Slave Day
Page 1
Thanks to Jeff DeMouy, Jenny Ziegler, Michael Conathan, Robert Young, Bob and Diana Thomas, Christine Edwards, Greg McCormack, Loyd Blankenship, Humphrey Brown, Olivier Bourgoin, Kim Ruiz, Anne Moss, Elena Blanco, and Cathy Gruhn. Belated thank-yous to Patty Aitken and John McCartney. Special thanks to David Gale, Jennifer Robinson, and Russell Smith.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1997 by Rob Thomas
Title page illustrations copyright © 1997 by Aaron Meshon
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster.
Book design by Anahid Hamparian
The text for this book is set in 11-point Revival.
First Edition
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Thomas, Rob.
Slave Day / by Rob Thomas.
p. cm.
Summary: Relates the events of a southern high school’s “Slave Day” auction and fund-raiser, which leads students, teachers, and even community members to rethink their approaches to their lives.
ISBN 0-689-80206-4
ISBN: 978-1-4424-6809-2 (ebook)
[1. High schools—Fiction. 2. Schools—fiction. 3. Race relations—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.T36935S1 1997 [Fic]—dc20 96-24617 CIP AC
For Doug Chappell—wish you were here
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Keene Davenport 7:02 A.M.
Chapter 2: Brendan Young 7:22 A.M.
Chapter 3: Jenny Robinson 7:25 A.M.
Chapter 4: Mr. Twilley 7:51 A.M.
Chapter 5: Clint Defreisz 8:12 A.M.
Chapter 6: Tommy Parks 8:35 A.M.
Chapter 7: Shawn Greeley 8:42 A.M.
Chapter 8: Brendan 9:03 A.M. First Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 9: Keene 9:05 A.M. First Period, English
Chapter 10: Mr. Twilley 9:31 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 11: Clint 9:32 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 12: Tiffany Delvoe 9:34 A.M. Assembly Period, Downtown
Chapter 13: Jenny 9:35 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 14: Tommy 9:36 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 15: Shawn 9:36 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 16: Mr. Twilley 9:41 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 17: Tommy 9:45 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 18: Mr. Twilley 9:47 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 19: Tommy 9:48 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 20: Brendan 9:49 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 21: Keene 9:49 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 22: Shawn 9:52 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 23: Keene 9:53 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 24: Clint 10:10 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 25: Jenny 10:17 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 26: Clint 10:19 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 27: Jenny 10:20 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 28: Tiffany 10:24 A.M. Assembly Period, Parking lot
Chapter 29: Brendan 10:27 A.M. Assembly Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 30: Keene 10:32 A.M. Passing Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 31: Mr. Twilley 10:34 A.M. Passing Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 32: Tiffany 10:37 A.M. Passing Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 33: Shawn 10:38 A.M. Passing Period, Gymnasium
Chapter 34: Clint 10:38 A.M. Passing Period, Outside the Gym
Chapter 35: Brendan 10:44 A.M. Second Period, Computer Science
Chapter 36: Jenny 10:46 A.M. Second Period, Algebra
Chapter 37: Mr. Twilley 10:46 A.M. Second Period, World History
Chapter 38: Keene 10:51 A.M. Second Period, Trigonometry
Chapter 39: Tommy 10:52 A.M. Second Period, Drama
Chapter 40: Tiffany 11:02 A.M. Passing Period, Social Studies Hallway
Chapter 41: Shawn 11:02 A.M. Passing Period, Social Studies Hallway
Chapter 42: Brendan 11:04 A.M. Passing Period, Senior Hallway
Chapter 43: Tommy 11:05 A.M. Third Period, Steps to Drama Room
Chapter 44: Clint 11:11 A.M. Third Period, Field House
Chapter 45: Tiffany 11:14 A.M. Third Period, Government
Chapter 46: Tommy 11:19 A.M. Third Period, Library
Chapter 47: Brendan 11:22 A.M. Third Period, Yearbook
Chapter 48: Keene 11:29 A.M. Third Period, Typing
Chapter 49: Jenny 11:32 A.M. Third Period, Yearbook
Chapter 50: Keene 11:39 A.M. Third Period, Library
Chapter 51: Clint 11:47 A.M. Third Period, Field House
Chapter 52: Jenny 11:49 A.M. Third Period, Yearbook
Chapter 53: Tiffany 11:55 A.M. Third Period, Government
Chapter 54: Clint 11:56 A.M. Passing Period, Near Field House
Chapter 55: Shawn 11:56 A.M. Passing Period, Flagpole
Chapter 56: Jenny 11:58 A.M. Passing Period, Flagpole
Chapter 57: Mr. Twilley 12:02 P.M. Fourth Period, Teacher’s Lounge
Chapter 58: Shawn 12:07 P.M. Fourth Period, Art
Chapter 59: Brendan 12:14 P.M. Fourth Period, Tiffany’s Probe
Chapter 60: Tommy 12:21 P.M. Fourth Period, Auto Shop
Chapter 61: Keene 12:24 P.M. Fourth Period, Government
Chapter 62: Jenny 12:33 P.M. Fourth Period, English
Chapter 63: Tiffany 12:51 P.M. Fourth Period, the University of Texas at Austin
Chapter 64: Mr. Twilley 12:57 P.M. Lunch, Auto Shop
Chapter 65: Clint 1:06 P.M. Lunch, Bonanza
Chapter 66: Jenny 1:12 P.M. Lunch, Bonanza
Chapter 67: Tommy 1:25 P.M. Lunch, Theater
Chapter 68: Clint 1:26 P.M. Lunch, Bonanza
Chapter 69: Jenny 1:28 P.M. Lunch, Bonanza
Chapter 70: Shawn 1:29 P.M. Lunch, Cafeteria
Chapter 71: Mr. Twilley 1:33 P.M. Lunch, Sidewalk Outside Cafeteria
Chapter 72: Clint 1:52 P.M. Lunch, My Jeep
Chapter 73: Keene 1:54 P.M. Lunch, Cafeteria Steps
Chapter 74: Jenny 1:59 P.M. Passing Period, Foreign Language Hallway
Chapter 75: Clint 2:00 P.M. Fifth Period, History
Chapter 76: Shawn 2:03 P.M. Fifth Period, Math Wing Hallway
Chapter 77: Brendan 2:04 P.M. Fifth Period, English
Chapter 78: Keene 2:05 P.M. Fifth Period, Courtyard
Chapter 79: Jenny 2:22 P.M. Fifth Period, Spanish
Chapter 80: Clint 2:40 P.M. Fifth Period, History
Chapter 81: Tommy 3:07 P.M. Sixth Period, Drama
Chapter 82: Clint 3:25 P.M. Sixth Period, Practice Field
Chapter 83: Tiffany 3:41 P.M. Sixth Period, Community Service
Chapter 84: Brendan 3:57 P.M. Computer Lab
Chapter 85: Shawn 3:58 P.M. Courtyard
Chapter 86: Tiffany 4:12 P.M. Delvoe Ford
Chapter 87: Mr. Twilley 4:45 P.M. Theater
Chapter 88: Brendan 6:56 P.M. Delvoe Estate
Chapter 89: Mr. Twilley 7:29 P.M. Whataburger
Chapter 90: Tiffany 7:54 P.M. Delvoe Den
Chapter 91: Brendan 8:12 P.M. Tiffany’s Room
Chapter 92: Jenny 8:16 P.M. Clint’s Jeep
Chapter 93: Tiffany 8:18 P.M. Mr. Delvoe’s Study
Chapter 94: Clint 8:19 P.M. Water Tower Park
Chapter 95: Keene 8:21 P.M. Davenport House
Chapter 96: Brendan 8:41 P.M. Tiffany’s Probe
> Chapter 97: Tommy 8:41 P.M. Whataburger
Chapter 98: Tiffany 8:47 P.M. Delvoe Study
Chapter 99: Mr. Twilley 9:01 P.M. Whataburger
Chapter 100: Keene 9:10 P.M. Lee High Parking lot
Chapter 101: Clint 9:20 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 102: Tiffany 9:25 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 103: Tommy 9:26 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 104: Shawn 9:31 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 105: Jenny 9:33 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 106: Tommy 9:35 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 107: Tiffany 9:41 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 108: Mr. Twilley 9:45 P.M. Bonfire
Chapter 109: Brendan 9:50 P.M. Parking lot
Chapter 110: Keene 9:54 P.M. Parking lot
KEENE DAVENPORT
7:02 A.M.
Laurence is orating. His Highness is careful to pose just so. Just so means he’s angled in a way that allows him to catch his own natty reflection in the mirror over the china cabinet. He has Terrence and Ally (otherwise known as Dad and Mom) spellbound. They’ve discontinued their morning rituals: Dad—swearing over the New York Times crossword; Mom—laying waste to her sixth graders’ math homework. My fifteen-year-old brother is reciting from the Letters to the Editor section of the morning’s edition of the Deerfield Herald. Specifically, he is reading a letter penned by me. I sit down in my bathrobe and pour a bowl from one of the assorted boxes of healthy, fibrous cereals Terry and Ally insist on. I know it kills mon frère that I pay no attention to him. He pauses to welcome me to the breakfast table.
“As salaam alaikum, my brother,” Laurence says while giving me a raised fist of Black Power. I don’t respond, so he returns to his recitation of my fiery screed. With a malicious gleam in his eye, he kicks back his chair, pulls out his shirttails, and adopts the high-volume grunting and braying tones of a Mississippi Delta evangelist.
“‘Then it is apparent, if one buys into the logic of local school officials, that this Slave Day, which is obviously and patently offensive in nature, is not perceived as racist simply because it has always existed without comment from those it should chiefly offend—African-American students.’”
Laurence pauses, pretends to mop sweat and tears, and continues.
“‘Should we really need to say that the premise of a Slave Day offends us? Should we warn the school board today that we’ll object to separate drinking fountains, regulations that banish us to the back of the school bus, lynchings in lieu of suspensions, changing the school mascot to the Sambos?’”
Dad grins at that. Mom stares at Laurence with her mouth open, not like she wants to say something, more like she doesn’t believe what she is hearing.
“‘If simply knowing what offends us will indeed alter the direction our school officials will take in the future, then let us act now! Rather than betraying our ancestors by mindlessly playing along with this ill-advised charade, simply refuse to be a part of it.
“‘I’m calling on all students of color, particularly those eight elected to student council (eight out of sixty in a school fully one-quarter African-American? Hmmm. In the words of Marvin Gaye, “What’s goin’ on?”) and, most importantly, on our first elected black student council president himself to boycott this demeaning ritual. Furthermore, our presence on campus serves as implicit acceptance of the event. Therefore, I say we take a day off. Let’s not ride this metaphorical bus of oppression. That should get the attention of those who allow such things to take place.’”
Laurence, then, adds his own paragraph.
“Furthermore, I have a dream that one day the white children and black children of Deerfield will walk hand in hand to Sac-n-Pac and share a Slushee out of the same straw.” (Terrence interjects a grinning “Amen, brother” here.)
“‘Do the right thing. Fight the power! Keene Davenport, seventeen, A Concerned African-American citizen.’”
My little brother proudly takes his seat at the table to the applause and hallelujahing of my father and the brow furrowing of my mother. I continue shoveling twigs into my mouth.
“So how ’bout it, Tom? You gonna join the boycott?” I say before my next bite.
“Sorry, Malcolm, tempting as it sounds to sit around here in my bathrobe all day watching soaps in the name of Black pride, I’ve got a quiz in history today. Besides, I’m thinking I might like to get me one of those slaves.”
“Mom, Dad. I told you we shouldn’t have adopted this …,” I begin, but Mom interrupts me.
“Keene, you are going to school today.”
I recognize the tone. Not once, in my lifetime, have I won a concession from this woman when she speaks like this. Still, there has to be a first.
“No way, Mom. I can’t go to school after calling for a walkout. Do you realize how that will make me look?” As I say it, I know it is the wrong approach. I try again. “By going to school, just by being there, I’m saying that Slave Day is acceptable. So next year, the year after, ten years from now, they’ll still be having this stupid fund-raiser.”
“Well, when my grandchildren ask to skip school, you’ll be able to tell them yes, but right now, I’m telling you you’re going to school. I’m more concerned with the C on your progress report than I am about a silly school event.”
I look to my father for help, but he’s just shaking his head. “Metaphorical bus of oppression,” he says mirthfully.
BRENDAN YOUNG
7:22 A.M.
As if I didn’t have enough stress in my life, my parents named me Brendan.
Brendan Young, to be exact. It’s the kind of name that gets you beaten up. With a name like Brendan, at the very least, you can bet on getting wedgicated by some hungus missing-link Billys or Chucks.
Most of the time it’s my first name (along with my toothpick limbs, spotty complexion, faint lisp, and ability to long-divide in my head) that solidifies my leperfication. Today is different. Today is Slave Day. My last name’s the enemy.
Let me explain.
Robert E. Lee High School, where I’m a sophomore, has 1,481 students. These students are divided up alphabetically into homerooms of twenty-five students each. I’m in Homeroom No. 60. We’re the last homeroom—the one with the six leftover students. Each homeroom is supposed to elect one member to the student council. Mr. Zarsky, my homeroom teacher, didn’t want to waste cigarette time instilling in us the value of the electoral process, so he scanned the report cards of his class of six and designated me Homeroom No. 60 representative, an honor not unlike being chosen U.S. senator from Rhode Island. I would have considered declination, but the meetings got me out of PE every other week. Whoop, Whoop.
As a rep, even one from Homeroom No. 60, I get auctioned off during Slave Day, the student council’s fund-raiser to pay for the following night’s homecoming dance. Keep in mind, all the other reps were elected. They’re mostly seniors and, without fail, beautiful and popular with one-syllable flight attendant names: Rob, Tish, Chris, Jake. But it’s not the prospect of being a slave for the day—carrying books, fetching lunch, escorting my master to class—that has me down. It’s the actual auctioning part. I’m going to be the last council member up for sale and, just maybe, the first rep not to merit the five-buck minimum bid. Everyone will get a big laugh out of that. I shouldn’t have been shooting my mouth off to Deena about being in student council. If she doesn’t already think I’m genetic gubbish, wait until I’m up there on the auction block having an asthma attack.
Then again, maybe Deena will bid on me. Maybe she’ll lay down a twenty and say, “Back off, girls. He’s mine.” Maybe we’ll take a blanket down to the river, and she’ll make me feed her grapes one by one, and when I place them in her mouth her lips will touch my fingers. … Yeah, maybe a DC-9 will crash-land into the gym and kill me before the auction begins.
JENNY ROBINSON
7:25 A.M.
“Whatcha doin’ there, Princess?” my father says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“Math homework,” I answer.
“Left-handed?”
“Clint’s math homework,” I say.
“Clint ought to do his own homework,” he says, but then he chuckles and pulls the knot of his tie tight. “You two are quite a team. I can see how that boy has enough on his mind already, what with the Liberty Valley game tomorrow night. Mind if I have one of these cookies?” He points to the sugar cookies with the Hershey’s Kisses baked into them that I’ve been working on for Clint’s spirit box.
“Go ahead. He won’t miss one.” I connect two homely circles into an 8. At first Mrs. Chatfield wrote little notes on Clint’s homework saying it needed to be neater, but I’ve gotten a lot better at printing left-handed. Sometimes I’ll miss one or two on my own homework, so Chatfield won’t suspect we’re cheating. Algebra is one of the three classes Clint and I have together. I wouldn’t want Chatfield to snag us and take one of us out of her class. I just wish Clint would do better on the quizzes. She asked Clint how he could do so well on his homework and so poorly on his quizzes. He told her he gets test anxiety. He kind of shuffled his feet and acted like he was really embarrassed. He looked really shy and cute. She asked him if he would like to take his tests untimed after school, when there wouldn’t be other students there to make him nervous. He said, “No ma’am. I’ll just try harder,” and reeled her in.
It reminded me of when he asked me out for the first time. That was thirteen months ago, and we’ve been together ever since. Well, except for the three weeks we broke up this summer when I found out about Clint messing around with Angie Pear.
It seems Clint, Damien, and Alex (his “posse” he calls them—give me a break) took Clint’s parents’ boat out waterskiing on Canyon Lake. The Country Estates Posse took all the beer from their parents’ houses, and from what I’ve been told, just “ran into” Angie and a couple of those other senior sluts—Leslie Aitken (the preacher’s daughter … need I say more) and Trish “Trash” Neuman—and invited them along. This after telling me it was a guys’ day out. By the time it got dark, they were all wasted.
Not surprisingly, they started playing Truth or Dare.