Nothing Else Matters (15 page)

Why was I getting brought into this? A heat rushed into my neck as I thought about the repercussions of losing Derek, Lawrence, A.J. and Tyrone. Of course, we still had Andrew, Ben, Harry, and Freddie. They were seniors as well and had played with me throughout my high school career, but they were nowhere near as fast as the black guys. I’m not being stereotypical when I say that the black guys were the best on the team. They were. What was I gonna do? I would have to run in every play in order to secure this victory. Coach might even have to put me on defense as well. And the way my body was behaving, I didn't know if I could take a night of playing both sides. It was getting difficult just getting out of bed. How would I ever handle winning a state championship practically on my own?

  Reyna knew nearly every Charleston Prep high school student by name. With only about one hundred kids per grade, it wasn't that difficult of a task. She was even pretty close to some of the white students, hanging out with them at parties or going to the movies with them on weekends when it didn't interfere with her studying. She considered a lot of Charleston Prep students her friends. But now she wasn't so sure. Walking down the hall, she couldn’t tell who
was really her friend
and who thought she was a monkey. The feelings of uncertainty and insecurity scared her.

  "OMG, Reyna, that was such a great speech," Maggie O’Shaughnessy said through tears. She hugged Reyna then added, "I just want you to know that I don't think you're a monkey. I'm going to do everything in my power to find the people who did this and get them expelled."

  "Thanks,
Mags
," Reyna said.  Maggie wasn't the first white student to tell her this, but she still wasn't comfortable. How
was she to know what
was really in people's hearts or what they said behind closed doors?

  Reyna tried not to get emotional. She didn't want people to see her break down. Instead, she focused on righting the situation. During lunch, she sat at her computer and started writing a letter to the editor for the local newspaper. She needed to get the word out about this in order to put pressure on the school to do something. She could imagine the school trying to sweep this under the rug, hoping it would go away.

  As she typed, A.J. came barging into the office. "Reyna, you
gotta
get outside. Reporters are here. They want to talk to you."

  "What?" Reyna leapt from her seat and followed him to the front of the building. A Channel 2 news truck was parked and local reporter Stella Newman was interviewing Julie
Randazzo
. Apparently, Julie had taken a photo of the banner with her cell phone before it was taken down and sent it to the news station.

  As soon as Reyna stepped outside, all eyes turned to her. Stella Newman approached her and asked, "Are you Reyna Lewis?" Reyna nodded. "Well, as president of the MSA, what is your position on the situation?"

***

  I watched as Reyna spoke to the reporter, the epitome of grace and intelligence. I wouldn't be surprised if her interview made national headlines. It was that moving.

  "Can you believe what a big deal they're making of this?" Carson Manning asked. He was a white player on the football team, but he spent more time on the bench than anything else.

  "Who's they?" 

  "The black kids. I can't believe they're letting down their team and their school over a joke."

  "A joke?"

  "Yeah, it's just a joke. I mean, whoever did it, and I don't know who did, but whoever did it was obviously just calling Obama a monkey because of his ears. Not because he was black."

  I shook my head. "It's so much bigger than that, man. You have no idea."

  He looked at me incredulously. "So you mean you agree with them?" Carson huffed, then crossed his arms and leaned on my car. "Oh, yeah that's right. You're screwing Reyna now. Of course, you agree with them. This week anyway. You'll change your mind once you move on."

  I bit down on my lip to subdue the urge to kick his ass. I actually tasted blood. If he'd have shut up right then or walked away, things would have turned out so differently. Instead, he added, "Tell me, are niggers better in bed than —"

  He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before I was pounding his face in. A crowd formed.  Someone grabbed me by the arms and tried to pull me off of Carson, but I was too strong for them and I broke free. This gave Carson enough time to gather his bearing, however, and he was actually able to get in a few good punches.

  I heard Reyna yelling at me to stop. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the news camera had turned its attention on me.

  Finally, two football players were able to hold me back long enough to stop the fight. But ten feet away another fight had broken out between Clayton and Freddie. Then things really got bad.

***

  The principal's office wasn't big enough to hold all those involved in the parking lot brawl. Instead, we gathered in the gym. Every available faculty member came to keep the parties separate and help insure that another fight wouldn't break out. As Principal Woods gave his regular speech about how disappointed he was in us, Reyna and Doc worked furiously to clean up the cuts and bruises on the students. Over thirty students needed bandages or antiseptic or something, but I heard Doc tell Reyna to work on only the black students in order to keep the peace. It was like our little school had been suddenly transported in time to the segregated 1960s.

  I wanted her to be the one to clean up my bloody nose. We hadn't had time to speak since the revelation of the offensive banner that morning. I wanted to be close to her. I wanted to make sure that we were still okay even after all of this. I knew Reyna. I knew she was dealing with some pretty big issues in her head and I knew she liked to deal with things like that on her own. She would want to be alone for a while with her thoughts. I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want her to convince herself that it might be better for the Charleston Prep community if we weren’t together.

"This kind of behavior is unacceptable at this school," the principal was saying. "Some of you have gone to school together for twelve years. I can't believe you would let something like this come between you. This should be a time when we all come together not ...
" He
sighed as he realized no one was really paying attention to him. Everyone just eyed each other suspiciously waiting for someone to make a move and send the gym into a chaotic brawl. The tension was thicker than an overdone T-bone.

Principal Woods conferred with the assistant principal for a moment, and then announced, "Okay, this is what we're going to do. We're not going to suspend any of you." That was an obvious move. He wouldn't be able to suspend nearly the entire football team, including me, the star quarterback,
right
before the championship. Although, I think I would've welcomed a chance to get out of that game. It was going to be a disaster. I could feel it. "But we are going to send you home right now," he continued. "And you won't be able to return to school until we speak to each of your parents individually."

The teachers escorted us to our cars to make sure we left peacefully. As I drove out of Charleston Prep's parking lot, I wasn't sure where I was going. I didn't want to go home. Sam had probably already seen the story on the news. She had already called me three times. I didn't feel like listening to one of her tirades.

Noticing that the pain in my shoulder had returned, I decided to head to my doctor's appointment early.

  Reyna didn't want to go home. She knew her father had probably seen the footage of the banner and the fight on the news. While she knew he would be supportive of her feelings and probably sit down and help her sort through the backlash, she just didn't want to talk about it anymore. She needed to do something to get her mind off the awful emotions and thoughts that rambled through her mind.

  Pulling into the community center parking lot, Reyna noticed two police cars and an ambulance parked in front of Mrs. Turner's house. She got out of her car and went to make sure her elderly neighbor was all right.

  Seventy-five-year-old Josephine Turner sat on her front porch breathing into an oxygen mask while a police officer asked her questions.

  "Are you alright, Mrs. Turner?" Reyna yelled from the gate. She didn't want to enter without permission.

  Mrs. Turner waved her forward and an officer opened the gate to let her through.

  "Her daddy owns the community center next door," she explained to officer after lifting the oxygen mask.

  Reyna sat next to her on the bench and rubbed her back. "What happened?"

  "She was robbed," the officer volunteered.

  "In broad daylight, no less," Mrs. Turner said. "They just bust through the front door and took what they wanted. Who would rob an old woman?" Reyna hugged her neighbor who had started to cry softly.

  This day just kept getting worse. Reyna's chest tightened as she fought the urge to cry.

  "I tell you, this
ain't
never
gonna
happen to me again," Mrs. Turner said when her tears had subsided somewhat. "I'm
gettin
me a gun and I'm gonna protect myself. Just let those punks come back. They'll get what's
comin
’ to them for sure."

  "Mrs. Turner, returning violence with violence is not the answer."

  "Well then what is?" she asked with her hands on her hips. Reyna opened her mouth to answer then realized she didn't have an answer. The community center had been the target of robbery three times. She and her father still hadn't figured out a way to curb the crime in the area.

  Reyna helped Mrs. Turner get things in order in her house and even provided the police with some more information about the robberies that had occurred at the center. The police were convinced it was the same people.

  An hour later, she finally made it to the center and helped the other volunteers run the after school programs for the local children.  Looking at the young black elementary school kids that populated the center, she had a sudden feeling of helplessness. Reyna never felt helpless. If there was one thing Walter Lewis had installed in his daughter it was that she powerful and capable and could change the world. But after the day she'd had she wasn't so sure of that anymore. She began to feel everything was pointless. Her success at Charleston Prep hadn't curbed black stereotypes at her school. Volunteering at the center everyday of her life for six years and teaching kids to read, write, and have confidence in themselves hadn't slowed the violence in this neighborhood. In fact, it had augmented. The perpetrators of the recent robberies in this area were probably teenagers who used to sit right in the very same community center just a few years ago and received tutoring from her. What good had it done?

  "You want to talk about it?" Walter asked as Reyna entered the house that evening.

  Reyna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She shook her head.

  "Okay, well, when you're ready, I'm here."

  Reyna loved the freedom her father gave her. He never pressured her into conversations she wasn't ready for. It made it so easy to talk to him and go to him with her problems.

  "Okay, daddy."

  As Reyna climbed the stairs, the weight of the day befell her.  She had kept the controversy at arm's length all day. Looking at it kind of like a calculus problem that needed to be solved, she had not let the gravity of the situation resonate in her mind. All at once it hit her and she couldn't hold it in any longer.

  She opened her bedroom door to find Scottie waiting for her just as a torrent of tears issued forth.