by Nic Stone
What I do know: I just went from being one of three black students in a class of 82 to one of…well, very, very few in a much larger number. Yeah, Garrett Tison is gone, but like Mr. Julian said, the world is full of people who will always see me as inferior. Roomie Roosevelt just proved that.
I keep coming back to something Doc said during “Thug-Gate”: If nothing ever changes, what type of man am I gonna be? Chewing on that over the past few days, I’ve started to wonder if maybe my experiment failed because I was asking the wrong damn question.
Every challenge I’ve faced, it’s been What would Martin do? and I could never come up with a real answer. But if I go with Doc’s thinking—Who would Martin BE?—well, that’s easy: you’d be yourself. THE eminent MLK: nonviolent, not easily discouraged, and firm in your beliefs.
And maybe that’s my problem: I haven’t really figured out who I am or what I believe yet.
I found this letter you wrote the editor of the Atlanta Constitution where you said, “We (as in Black people) want and are entitled to the basic rights and opportunities of American citizens…” It’s from 1946, which means you were seventeen when you wrote it. That’s the same age I was when I had that exact thought for the first time.
Not sure if you were the Martin the world is familiar with by seventeen (prolly not, right?), but knowing you were my age gives me hope that maybe I’ve got some time to figure things out.
At least I hope I do. If not, this is gonna be a long four years. Hell, a long rest of my life.
Anyway, I gotta run. SJ and I have a train to catch.
Thanks for everything.
Until we meet again,
Justyce
There’s already someone standing over Manny’s grave as Justyce approaches. Part of him wants to turn around, go sit in his car until the person leaves—but he knows that’s not what Manny would want him to do.
“ ’Sup, dawg?” Jus says as he steps up.
EMMANUEL JULIAN RIVERS
BELOVED SON
“YOU HAVE SORROW NOW, BUT I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN,
AND YOUR HEARTS WILL REJOICE.”
Jared looks at Justyce, and then back at the headstone. He wipes his eyes. “How’s it goin’, man?”
“Sorry for interrupting,” Jus says.
“It’s cool. Kinda nice to have someone else here. Merry Christmas, by the way.”
“Same to you.”
Jared exhales. It fogs up the air in front of his face. “I still miss him so much, dude,” he says, his voice breaking. “It’s been almost a year and I still just can’t—I’m sorry, man, you don’t wanna hear all this.”
“Nah, it’s cool.” Now Jus’s eyes are moist. “I understand, man. I really do.”
“He’s never gonna visit me at college or be my best man, you know?” Jared shakes his head. “When I first got to the dorms, my roommate was already set up in our room. Guy looks up at me and goes ‘ ’Sup, homie? Name’s Amir Tsarfati. Call me A.T.’ ”
The impression Jared does makes Justyce laugh. A.T. was his chem lab partner this past semester.
“Anyway, he’s got some music on, and I kid you not, Justyce, the guy’s playlist went from Deuce Diggs to Carrie Underwood.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, bro. I thought to myself, ‘Manny would love this guy.’ ” He sighs again. “It’s just hard. My grandma died when I was a kid, and my mom told me, ‘She lives on inside of everyone who loved her.’ Prolly sounds stupid, but I really want that to be true about Manny. It’s why I come here every time I’m home. He was my first real friend. I thought we’d grow old together and shit, you know?”
Jus doesn’t respond. There’s nothing to say.
For a few minutes they stand in silence. Then: “It’s good to see you, man,” Jared says.
“You too, dawg.” And Jus really means it.
“Is it weird that we don’t see each other at school more?”
Jus shrugs. “It is a pretty big place.”
“That’s true. How do you think you did in Marroni’s class?”
“I did all right. Probably A-minus at the worst.”
“Figures.” Jared looks at Jus and grins.
Which makes Jus smile. Just a little.
“So…” Jus clears his throat. “Did you pick a major yet?”
“I did,” Jared says. “I decided I wanna go into civil rights law instead of business—”
“You did?”
“Yeah. My dad just about shit himself when I told him. Anyway, I took an Intro to African American Studies course, and it really blew me away, dude. I’m thinking about minoring in it.”
“Damn. That’s pretty dope,” Jus says. “So you’re liking Yale overall, then?”
“Loving it. How ’bout you, man? You enjoying it so far?”
“For the most part. My roommate’s kind of an asshole, but you can’t win ’em all, I guess.”
“Carothers, right?”
“That’s him.”
Jared nods. “He was in my calc class. I’ve heard some things. Your suitemates are cool, though?”
“Yeah. They’re great. Prolly wouldn’t survive without those fools.”
Jared laughs. “That’s awesome. Mine are cool too.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“So how’s SJ?”
Jus can’t help but smile now. “She’s great, man. Loving New York.”
“You two still going strong?”
“Oh yeah. That girl is gonna have my babies one day, dawg.”
Jared laughs even harder. “Awesome.”
“Don’t tell her I said that. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“You got a girl up there yet?”
“Nah, bro. Lotta fish in that Ivy sea. Can’t limit myself.”
Jus snorts. “You sound like Manny.”
“Pffft. I wish. That dude was a titan with the ladies.”
“He really was.”
They settle into a comfortable silence, both staring at the headstone. A cool wind blows around them, and it’s like Jus can feel the EJR on his watchband pressing into the skin of his once-swollen wrist.
“We should chill sometime,” Jus says. “You could come with me to New York one weekend or somethin’.”
There’s a beat and then: “I’d really like that, Justyce.” Jared turns to Jus and smiles.
Jus reads the words on Manny’s headstone: I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice. “Me too, Jared,” he says. “Me too.”
It goes without saying that a lot of time and effort and energy went into this project. My list of thanks to those most directly involved:
1. God—for everything.
2. Nigel—for believing in me and taking care of the children.
3. Pop, Marcus, Jeff, Jason, Jordan, Rachel W., Tanya, Shani, Becky, Reintgen, Michael, Ange, Jay, Wesaun, Elijah, Sarah H., Brandy, Dhonielle, Brendan, Ryy—for reading and encouraging.
4. Jodi—for…honestly there’s way too much to list, so I’m gonna go with for YOU.
5. Dede—for pushing and praying.
6. Jordan (again)—for keeping me on my toes.
7. Rena—for being my fairy god-agent AND my friend, and never letting me get ahead of myself. And letting me be annoying. And stubborn.
8. Elizabeth—for helping Phoebe rip me a new one.
9. Phoebe—for making me cut the thing in half and talking me down from multiple ledges. And for still loving me when I was being a jackass. (Seriously could not ask for a better editor, good lord.)
10. Mom and Dad—for making me.
11. Kiran and Milo—for being the reasons I do any of this.
12. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.—for starting the fire. I hope I stoked the flames so it continues to burn.
Nic Stone was born and raised in a suburb of Atlanta, and the only thing she loves more than an adventure is a good story about one. After graduating from Spelman College, she went on to work
extensively in teen mentoring and lived in Israel for a few years before returning to the United States to write full-time. Growing up with a wide range of cultures, religions, and backgrounds, Stone strives to bring these diverse voices and stories to her work.
Dear Martin is her first novel and is loosely based on a series of true events involving the shooting deaths of unarmed African American teenagers. Shaken by the various responses to these incidents—and to the pro-justice movement that sprang up as a result—Stone began the project in an attempt to examine current affairs through the lens of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s teachings.
Stone lives in Atlanta with her husband and two sons. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram at @getnicced or on her website at nicstone.info.
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