youth center and make some new friends. You've got a good brain. Use it."
"Yes, Miss Marian." After a long pause, Darnell said with difficulty, "I'm real sorry. I won't never try 'n rob anyone ever again."
"See that you don't. Because if Miss Marian doesn't hear, I will." Rob gave a sharklike smile. "And I'm nowhere near as nice as she is."
"Yessir." Darnell started edging away nervously.
Miss Marian halted him with a gesture. "If you come by my house and clean the trash from the backyard tomorrow, I won't tell Lucy about this. Will you do that?"
"Yes, ma'am," Darnell said eagerly. "I'll do a good job, I promise."
"Come by after church then. And if you do really well, there will be some peach pie for you."
Darnell nodded, then took to his heels, disappearing down an alley. "Do you think he'll follow through?" Rob asked.
"There's a good chance. He was always a nice boy, but his mama's on drugs and his daddy's dead, and he's too much for Lucy to handle." Miss Marian shook her head. "Giving him something better to do is a start. Thank you for your help."
"You would make a pretty good Marine yourself, ma'am."
The old lady snorted. "I used to teach junior high school, and I learned that you can't let yourself be afraid of kids, no matter how big they are. You do your best, and hope they listen."
"Can I drive you somewhere?"
"My daughter's house is only a block away. Thank you for your help, young man." She cocked her head to one side. "Aren't you the Graffiti Guy?"
He nodded and held his hand out. "Rob Smith."
"Marian Berry." She shook his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. "It's good to get rid of graffiti, but don't the kids just come right back and paint new ones?"
"Usually not. They want recognition. Being wiped out as if they don't matter generally sends them to find a spot where their tags won't be covered immediately. If a different tagger comes around then, we paint him out and pretty soon, he's gone, too."
"Sure does make the neighborhood look better. You keep up the good work, Mr. Smith." She marched off, back erect.
Adrenaline still pumping, he climbed back into the truck and resumed his trip to the church, hoping he wouldn't be late. He had just pulled into the lot when a burgundy-colored Lexus whizzed up next to him. The car made his truck look old and tired.
He climbed from the truck, then stared at the woman who bounded from the Lexus. She wore jeans, a dark orange T-shirt that read 99 PERCENT OF LAWYERS GIVE THE REST A BAD NAME, and she had a wild mane of red curls swirling around her head. Dangling earrings and an embroidered ethnic vest completed her outfit. He said, "Who are you and what are you doing with Val Covington's car?"
She laughed. "This is the real me, Saturday style. Can you stand it?"
He climbed the steps and unlocked the back door. "Stand it? I'm fascinated. I always loved the story of Jekyll and Hyde."
"I presume Dr. Jekyll was me in lawyer drag." She