Each Tiny Spark

by Pablo Cartaya

  “Dude, you really need to stop talking,” Richie says. I can tell that Jay is intimidated by Richie right now because he just goes quiet.

  “Mr. Richt,” Richie continues. “I don’t understand how Merryville residents were talking about a ‘Park View problem.’ I mean, I play ball at the rec center with kids from Park View and Merryville.”

  “That’s right,” Mr. Richt says. “The rec center is for everybody who lives in the city of Merryville.”

  “I just don’t get why people are so upset that a few kids from Park View might come to our school next year,” Richie says.

  “But not all Park View kids want to come to Merryville, Richie,” Lacey adds. “Like TJ.”

  Barry mumbles something and Mr. Richt asks him to speak up.

  “I don’t know,” Barry starts. “It’s hard enough to be noticed with this many kids at Merryville. I feel like some of us might get even more lost.”

  “We’ll look out for each other, B,” Gus says. “Right, Emilia?”

  I nod and smile at Barry.

  When the class goes quiet, Clarissa waves both of her arms in the air. “Mr. Richt, may I speak now?”

  “Go ahead, Miss Anderson.”

  Clarissa stands up and addresses the class like she’s running for president or something.

  “That’s exactly why Merryville schools and Park View schools should stay as they are. Should we deny someone like TJ McMillian the right to stay at his school and play football on the team his daddy coaches?” Clarissa sounds polite, but her words are sharp. “We all live in the community and enjoy the things we have. Why change something that’s good? All the redistricting is going to do is create more anger and division among the decent, law-abiding citizens of Merryville. Thank you.”

  Clarissa sits down and organizes the pencils and markers on her desk. She looks like nothing in the world is bothering her.

  That’s when Gus and I know it’s the right time.

  “Ready?”

  “Sí,” Gus says. I raise my hand and ask if we can present our video.

  “Let’s see what you have for us, Miss Torres and Mr. Sánchez.”

  Clarissa’s hand shoots up in the air, but Mr. Richt stops her before she can speak.

  “You’ve already had a chance to say your piece, Miss Anderson.”

  Gus takes out his camera to connect it to the classroom projector. I help by connecting the HDMI cable to the camera.

  Mr. Richt turns the lights off, and we press play.

  SCHOOL BOARD REDISTRICTING & THE FACES OF MERRYVILLE’S PARK VIEW NEIGHBORHOOD:

  Directors

  Gustavo Sánchez & Emilia Torres

  Sixth-Grade Social Studies, Mr. Richt

  I face the camera with the Park View playground behind me. Gus pauses to take shots of the surrounding neighborhood. When he gets back to me, he counts down with his fingers so I know when to begin.

  Me: Hi! We’re here in Park View and we wanted to check in on the residents about the proposed redistricting and pending vote that will impact many students next year.

  I walk over to the playground, where Mr. Jackson is sitting on a bench, watching his granddaughters. He kindly agreed to be interviewed for our segment.

  Me: Hello, Mr. Jackson.

  Mr. Jackson: Hello there.

  Me: Could you please let us know a bit about yourself and what your thoughts are on the current school redistricting and the vote coming up?

  Mr. Jackson: Oh, well, of course. My name is Darren Jackson, and I have lived in Merryville for over forty years. Started my career working at the federal bank and later at the Kmart corporation. Then I retired and worked as a driver on a part-time basis. My wife, Ana Beth, passed away about thirteen months ago, and now I live with my daughter, Sherry; my son-in-law, Mark; and these two young granddaughters right here, Shaneen and Lisa.

  Me: And what do you think about the school redistricting, Mr. Jackson?

  Mr. Jackson: You know, I think it’s fine. It’d be good, actually, because my daughter keeps fussing about me walking the girls to and from school because she thinks it’s pretty far. It’s not that far, but if the girls get transferred, it might be good.

  Me: Why would it be good, Mr. Jackson?

  Mr. Jackson: Well, it’ll get my daughter off my back about walking so far, that’s for one!

  I laugh along with Mr. Jackson. He pauses as Shaneen and Lisa ask him to come back and play.

  Mr. Jackson: You know, the thing is, young lady, the actual redistricting stuff is fine, but it hurts when you hear folks talking about kids being dangerous or bad for the community. I mean, do these girls look dangerous to you?

  Me: No, sir.

  Mr. Jackson: I don’t want folks thinking of my granddaughters that way, you understand?

  Me: Yes, sir, I do.

  Mr. Jackson says goodbye and Gus films him lifting his grandkids onto the swings one by one. Our next interview is with Don Felix. He’s wearing his white chef coat and expertly slicing the fat off a juicy red churrasco.

  Don Felix: Pero nunca tuve hijos, mi’ja.

  Don Felix says he loves this community and if he’d had kids, he would’ve been happy to send them to either one of the schools in Merryville. He was older when he came to Atlanta for work, and never had any children. But he’s loved working and living here most of his adult life.

  Don Felix helped build Atlanta into the international city it is today, starting way back during the Olympics. Atlanta wouldn’t be what it is without his contribution, and neither would Park View. He finishes slicing the skirt steak and places it neatly on the display. Even the meat looks better with Don Felix’s perfect slices.

  The next interview we film is with Agustín. Gus hardly cuts anything because he declares that “everything Agustín says is awesome.”

  Agustín: Look, I get it. People get scared about change. When I was younger, you should have seen the way people treated my family. Exaggerating their English to make sure we understood. Eyeing us suspiciously the second we walked into a restaurant or a store. Park View doesn’t do that. We look out for each other. Sure, we have our quirks, like that guy who keeps chickens and an obnoxious rooster in his yard, and it’s hard to play soccer and not send a ball into a windshield with all the cars parked everywhere. But it’s home, you know? If everyone in this whole town looked out for one another, like as one big neighborhood, then we’d be stronger. It doesn’t all have to be one homogenous population. It can be varied. That’s what makes a community great.

  Gus pans the camera up and down to show that he agrees with everything Agustín says.

  Next we grab footage of Agustín’s sister, Amanda, who lists a whole bunch of statistics, including one about Latino buying power. Agustín was right. She is a genius.

  Amanda: Georgia residents in immigrant-led households have nineteen point two billion in spending power after tax income. Nineteen. Point. Two. Billion. That was a few years ago. Now it’s probably more. So tell me, how are immigrants bad for the economy? We’re not a “strain” on resources. Give me a break! Also, we literally live ten blocks away from Main Street. People are talking about the Merryville community as if we’re not part of it.

  But back to your question. If I’m one of the ones who has to transfer, I’m going to have to start all over. I won’t have time to build relationships with teachers at the new school. I’m graduating in two years. How is it going to look on my college applications? I think what we’re missing is giving kids a choice about their education. Is that a lot to ask for?

  We interview several other students, like TJ, who adds that he doesn’t want to be separated from his girlfriend.

  We also interview Mrs. Loretta. She says she and her kids will benefit from the redistricting because she’ll be able to ride into work with them and pick them
up at a regular time.

  Mrs. Loretta: But this isn’t just about me and what’s good for my family. It’s about what’s good for the community. You know, every time I get excited about real change coming that’ll benefit everyone, some fools go on and make it about themselves. We are all part of the same community, are we not? This is just plain silly.

  We managed to track down the woman from the restaurant (her name is Alma) and she echoes what Mr. Jackson said.

  Alma: People are saying it’s going to be dangerous. ¿Peligroso? ¿Para quién?

  The last interview is with Gus. He didn’t want to. He said a filmmaker speaks through his movies, but he also has a voice that should be heard. The film cuts to the woods as Gus stands near the old gazebo. My hand is wobbly—not steady like his. My feet snap branches as I get close to Gus. It sounds like I’m stepping on a carpet of yucca chips. I ask Gus to tell me what he thinks.

  Gus: Sometimes it feels like I’m caught in the middle. I live right on the edge of Park View and Merryville. I go to school in Merryville, but I spend a lot of time in Park View outside of school. I guess that puts me in a place to see both sides. I see how crowded Park View schools are and I see how people from Merryville forget about it. I don’t blame the students who don’t want to leave, ’cause Park View is really cool. But Merryville has pretty great stuff too. Like the library! I think maybe we all just have to listen to one another more. That’s the point of this video, right?

  After the final interview, we include footage from the last two weeks. What we notice is that everything we filmed, with the exception of the library, was shot in and around Park View. The woods, the people, the grocery store—it all centered on a place that was being left out of the conversation.

  END VIDEO

  Mr. Richt flips on the lights. He doesn’t show a lot of emotion, but I can tell he’s happy by the way he nods.

  “You got the file there, Mr. Sánchez?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You mind if I post that video to the Merryville Middle YouTube channel?”

  “Seriously?”

  We’re shocked.

  “I thought we were just supposed to watch the meeting and take notes,” Clarissa says.

  “They were there,” Mr. Richt says. “And they decided to contribute to the class discussion with a video. All within the rules.”

  “Why do you want to post it, Mr. Richt?” I ask.

  “Our community should have access to this information and these stories.”

  “I’m going to share this video,” Richie says.

  Lacey agrees and says she’s going to tell her mom, who works at the local news station.

  “Nice job, G,” Barry says.

  “We have to be active participants in what goes on in our community,” Mr. Richt says. “I’m proud of all of you for participating in this discussion.”

  * * *

  When the bell rings, my focus is razor sharp. It’s like I can see everything in slow motion.

  I tell Gus I’ll catch up with him later. I have to retake my math test. When I get to the classroom, Barry is also retaking a test.

  “Hey, Barry!”

  “What’s up, Emi? Are you retaking too? Ms. Brennen said I could have more time to finish.”

  “It totally helps, right?”

  “Yeah. I get nervous when I see the whole class finishing before me.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  We sit quietly. No pressure.

  When I’m finished, Ms. Brennen grades it right there in front of me.

  “B-plus,” she says. “Nice improvement, Emilia.”

  “Thank you for letting me retake it, Ms. Brennen.”

  “We all deserve a second chance now and again, right?”

  Barry gives me a thumbs-up before continuing his work.

  “Take as much time as you need, Barry,” Ms. Brennen says.

  * * *

  After lunch, I bump into Clarissa in the hall.

  “I’m just never going to understand why you would want to be on that side of the fight,” she says.

  “There doesn’t have to be a fight or sides if you don’t want there to be, Clarissa.”

  There’s a moment of silence between us. Clarissa fidgets with her bracelet and I notice the charm on it she’s had since we were kids.

  “First grade was so hard,” I say, pointing to her charm. “I remember when you got pulled out of class to hear the news about your dad.”

  Clarissa continues to play with her bracelet.

  “You didn’t return that day or the rest of the week. My papi was on one of his first tours, and I realized in that moment that I could’ve been the one who got asked to go to the principal’s office to hear the thing you never want to hear.”

  Clarissa’s lips quiver, but she still doesn’t say anything. For once, she just listens, so I continue.

  “When you came back, you looked like you were lost in the woods without any sense of how to come home.”

  Clarissa nods. Tears stream steadily down her face.

  “And we started talking to each other about random things, like what was the best ice cream flavor at Jimmy’s Diner or how many hot dogs we could eat in one sitting.”

  Her lips curl up, but her expression is still mostly sad.

  “Then you began to open up,” I say. “Every time you talked about your dad, I became scared but also relieved that my dad was still out there.”

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “I don’t hate you, Clarissa,” I tell her.

  “I considered you my friend, Emi Rose.”

  “Well,” I say, “I’ll always thank you for those memories.”

  “Me too,” she says. “But I still don’t agree with you.” She hesitates for a moment, like she’s going to say something else. But instead she turns around to leave.

  “Oh, and, Clarissa?” I say loudly as she walks in the opposite direction.

  “Yeah?”

  “My name is Emilia Rosa.”

  It’s hard to muster the energy, but my family decides to attend a small festival that’s happening in town over the weekend. Mami has been home for a few days and that’s what she wants to do. The festival celebrates the anniversary of when the railroad was built over seventy-five years ago.

  “I read at the library about how towns used to be divided by train tracks.”

  “Yeah?” Papi says to me.

  “Living on one side could mean a person was ‘on the wrong side of the tracks.’ Like they weren’t as good as the people living on the ‘right’ side.”

  “No me gusta ese dicho.” Abuela does not care for that phrase.

  “Neither do I,” I say. “The only ‘wrong side’ is the side where people don’t care about one another.”

  Mami squeezes my hand and Papi puts his arm over my shoulders.

  “What do you think?” Papi asks.

  “I think we got a fighter,” Mami says, gently nudging me into Papi.

  “¡Mira!” Abuela points to a food truck on the corner. The side says MI’PANA, and it has a picture of something that looks an awful lot like a hamburger, but it’s actually a burger with a juicy chorizo patty, manchego cheese, lettuce, and tomato. At the window, I see Don Carlos taking orders while Don Felix cooks. He waves at us and Abuela turns as red as the meat in Don Felix’s display case.

  Farther down the street, Barry’s dad cooks up barbecue at a booth. There’s a huge line of people waiting. We stop over to say hello. Mr. Johnson waves while Barry fixes plates for everyone.

  “How y’all doing, familia Torres?”

  “Doin’ all right, Trey,” my dad says. “Smells as amazing as always.”

  “Man, I tell you, thank goodness for these festivals. Folks love this food!”

  “They
sure do. How’s the loan application coming along for your restaurant?”

  “It’s coming,” Mr. Johnson says. “Slow, but what can we do? At least these festivals bring in some money.”

  “Yep,” Papi says. “Well, you let me know if I can help in any way.”

  “You bet. Hey, come by the house on Sunday after church. We’re having a small cookout. Just close friends and family.”

  Papi nods. “We’ll be there.”

  It’s the first invitation he’s accepted since he’s returned. Mr. Johnson cuts off a little piece of meat and hands it to me. I take a bite and it’s like the world slows down so I can savor every bit of tangy, homemade sauce.

  “So great,” I say between bites.

  Mami starts to sing as we walk down the street.

  “What are you singing, Mami?”

  “Just an old song from Cuba. Bet you’ll never guess where it comes from?”

  “From the Yoruba?”

  “You got it,” she says.

  She sings another verse before she says, “I’m so happy here with my family.” I take her hand so she knows I feel the same way too. “Mi amor, the Bay Area has so many great places to explore. I want us all to visit so you can see how cool it is!”

  I try not to say anything as we walk. Papi and Abuela seem to be doing the same. I guess we’re letting Mom have the excitement she deserves.

  She’s been talking nonstop about San Francisco even though she hasn’t accepted the job offer. I overheard her telling my dad about her potential salary and benefits and the great schools. I’m still not sure how I feel about it, because it’s all happening at once. Maybe life happens that way sometimes. One minute, it’s like it’s always been, and the next, you realize how different everything has become.

  The bandstand on Main Street is decked out with mini train sets and there are booths everywhere selling locally made products. The school pep band warms up in the corner, with kids running all around, but I don’t see Clarissa.