Take Back the Block

by Chrystal D. Giles

  Mya didn’t even look up. She’d been giving Kari an attitude ever since that incident at her birthday party.

  Mya is known for having epic birthday parties. She plans exactly how she wants things to be. When she turned ten, she had everyone dress up in their dopest outfit and walk down a runway for her fashion show. She had judges and everything. I won first place, and my prize was a hundred-dollar gift card.

  This year she had a carnival-themed party, complete with costumes and a photo booth. Mya was the carnival princess. She took pictures with everyone in the photo booth. When it was Mya and Kari’s turn, they made funny faces and used all the best props. For the last shot, Kari and Mya both made kissy lips, looking into the camera. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but when the machine spat out the pictures, the rumors started.

  Everyone sang, “Mya and Kari, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…” and “Mya loves Kari…” Then Brent gave them the couple name Ka’Mya, which sent Mya over the edge. Her face went from pink to red to redder the more we laughed. And when I called Kari Mari by mistake, Mya lost it.

  She blamed Kari for not squashing the rumor. She blamed Kari for laughing. She even blamed Kari for coming into the booth with her.

  Kari apologized at least one hundred times, but it was too late—Mya has never forgiven him and probably never will. Which isn’t fair, but I don’t know how to fix it, and I’m not about to be uninvited to Mya’s parties because of some beef with her and Kari, especially since half the time he isn’t around anyway.

  Since then, the crew’s been divided—an incomplete puzzle.

  If Kari’s around, Mya doesn’t want to hang out…and Alyssa doesn’t want to be here if Mya’s not here. Which is weird because Alyssa lives on my street—plus, her mom and my mom are really good friends. Honestly, things are a lot easier when Kari’s not around.

  I know Kari would take that moment back if he could, and it really wasn’t his fault. I also know Kari has a secret crush on Mya. A crush he might as well forget about. She has no interest in him—or any other boy, for that matter. If it doesn’t involve fashion, hair, or glam, it doesn’t interest Mya. She’s already made up her mind to be a famous fashion designer. She’ll move to New York City, go to Parsons School of Design, and be rich by the time she’s twenty-five.

  So, with all the drama between Mya and Kari, he stayed by me during the clothing drive, helping out where he could. Alyssa and I were used to working—Jas, Mya, and Brent, on the other hand, started complaining halfway into it.

  “Are we done yet?” Brent yelled out from his spot on the curb.

  “How many more boxes do we have to carry?” Jas asked.

  “I’m strong, but, dang, this is a lot of stuff,” Brent added, holding his lower back. “And poor Jas can’t lift any more.”

  “Shut up, Brent!” Jas said, elbowing Brent in the side. “I lifted just as much as you did.”

  “Do you think people washed these clothes before they stuffed them into these boxes?” Mya asked. “Some of this stuff stinks.”

  “Okay, y’all listen…Ms. Grave is real cool, but she does have a mean side, so shut up before she makes us move inside with the adults,” I said.

  “Yeah, y’all chill out, it’s not that bad,” Alyssa said.

  I swapped places with Jas for a while because he really did look like he was about to faint.

  As the clothing drive wrapped up, I watched Kari stare down all the people carrying out bags. He’d come to replace some of the clothes he’d lost during the move. Now the only items in his size were picked over. I had to do something.

  “Alyssa, I need some help,” I said, motioning for her to come over away from everyone else.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Will you put any good clothes you have left in a box for me? Like something that would fit me.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “I can’t say, but it’s kinda important.”

  “I got you,” Alyssa said.

  When the clothing drive was over, Dad arrived to pick us up. I put the box in the trunk of the SUV. Now I needed to think of a way to get the box to Kari.

  “Kari, what you doing later?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Want to come back to my house?”

  “Cool.”

  “We could all come if that’s okay with you, Mr. Walter. Wes told us you’re grilling burgers,” Brent said, grinning.

  “Well, I have enough for three of you, but the rest of you are out of luck!” Dad teased.

  We all piled into the SUV. It reminded me of the days after summer camp back when everyone lived in the same neighborhood. We would all stuff into one car, us boys smelling like rank onions—the girls complaining the whole way. We’d ride home belting out our best Drake impressions or debating who had the best layup during free play on the court.

  When we got to our house, the mood changed. A grayness hung over us, like a rain cloud ready to unload. We unpacked ourselves out of the SUV and walked across the driveway. The closer we got to the front door, the grayer the air got. Alyssa’s mom and Brent’s and Jas’s parents were all hunched together on the front porch. They were staring at a piece of paper clenched tightly in Mom’s hands.

  Mom flashed Dad a wide-eyed look—parent-speak for “We have a problem.” Dad rushed us past the closemouthed adults, into the house, and down the hall to my room.

  “You guys hang out here until we call you,” he instructed.

  “Ummm, okay,” I said under my breath as he closed my bedroom door behind him, leaving us out of whatever was going on.

  I sat on the floor with my back pressed against the bed’s footboard. Brent and Jas had taken over the bed, while Mya leaned against the window. Kari was propped against the closet door on the other side of the room—as far away as he could get from Mya. Alyssa sat on the floor cross-legged beside me.

  The six of us hadn’t been stuffed into my room at the same time in years. I just hoped the water bugs didn’t decide to race each other across the floor, especially nowhere near Mya. I’d never be able to convince her we didn’t have roaches—Mya has a real issue with roaches.

  Once, when we were in second grade, back when Mya lived in the Oaks, Brent came up with a plan to scare her with a fake roach. When we got to school one day, he slipped the roach into her book bag, and when she pulled out her notebook, the bug fell onto the floor. She screamed. The kid next to her saw it and told the whole class Mya had roaches.

  No one really believed Princess Mya had roaches, but she was still pretty mad. She knew it was me or Brent who snuck the bug into her bag, but when the teacher threatened us with a phone call to our parents, neither of us told. Brent and I always have each other’s back and always end up on the same side, no matter what. We both got punished with a week of no TV, but it was worth it to see Mya scream in front of the whole class.

  Back in my room, we sat quiet with the same “What do we do now?” look on our faces.

  “What do you think it is?” Jas asked us, breaking the silence.

  “I don’t know, maybe somebody died,” said Brent.

  “Both of y’all shut up. Nobody’s dead,” Mya said.

  “How do you know?” Brent asked.

  “Because nobody was crying!” Mya answered, with a deep eye roll.

  “Why don’t we just wait until they tell us what’s going on?” Alyssa chimed in.

  “But it’s been forever,” Jas said.

  “Did one of y’all steal something from the shelter?” Mya said, narrowing her eyes in Brent and Jas’s direction.

  “Don’t start blaming us,” Jas snapped.

  “Well, one of y’all had to do something,” Mya said.

  “Mya, your white privilege is showing,” Brent said.

  That shut Mya right up. Jas and I tried to s
tuff our laughter into our palms—we failed.

  Mya is half-white, but when she’s with the crew, she tries to only show her Black side.

  “What’s in that box you brought back?” Brent asked, looking at me. He was just being nosy, but it still—

  “Don’t worry about it!” I barked.

  “My bad. I’m just sayin’, I didn’t take nothing,” Brent said, holding his hands in the air to prove they were empty.

  “Everybody chill out,” Alyssa said, with one eyebrow raised at me.

  “Maybe it’s nothing,” Kari said.

  “Right,” Alyssa agreed.

  “Whatever. We wouldn’t be crammed into this tiny room waiting if it was nothing,” Mya said, this time looking directly at Kari.

  I tried to stay cool, but I could tell there was definitely something wrong. There were way too many people in this room. Suddenly I was having trouble finding air. I could taste my lunch in the back of my throat. I took slow, deep breaths. The last thing I wanted to do was puke in front of everybody.

  When the door swung open, Dad led us to the living room. The air was as thick as cold grits. Mom’s eyes were red. Maybe somebody did die. I hadn’t seen Mom cry since Aunt Mabel died.

  “I know you all know something is going on,” Jas’s mom said. “We might as well share this with you.”

  “Who died?” Brent blurted out.

  “No one died; our neighborhood has received an offer of purchase. A development group wants to buy the land and redevelop it,” Dad said, straight to the point—no sugar.

  I could see one of the papers. My eyes narrowed in on SIMMONS DEVELOPMENT GROUP plastered at the top of the page.

  “Wait, does that mean we won’t live here anymore?” Alyssa asked. Her normally bright eyes looked sad.

  “Not necessarily, this is just an offer. The board will meet and decide what to do,” Mom said.

  “I don’t want you kids worrying about this,” Alyssa’s mom said. “We’ll handle it. We just wanted to let you know what’s going on.”

  A development group wants to buy the land and redevelop it….I’m not stupid, that meant we’d have to move. There’d be nothing left on our block but single shoes and dirty mattresses, just like at the old apartment building.

  There was no way I could leave. The Oaks is my home. I’ve done everything here—met my best friends, learned how to ride a bike, made my first three-pointer on the court at the park, and had so many epic hide-and-seek games—oak trees are the best for hiding. Flashes of all my favorite memories popped into my mind—a highlight reel of my life. How could I leave all that?

  It was almost 7:00 p.m. when everyone finally left our house. Dad had gone to take Kari (and the secret box of clothes) home. I’d heard “Don’t worry” eight times before the last parent walked out the door. I was tired of everyone telling me not to worry. I needed to slow my mind down and focus on something else, so I pulled out my new puzzle.

  It was a birthday gift from Mr. Hank; he got me one every year now since the first one, usually something science-themed, but this was one I’d been eyeing for a long time—a 1,000-piece mash-up of my favorite Marvel superheroes.

  I figured it’d take me a whole week to finish, and I’d been waiting for the right moment to get started. Now seemed like a good time. I needed to work on a challenge I could fix all on my own. Puzzles kept my mind and hands busy and somehow made me calm too.

  I cracked open the seal, slid off the box top, and got to work turning all the pieces faceup. I started with the outside border of the puzzle, a strategy I read in a book once on how to be a puzzle master. The book said the picture was clearer when you focused on the outside view and then concentrated on the inner details.

  I’d just finished piecing together the bottom edge when Dad got back home and called me to dinner. I wasn’t really interested in talking about the offer, but that didn’t matter, Mom started the conversation right as I loaded my fork with some baked beans.

  “Wes, I know this is a lot for you to understand, but that’s why I bring you along to so many community events. It’s important for you to know what’s going on around us,” she said.

  “Do you think we’ll really have to move?” I asked.

  “I won’t say no, but just know there’ll be a lot of people fighting to make sure Kensington Oaks is safe. The Oaks means everything to us,” Mom said.

  “Your mom grew up in this house,” Dad said.

  “I know, Dad,” I said.

  “Did you know Grandpa saved up for over ten years to be able to put a down payment on it?” Mom asked.

  “Ten years is a long time. Almost as old as me,” I said.

  “Yes it is. He worked hard to own his own home,” Mom said. “Back then only a few Black families lived in this neighborhood.”

  “For real?” I asked.

  I couldn’t even imagine a bunch of white people in the Oaks. There’s one white family on Brent’s street and one near the park, but that’s it.

  “Yes, when we started moving in, the white folks started moving out,” Mom said.

  “If this is our house and our neighborhood, how can they make us move?” I asked.

  “It’s not just about them making us move. It’s more about us protecting our history,” Dad said. “Mom’s family history and the neighborhood’s history are important. Even if things get uncomfortable.”

  “Your dad’s right. We’ll continue to protect our history. We have to—no one else will if we don’t,” Mom said.

  Her steel-sharp gaze matched her words. I’d seen that look plenty of times—Mom was gearing up for a fight.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I don’t know about y’all, but I kinda like this create-your-own milk shake. I’m putting peanut butter, chocolate sauce, and M&M’s in mine,” Brent said the next day.

  “Man, your stomach is gonna be messed up!” Jas said, frowning at Brent.

  “Let me guess, you’re getting a plain vanilla shake, right?” Brent asked Jas.

  “Yep!” Jas said.

  Alyssa, Jas, Brent, and I crowded up to a table in a corner of the new milk shake shop, Creamy Creations, with our extra-tall glasses of milky heaven. It was a new spot a few blocks from the Oaks. Next door was a build-your-own burger place, and next to that was a grind-your-own coffee café.

  “So y’all think we really gonna have to move?” Jas asked.

  “I’m not worried,” Brent said between long sips of milk shake. “Mrs. Henderson isn’t going to let that happen, right, Wes?”

  I shook my head and sipped my shake.

  “I don’t know, there are a bunch of new buildings all around us now,” Alyssa said. “My mom said it’s only a matter of time.”

  Maybe Alyssa was right—but so was Brent. Mom wasn’t going to back down.

  “We can ignore the offer,” Jas said. “It’s not like they can break into our houses and push us out.”

  “No they can’t, but my mom said our neighbors might sell their houses if they get paid enough,” Alyssa said.

  I kept trying to think of the right thing to add—but all I could think about was not wanting to move. It was like trying to come up with a reason the rec center meant so much to me, but just like then, the perfect words never came.

  I stared at the icy-white walls of Creamy Creations. They were decorated with bright-colored polka dots and smiling cow faces. Every few moments the cowbell jangled as more people came inside to get their frosted milk fix. Until now, I never remembered having an ice cream shop or anything like a fancy create-your-own milk shake store near the Oaks. Mya had one of those fro-yo places, where you fill and weigh your own cups, near her house, but all we ever had was the ice cream truck that drove through our neighborhood during the summer.

  We were just a few blocks from the Oaks
, but everything was different over here, even the police officers. On the walk over, we passed two officers riding bikes. They looked at us real funny, but we kept our eyes straight and fast-walked by them.

  A couple streets past this place was the new condo construction where Kari used to live. I guess with fancy condos going up, everything had to be new—which was nice. I mean, I’m not complaining, my milk shake was just right, but after the offer letter, I was starting to wonder what would happen if the Oaks got redeveloped. Would our street be the latest home to a bunch of stores that let you build your own pizza, bake your own doughnuts, and blend your own organic fruit smoothies?

  Monday during social studies block, all I could think about was getting home to work on my superhero puzzle. Mr. Baker was showing images of ancient Egypt on the Smartboard, but my mind kept flashing back to the Black Panther corner of my puzzle and how I was one piece away from finishing it. I’d looked under every chair and in every corner, but I couldn’t find the missing piece. I was glancing at the clock above the door for the third time when Mr. Baker’s voice thundered my way: “Wesley, is there somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  It’s Wes, I wanted to say, but it was no use. At school I’m Wesley Henderson. Wes only exists in the hallways, courtyard, and café. I shook my head.

  Brent’s laughter from his seat on the other side of the room saved me from Mr. Baker’s stare.

  “Is there something funny you’d like to share with the class, Brent?” Mr. Baker asked. That’s one of those questions that don’t need an answer.

  “No, I’m good,” Brent answered anyway.

  The look on Mr. Baker’s face meant Brent should probably stop talking.

  “Now that I have everyone’s attention,” Mr. Baker said, turning away from Brent and facing the class, “I’d like to tell you about your fall project. While we’re learning about how world societies change over time, we’ll also be learning about what’s going on right here in our society and how we all fit into it. And as the year rolls on, you’ll see how change never stops.”