Take Back the Block

by Chrystal D. Giles

  “Thanks, Mr. Baker,” I said, turning to walk away.

  For some reason, that made me feel better. I’ve never felt close to any of my teachers, and not that they don’t like me, but they don’t pay me any attention either way. I’m not super smart like Alyssa or funny like Brent. Yeah, I was Best Dressed, but teachers don’t care about that kind of thing.

  Mr. Baker seemed different. He never picked favorites, and you couldn’t tell who he liked or didn’t like. For all I knew, he didn’t like anybody—but he’d just said he was proud of me. Maybe that meant something, maybe not.

  I called a meeting the next day after school—I wanted to put together my own team before I talked to Mom about joining the fight. I met Brent, Jas, Alyssa, Mya, and Kari in Mr. Baker’s classroom.

  “Wes, what’s this about?” Mya asked.

  “And why is he here?” Brent whispered in my direction, tipping his head toward Mr. Baker.

  “This is important, guys,” I said, ignoring Brent and Mya. “Y’all want to stay in the Oaks, right?”

  “What does this have to do with the Oaks?” Jas asked.

  “Didn’t y’all hear about the board meeting?” I asked. “Everyone was fighting and yelling. I don’t think the board is going to be able to fix all this.”

  That got their attention.

  “Was it really that bad?” Jas asked.

  “Yeah, it was pretty bad,” I said. “We should be doing something to help.”

  Mr. Baker came over from behind his desk to join us. I told them he knew some community organizations that could help.

  “That’s right; I’ve worked with a group called Save Our City. They’d be able to get you started on the right track,” said Mr. Baker.

  “Are y’all in?” I asked.

  “Count me out. This sounds like too much trouble. Besides, I don’t live in Kensington Oaks anymore,” said Mya.

  “Are you sure you want to fight these people?” Jas said. “I’m in, but what if we lose?”

  “We should at least try. We’ll definitely lose if we don’t try,” Alyssa added. “I’m in.”

  “Wes, you know I got your back,” Kari said.

  So it was me, Alyssa, Jas, and Kari.

  “My dad said we could use the money to buy a bigger house. I can’t go against my dad,” Brent said.

  “So you’re out?” I asked. I couldn’t believe Brent was leaving me hanging. That stung—Brent’s always been on my side.

  “Yeah, I’m out,” Brent said.

  * * *

  • • •

  Mr. Baker contacted his friend at Save Our City to help with saving the Oaks. We’d have to wait a whole week to meet her, but in the meantime, we turned Mr. Baker’s classroom into our headquarters—our safe place. Every day after school, we met to share any new information we found. Mr. Baker was cool about it and didn’t bother us too much. He just sat in the back of the room grading papers.

  I’d read Mr. Baker’s article so many times I’d memorized most of the sections word for word. But I still wasn’t sure how gentrification had anything to do with segregation.

  Jas must have been confused too, ’cause while we were coming up with a list of questions to ask Mr. Baker’s friend, he asked, “Why don’t they just redevelop their own neighborhoods?”

  He had a point. “Mr. Baker, why do they want to come to our neighborhood?” I asked.

  “All right, guys and lady, time for a little history lesson,” Mr. Baker said. “Back in the 1960s, after the desegregation of schools, lots of white families started leaving cities and moving to the suburbs.”

  “To get away from Black people?” I asked.

  “You could say that,” Mr. Baker said. “That left the inner cities full of lower-income people, mostly Black and brown people. In the past several years, that dynamic has started changing again.”

  “That’s messed up,” I said.

  “Where’d you grow up, Mr. Baker?” Alyssa asked.

  “I grew up in a neighborhood like Kensington Oaks, about ten miles from here.”

  “But you’re not Black…or brown,” Jas said, looking confused.

  Mr. Baker smiled. “Well, Jasper, that’s true, but growing up in a community similar to yours taught me to be an ally and a friend and fight beside my neighbors.”

  “That’s why you married a Black lady?” Kari asked. Jas and I looked wide-eyed at Kari and tried to hide our laughs. We didn’t really know if Mr. Baker was married, and we definitely didn’t know if he was married to a Black lady, but someone had made up the story and now everyone repeated it.

  “Okay, enough about me. I need to get back to grading, and you have some reading to do. I found an article that would be good for you to check out.”

  “Oooh, man,” Kari groaned as Mr. Baker passed around the article.

  Jas and I slapped Kari on the back of the head at exactly the same time.

  “This is your fault,” I whispered loudly.

  “And why would you bring up his wife?” Jas asked. “It’s probably not even true.”

  Kari didn’t bother to turn around. He put the article on the desk in front of him and started reading.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next week, Mr. Baker introduced us to his friend. “Everyone, this is Ms. Monica Greene,” he said, walking a lady into his classroom.

  Ms. Monica wore a silky brown pantsuit and a glittery gold bow tie—I’d never seen a lady wear a bow tie, but I kinda liked it. She had wavy burgundy hair that fell past her shoulders, and bright pink lipstick popped against her light brown skin.

  “Nice to meet y’all,” Ms. Monica said in a sugary voice.

  “Can you help us save our neighborhood?” I blurted out.

  “You must be Wesley,” she said, reaching out a hand to me. “I hope I can help. Tell me a little about what’s going on.”

  I filled her in about what was happening in the Oaks, about the offer, and about how some neighbors wanted to sell and some didn’t.

  “That’s tricky,” Ms. Monica said.

  “If we can convince everyone not to sell, maybe Simmons will go away,” Alyssa said.

  Ms. Monica sighed. “I wish that were the case, but that’s not likely,” she said. “Kensington Oaks is located in a prime area for revitalization—it’s just blocks from the city center. That’s the reason Simmons made an offer.”

  “Ms. Monica, I read an article that said gentrification can be good. Is that true?” Alyssa asked.

  “The benefits are mainly financial. Typically, a developer—like Simmons—purchases land in urban areas where lower-income people live. Some of these areas are run-down, so the property values are cheap. That makes it easy for the developer to buy low, redevelop, and sell high.”

  “But how does that help us?” I asked.

  “Well, when construction is done, there will be new homes, restaurants, and shops,” Ms. Monica explained. “That will bring more revenue and more jobs to the area.”

  “That does sound good, except for the part about us being kicked out of our homes,” Alyssa said. “Any changes should help the people who already live here.”

  “Right. And the new properties will be more expensive. That means most of the families who have to leave wouldn’t be able to afford to go back there to live,” Ms. Monica said.

  How is that fair! I wanted to scream.

  “Can we fix up our own neighborhood ourselves and stay here?” I asked.

  “That’s a great question, Wesley. That’s one of the missions of Save Our City. But I have to be honest, that’s a very expensive and sometimes difficult solution.”

  “My mom says the best solutions are always the hardest,” Alyssa said.

  “I suggest you get a tally of how many people are willing to sell. That will h
elp us decide what to do next,” Ms. Monica said.

  “Okay, guys, let’s thank Ms. Monica for her time,” Mr. Baker said. “Monica, we’ll be in touch with any new information.” He led her into the hallway.

  “So what do we do now?” Jas asked.

  “I’ll talk to my mom and see if the board has done a poll of who wants to stay and who wants to sell,” I said.

  “We’ll save the Oaks, Wes—we got this,” Alyssa said.

  “Yeah, we got this,” said Kari.

  * * *

  • • •

  That night in bed, a twenty-pound weight pressed on my chest. Twenty pounds of guilt. I tossed back and forth, trying to get it to ease. It wouldn’t go away. I’m a horrible friend—I’d turned my back on Kari when his family had to move, and here he was, still on my team. I’d thought the condo building downtown wasn’t that bad. If only someone had stopped Simmons before now, maybe they wouldn’t have come for the Oaks.

  On our way to school Monday morning, Alyssa, Brent, Jas, and I took our usual walk down my block, through the neighborhood park, toward the Grove. Just as we reached the park, we spotted Ms. Elise, from the board, tacking up signs that read WE AREN’T LEAVING.

  This was her second batch of signs—the first batch had been crossed out with red spray paint and some ripped down completely. I didn’t believe him at first, but Dad said it had to be someone from the Oaks who messed up the signs.

  The four of us sped by Ms. Elise as she fussed to herself about “people having no respect.”

  When we were far enough past her, Brent said, “Dang, I’ve never seen her mad before.”

  He was right. Ms. Elise usually had a smile for everyone, but I’d heard Mom talking about all the neighbors who were interested in accepting the Simmons offer and that she’d even had to cut the last board meeting short because everyone was screaming again.

  * * *

  • • •

  On my way to first block, I was thinking about how we’d never save the Oaks with everyone fighting.

  First block was math. I hate math.

  I hated math even more with Ms. Hardy teaching it. She only liked the smart kids—and I’m not smart, at least not in math.

  “What in the world is Math Jeopardy!?” I whispered to Alyssa when I got to my seat. Ms. Hardy had colored letters pinned to the whiteboard that spelled out Math Jeopardy!

  “I don’t know,” Alyssa whispered back from her seat in front of me. “Sounds kinda fun, though.” Of course Alyssa thought a math game would be fun.

  It turned out Math Jeopardy! was Jeopardy! but with math questions or equations to solve.

  Ms. Hardy read questions from a podium in the front of the room, Alex Trebek–style. You could holler out your answer, or if you needed to work out an equation, you could use the board. The first person with the correct answer won points. Alyssa and I went against each other in the first round.

  Ms. Hardy read out, “If Sky’s lunch cost sixty dollars and fifty cents and she gave a twenty percent tip, how much did she spend?”

  My first thought was What did Sky eat that cost sixty dollars and fifty cents? Before I could even write out the equation on the board, Alyssa called out, “Seventy-two dollars and sixty cents!”

  Of course she was right—she’d one-upped me in NBA 2K and now in math equations.

  I missed my next question too.

  Math block sped by with most of the class acting like they were actually having fun. Right before the bell rang, I was called up for my last question.

  “Taye had nine dollars and fifty cents. He spent two seventy-five on candy and gave his two friends a dollar seventy-five each,” Ms. Hardy read. “How much money was left?”

  I had this one.

  “Three dollars and twenty-five cents!” I screamed out before Jamie, the guy going against me.

  “Good job!” Ms. Hardy said.

  Alyssa gave me a little cheer from her seat, and for a second I forgot how much I hated math. I came back to my senses by lunchtime and figured it out—Math Jeopardy! was all a trick to make us think math wasn’t so bad. I guess a little fun makes even horrible things seem better.

  * * *

  • • •

  I had an idea for the first time since the offer and felt excited about something we could do. We met after school in Mr. Baker’s room. Even Ms. Monica came.

  “Maybe we could do something fun to get everyone to stop fighting,” I said, thinking back to Math Jeopardy! After seeing Ms. Elise get all mad about her signs, we definitely needed a way to chill everyone out.

  Everybody got into it right away and started calling out ideas.

  “What about a basketball tournament?” Kari asked.

  “Nah, too many old people,” I said.

  “We could have a talent show…,” Alyssa said.

  “Nah, not enough talent,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Well, you come up with an idea,” Alyssa said, turning toward me.

  “It needs to be fun…like a party,” I said. “What about a block party? Like we had last summer after the hurricane. Remember Brent hit the winning ball that dunked Mr. York into the dunking booth?”

  We all laughed. Mr. York, my neighbor, was sure none of us had good enough aim to sink him, and then came Brent. Maybe a party would chill out the weirdness with me and Brent too.

  “Yeah! That was fun,” Jas said. “We should definitely have another block party!”

  “We’ll need music,” Kari said. “And we can have a slideshow of pictures from the good days in the Oaks.”

  “Before all the fighting,” Alyssa added.

  “I can handle the music,” Jas said.

  “Me and Kari can work on the slideshow,” I said.

  “I’ll make the signs and decorations,” Alyssa chimed in.

  “What about food?” Kari asked.

  “Save Our City will sponsor the food and drinks and take care of the permit,” said Ms. Monica.

  I could see the pieces sliding into place. The only way to beat Simmons Development Group was as one complete team. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Mom and Dad about the block party. We’d need them to help pull it off.

  * * *

  • • •

  Mom and Dad were sprawled out on the couch watching the news.

  “I have something I need to talk to you about,” I said.

  “Sure, Wes. What is it?” Dad asked, sitting up straight.

  “Jas, Alyssa, Kari, and I have been working on a plan to save the Oaks.”

  “Son, we told you not to worry about that,” Dad said.

  There was no way I couldn’t be worried—the Oaks is my home too.

  “I know, but Mr. Baker, my social studies teacher, and Ms. Monica know a bunch of people who can help us.”

  “Who’s Ms. Monica?” Mom asked.

  “She’s from Save Our City.”

  “I’ve heard of that organization,” Mom said. “They do great work. They always sponsor a booth at the shelter’s annual food drive.”

  “She’s on our team. Ms. Monica says since only some of our neighbors are willing to accept the offer, we have a chance of changing their minds.”

  “I’ve talked to them, honey. A lot of them don’t want their minds changed,” Mom said.

  “Well, we have to try, and…I was thinking we could have a block party,” I said.

  “A block party?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, to get everyone to stop fighting,” I said. I could tell Dad wasn’t sure about the block party idea, but I did see a little sparkle in Mom’s eye. “We think it’ll get everyone talking again and remind them why we all like living in the Oaks.”

  “That is actually a great idea, Wes,” Mom said.

  “Really?” I asked.

 
“Yes, really.” Mom smiled and gave me a hug. “Your dad and I will do anything we can to help.”

  Now that Mom and Dad were in, we had two weeks to plan the dopest block party Kensington Oaks had ever seen.

  * * *

  • • •

  It was Taco Tuesday—my absolute favorite day in the café. After Brent, Jas, and I stacked our tortillas with loads of beef and cheese, we headed to our normal table. Alyssa and Mya were waiting on us, each with an identical version of the plainest lunch ever. A turkey sandwich, string cheese tube, baked potato chips, and a banana—our tacos beat their lunch by a mile.

  We spent our whole lunch talking about the block party. I’d already started collecting pictures for the slideshow, and Alyssa was trying to decide what color decorations we should use. Now we just needed some fun stuff for us kids.

  “Let’s have a bounce house,” Jas said.

  “Bounce houses are for babies,” Brent said. “You should bring back the dunking booth.”

  “It’s only fun if the adults get in, and after you sent Mr. York into that dirty water last time, there is no way he’ll do it again,” Alyssa said.

  “Okay, what about a water balloon fight?” Brent asked. He was acting more excited than any of us, considering he wasn’t helping us with the plan to stop Simmons.

  “So what’s the point of the block party anyway?” Mya asked. She’d been sitting there trying to ignore us the whole time, but I guess she’d had enough of our loud talking.

  “We’re trying to get everyone to stop fighting,” Alyssa said.

  “Who’s fighting?” Mya asked.

  “Everybody,” Jas said. “Did you hear that Brent’s dad and Mr. Hank got in each other’s face at the last meeting?”

  “That’s not true,” Brent said, glaring at Jas.

  “Well, that’s what my mom told my dad,” Jas said. “And Ms. Elise was about to flip the other day.”

  That only made Mya more irritated, and now Brent was frowning too.