This Side of Home (13 page)

I take out something to write with and open my notebook.

Mrs. Armstrong takes the cap off a dry-erase marker and begins writing a list on the board.

Samuel Cornish

John Brown Russwurm

Frederick Douglass

W. E. B. DuBois

Ida B. Wells

Ethel L. Payne

Nancy Hicks Maynard

Karl Fleming

Bernie Foster

Mrs. Armstrong turns around and snaps the top back on the pen. She leans against her desk, sitting on its edge. “These are names I want you to know. And I don't just want you to regurgitate information back to me. I want you to tell me why, out of all the people you could know, am I asking you to find out about them.”

The bell rings and we rush to the door.

“I want photos, quotes, facts. Who are these people? Why should we know them?” Mrs. Armstrong says.

I know I could work on this tonight when I get home, but I'm curious to know who these people are. I mean, I know who Fredrick Douglass is. I know that he was a former slave who started a black antislavery newspaper called
The North Star
. I'm assuming that the rest of the people on the list have something to do with journalism.

I go to the library and ask Mrs. Butler if I can use the computer. “I've got some research to do,” I tell her.

“On the computer?” she asks. “I expect more thorough research from you.”

“It's just to get me started,” I say.

Mrs. Butler smiles.

I sit down at a computer and randomly pick a name off the list.

Ethel L. Payne.

She was known as the First Lady of the Black Press and gave a voice to the civil rights movement by writing articles about the Montgomery Bus Boycott; the desegregation of a high school in Little Rock, Arkansas; the protests in Birmingham and Selma, Alabama; and the March on Washington in 1963. In 1973 when she took the job as a commentator for CBS, she became the first black woman to become employed by a national broadcast.

I scribble these facts in my notebook.

I can hear Mrs. Armstrong saying, “Don't just tell me what. Tell me why.”

Nothing is ever simple with Mrs. Armstrong, so it
has to be more than just the fact that Ethel L. Payne was a journalist.

I read over my notes, look for the answer.

I walk out of the library armed with my notes on Ethel L. Payne and the extra articles about her that Mrs. Butler let me print. After begging with her, she even let me print a photo.

There's about ten minutes of lunch left, so I make my way to the cafeteria to get a bag of chips out of the vending machine.

I see Star walking toward me. “There you are. I just asked Nikki if she knew where you were.”

“Library,” I say. “Got an early start on some homework.” I hold up the picture of Ethel L. Payne. Under her photo, there's a short bio about her.

We walk down the quiet hallway. Star sighs. “Are you going—” She stops in the middle of her sentence and starts a new one. “Do you see that?” Star stops
walking and stands in front of a sign hanging on the wall.

WE ALREADY KNOW YOUR HISTORY

“Seriously? Who is putting up these ridiculous posters?” Star reaches to take it down.

I grab her hand. “Don't,” I tell her. I look around to see if anyone is looking. I think I hear footsteps, but then no one comes, so I hold up the printout and say, “Let's put this one up right next to it.”

Star hesitates, then smiles. She looks around, too, and then says, “Hold on.” She eases the sign off the wall and tears the tape in half. “Here we go.” Star takes my printout and hangs it on the wall next to the poster. Then she reaches into her bag and takes out a pen.

“What are you doing?”

Star doesn't answer me. She just starts writing.

DO YOU KNOW HER?

I hear footsteps and voices.

Star and I run down the hall.

The bell rings and students flood out of the cafeteria.

We blend in and walk with them to our next class, trying to catch our breath, our chests rising and rising.

It looks too dark to be only three-thirty in the afternoon. Rain must be coming. I'm so glad Tony drove to school today. “So are you going to sing at the assembly?” Tony asks.

I'm in the backseat next to Nikki. Kate is in the front. Kate turns and looks at me. “That would be so cool if you sang. I hear you and Nikki both can sing really well.”

“I'm not singing at that assembly,” I tell them.

Nikki shakes her head in disappointment. “What, are you going to boycott again?”

“You can sing,” I say.

“Principal Green didn't ask me to sing. He asked you.”

“He won't care what token black girl sings the
black national anthem. He just wants something that represents us colored folk.” I laugh. Tony looks like he wants to laugh, too. But he doesn't.

Kate doesn't seem to know what to do. “Are you really the only black person on the program?”

“Well, I'm not on the program. But, yes, pretty much. He's having representatives from each culture or race, or whatever he wants to call it, on the program. It feels, I don't know, it feels—”

“Forced?” Kate asks.

“Exactly.”

Nikki shakes her head again.

And I can't believe that Kate seems to get it more than she does.

“I just want to hear you sing,” Tony says. “So since you're not going to perform at the assembly, how about we get a song right now.” He looks at me through the rearview mirror.

I look at Nikki. “Only if you sing with me,” I say.

Nikki says, “Okay. I'll sing.”

Tony's eyes get happy, and Kate sits up straighter in her seat.

Nikki and I count off and then we serenade them with the song we always sing when people put us on the spot. “A-B-C-D-E-F-G—”

Tony and Kate laugh. Tony says, “That's so wrong. So very wrong.”

“But I have to say, if you sound this good singing the ABCs, I can't imagine how good you really are,” Kate says.

Tony turns on the radio. “Guess we'll have to listen to this, since we can't get any live music,” he says. “Just promise me that I'll get to hear you really sing one day.” He looks at me again and I almost answer him, promise him, but then I feel Nikki looking at us, picking up our vibe with her twin sister magic.

I don't say anything. I look out the window, watch the changing sky.

The poster war has been going on for a week. Star and I had no idea one little sign would cause all this drama. I guess in a way we started it, but we have no idea who's keeping it going. The dismissal bell rings, releasing us for the weekend. It's Friday, and even the teachers seem eager to get out of here.

On my way to my locker I see students standing around the poster of Ethel L. Payne. Principal Green is standing in the middle of the mob yelling, “Who did this? Who did this?”

I strain to see the poster. Someone has marked up Ethel's face, and on the borders of the poster the words
fat
and
ugly
are written over and over.

Vince calls out, “He did it! I saw him.” He points
to Devin, who is holding a black Sharpie in his hand, along with poster board paper.

“This is for my presentation!” Devin shouts. He throws the oversize paper down and reaches into his bag. He pulls out a handout from our science class. “See, we have to make a poster about—”

“I saw him do it!” Vince repeats.

Devin yells back at him, and they start cursing at each other over who's lying. Then Principal Green tells Devin, “Come with me.”

“For what? I didn't do anything! How are you going to take his word over mine?”

The yelling and cursing is contagious. Students scream at Principal Green and at one another, taking sides. It's too loud to make out what anyone is saying, but over all the hollering, one word cuts through the noise.

“Nigger!”

I don't know whose lips spewed the word, but I know it came from behind me. When I turn around, Bags, Joey, Vince, and Tony are standing there, the four of them looking around like they're trying to find out who said it.

I have heard that word before. Mostly in documentaries about the civil rights movement. This is the first time I've heard the word in real life. The
first time the
er
is at the end. Pronounced clearly and precise enough to cut. This is the first time it's been said in my presence to communicate hate.

I've heard it on my block when boys greet each other, when the
er
is replaced by an
a
. When it's a word of solidarity and brotherhood. I've heard it in lyrics when it's a word of pride, when it's a word black people have taken back, taken the negative power of it and reshaped it into something good. But Dad says it was never our word so it's not something we can take back. He says it will always symbolize a beaten slave, a hanging noose, a burning cross.

That word hangs in the hallway like black men's bodies hung from trees. It lingers and struggles and chokes out all the air. It is a word that suffocates. It is a word that makes me see Confederate flags and a bloated Emmett Till sinking in dirty water.

I feel hot all over. Angry tears fight their way down my face, falling slow and reluctantly. I have to get out of here. I turn around to leave and see Tasha walking over to Tony.

“I know you didn't just say what I think you said!” Tasha shouts. She gets in Tony's face.

“What? That wasn't me! I didn't, I—”

“Everybody settle down right now. Right now!” Principal Green stands between Tasha and Tony.
“Everyone out of the building. Everyone. It's time to go home,” Principal Green says. He looks at Devin. “Young man, you make your way to my office.”

“He ain't got to go to your office?” Tasha asks, staring at Tony.

“Out of the building now!” Principal Green says.

All the commotion has brought other teachers to the hallway. Just as they start moving everyone toward the exit, Devin barges through the crowd. “I'm not going to your office if they don't have to go.” He points to Vince, Bags, Joey, and Tony. “I'm going home. I didn't do anything.”

“Devin! Devin!” Principal Green is not going to win. Devin walks out the door.

Students are still standing in the hallway, yelling and telling each other what just happened, as if we all didn't just experience it.

“Did you see that?”

“I know he wrote it!”

“I heard him say it.”

“Principal Green is a sellout.”

Tony grabs my hand. “Let's get out of here,” he says.

I snatch my hand from his grasp.

“I think we should go,” he says.

“I'm coming,” I yell over the noise. I follow him,
walking through the crowd, forging my way, bumping up against backpacks, squeezing myself through the groups who refuse to move.

Teachers start ushering us out one door, not letting anyone go anywhere except outside. “And go home. Don't loiter around the building,” a teacher says.

“Come on, move it along,” another teacher calls out. “This way, this way.” He holds a door open and calls us toward him with his hand.

Tony and I walk outside. He is walking so fast in front of me, I can barely keep up. The sidewalk is crowded. We cross the street and wait for Nikki and Kate to come out. “You didn't want to hold my hand?” Tony yells. I've never heard him yell before.

“Tony, did you see what just happened in there? I mean, really, are you crazy or something? This is not the time for holding hands.” I look for Nikki and Kate. No sign of them.

“Have you told your friends about us?” he asks. Still yelling.

“Tony, stop making a scene,” I say.

“Have you told
anyone
? Nikki? Essence? Anyone?”

“This is not the time or place to talk about it.”

“Are you ashamed of us?”

“Tony, stop yelling at me and stop asking me questions.”

“No. I want you to answer me. Why wouldn't you hold my hand?”

“I didn't want—”

“People to know we're together?”

“Do you really think it's a good idea to take my hand after what you've been accused of?”

“I didn't say it!”

“That's not the point. My point is our relationship is not some kind of statement. I didn't want to bring attention to the two of us. I don't want drama.”

“Well, if Devin hadn't vandalized the school there wouldn't have been—”

“He didn't do it.”

“Common sense says the person holding the marker is the one who wrote on the wall!”

Most students clear out and make their way home by foot or bus. Tasha comes outside and leans against the school wall. I wonder who she is waiting for and why she is staring at me. She doesn't even care that I see her looking. It's almost like she wants me to say something to her, but instead I just keep talking to Tony.

“Look, Devin didn't do it. I know him,” I repeat.

“You don't know everything about him,” Tony says.

“I know him better than I know you.”

My words sting Tony's eyes. “What are you saying? You don't, you don't believe me?”

“I'm saying I believe you both.”

“Are you? Because you have to know I would never—”

“I know.”

Nikki and Kate finally come out of the building. I see Tasha say something to Nikki before they cross the street.

On our way walking home, Tony is walking ahead of us all, and Kate is quietly trailing behind him. Nikki and I are walking side by side. I say to Nikki, real low, “What did Tasha say to you?”

She makes sure Kate and Tony can't hear her, then says, “Blood is thicker than water.”