“So the party is to get everyone thinking about the good times we’ve had in the Oaks,” I said, trying to cool the air, but I could tell Mya didn’t care about how great the Oaks was.
“Maybe it’s a good thing people are thinking about moving,” she said. “There are other places to live, you know?”
I didn’t answer.
“Some of us don’t have a choice about moving,” Brent said.
“Well, we’re planning a party for the people who do have a choice…,” I said.
“What does that mean?” Brent asked, sticking his chest out in my direction.
“It means the party will be awesome!” Alyssa said before I could answer.
I swallowed my answer to Brent—maybe he didn’t have a choice, but some of us did, and we were choosing to save the Oaks.
* * *
• • •
The next day after school, the team met in Mr. Baker’s classroom to make a flyer for the block party. It was time to get the word out. Our flyer had to be good enough to convince everybody to come to the party even though some of them were mad.
I’d started on my own draft; I just needed to get the team’s okay before we printed it.
IT’S A PAAAAAARTY!
THE DOPEST PARTY THE OAKS HAS EVER SEEN
EVEN BETTER THAN LAST YEAR!
DON’T MISS IT, NEXT SATURDAY AT 4:00
IF YOU HAVE AN ATTITUDE…STAY HOME!
“We can’t use that! It’s mean….We’re trying to get the community together, remember?” Alyssa said.
“What? This is a great flyer,” I said, defending my hard work.
“Jas, Kari, please tell him,” Alyssa said.
“Well…I don’t love it…the part about the attitude is kinda mean,” Jas said.
“What’s mean about it? You know people have attitudes,” I said. “Kari, what do you think?”
“I’m with Alyssa. We want to bring everyone together, right?” Kari asked.
“The party was my idea, so I should be able to pick what goes on the flyer,” I snapped back.
“Talk about attitude…,” Alyssa said, smirking at me.
“Time out, guys,” Mr. Baker said. “This is a team effort, and you need to work on the flyer together.” He looked at me.
“Right!” Alyssa said.
“Why don’t we all make a flyer and we’ll vote on the best one,” Jas suggested.
“That’s a good idea, Jasper,” Mr. Baker said.
Everyone picked a corner of the classroom and got to work on the flyers. Mine was already good, so I didn’t change it, but Alyssa, Jas, and Kari came up with their own ideas.
This was Alyssa’s:
Come Join Us!
WHAT: A block party in Kensington Oaks
WHEN: Next Saturday at 4:00 PM
WHY: To bring the neighborhood together
Hope to see you there!
BOOOORING!!!
This was Jas’s:
PARTY TIME!
COME TO OUR PARTY!
WE’LL HAVE MUSIC AND DANCING! FEATURING DJ JAS!
NEXT SATURDAY AT 4:00
Not bad, but not as good as mine.
This was Kari’s:
WE’RE HAVING A BLOCK PARTY
TO GET THE OAKS BACK TOGETHER
NEXT SATURDAY AT 4:00 IN THE PARK
WE’LL HAVE FOOD AND FUN!
It was okay, but something was missing.
“Why don’t you use something from all of your flyers?” Mr. Baker suggested. “And have you thought of a theme? It would be nice to have a theme for the party.”
Good thing Mr. Baker was there, because I hadn’t thought about a theme, and without him we would’ve never agreed on a flyer. Here is what we decided on:
IT’S A PARTY TO BRING THE NEIGHBORHOOD TOGETHER!
JOIN US FOR THE DOPEST BLOCK PARTY TO EVER HIT THE OAKS!
NEXT SATURDAY IN THE PARK AT 4:00 PM
WE’LL HAVE MUSIC, DANCING, AND, YES, THERE WILL BE FOOD!
COME READY TO HAVE FUN!
It was just right! We made copies at the library and spent the rest of the afternoon tacking flyers to every tree in the Oaks—well, maybe not every tree, but a lot of trees.
The next afternoon on the walk home from school, Brent brought up the social justice project. I’d been too busy planning the block party to think about it, and we still had six weeks until it was due. Brent had switched his topic from climate change to gun control, then finally settled on protecting the First Amendment. Alyssa was halfway done with her paper already. I still didn’t have a topic.
“For my presentation, I’m thinking about recording a video,” Alyssa said.
“That sounds like way too much work for a little project,” Brent said.
“It’s not a little project,” Alyssa said. “And Mr. Baker expects our best.”
“When did he tell you that?” Brent asked. “Oh, let me guess—when y’all were hanging out in his room after school?” His words were mean, even for Brent.
“He’s been helping us with the block party,” I said. “You didn’t want to help, remember?”
“So he’s your best friend, right?” Brent said, looking at me.
“My best friend? You trying to be funny?” I said.
“Can both of you chill?” Alyssa asked, looking back and forth between me and Brent.
“He’s the one that got all mad,” Brent said.
I wasn’t mad!
I didn’t even bother to correct him, though. Plus, I didn’t really know what to say—maybe I was mad. I’d only gotten mad at Brent one other time, back in third grade when he didn’t pick me first to be on his basketball team during gym.
Something was going on with him. Or me. Or both of us. Or maybe we really weren’t on the same side anymore.
* * *
• • •
A couple of days later, I strolled over to the community park to meet Brent and Jas—it’s usually my favorite part of every weekend, hanging with the guys at the park. There isn’t much to do there except shoot hoops on the basketball court, if you can even call it a court. With its stained, cracked pavement and rusted rims, it has seen better days.
The weekends meant high school kids would be at the park, hanging around looking for somebody to bother. Nothing me and my crew couldn’t handle, but still, it would be nice to chill without fighting for a spot or to keep your ball.
I got there first. Good, keeping your spot was easier than trying to get someone to share theirs or waiting for the older guys to get bored enough to leave. I bounced my worn ball down the brick path and around the old fountain, between my legs, in and out, back and forth, while I waited on Jas and Brent. My new ball had better grip, but bringing a new ball on the weekend was nothing less than stupid.
“Wassup?” I called out as Jas ran across the court.
“Hey!” Jas said, slapping my hand.
“You seen Brent?”
“Nah.”
“HORSE until he shows up?”
“Yeah, let’s get it.”
I chest-passed the ball to Jas.
Swish! His first basket was good. A simple layup.
Swish! I followed up with a layup of my own.
We traded a couple more easy shots before I upped the competition with a long-range three.
Splash! Nothing but net.
Clank. Jas’s shot bounced off the backboard and just missed the rim. The ball rolled across the court, stopping right in front of a pair of the largest LeBron 10s I had seen up close—they belonged to Drip.
Drip is at least six three. He towers over all the kids in the neighborhood.
Apparently, after God blessed him with height, he forgot to bles
s him with brains. Drip is supposed to be in the eleventh grade, but he started this school year as a ninth grader. That was before he got suspended for stealing a teacher’s cell phone. At some point, they’ll kick him out forever.
“Brick!” Drip laughed and pointed at Jas. “Dang, li’l man, you gotta come better than that. I’ll tell you what…I’ll give you another chance to make that shot and you can keep your ball. You miss, and I get the ball and your spot on the court.”
“Let me take the shot for him,” I pleaded.
“Nope, he has to do it,” Drip said, looking at Jas.
I looked around to see if Brent was close by; at least he could talk Drip down. Brent has a way of keeping the older guys calm, maybe because he’s almost as tall as them. I couldn’t remember a time I’d gotten my ball taken when Brent was around. I still couldn’t believe he’d left us hanging.
Drip picked the ball up and threw it across the court. It came flying at Jas, just missing his face. Jas barely caught the ball. His hands were shaky and sweating—no way he was going to make that shot.
He rubbed his wet hands, one after the other, on the front of his shorts and took a deep breath. He bounced the ball against the pavement, bent his knees, jumped, and hurled the ball toward the basket.
Clank.
I watched as my ball rolled off the pavement and into the grass. I knew that was the last time I would see it.
“Guess I got a new ball!” Drip laughed.
Jas and I turned to walk away while Drip practiced layups with my ball in my spot. Brent had completely ghosted.
Monday afternoon I found myself sitting on my front step, waiting for Kari. We were supposed to be working on the slideshow for the block party, but I hadn’t seen him at school earlier. Maybe something happened at the hotel. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know.
Then it was like someone had poured my thoughts right out, because Kari strolled up the street, looking as chill as ever.
“Kari? Where’ve you been?”
“Danica was sick, so I had to stay home with her today ’cause my mom had to work.”
“Oh, okay.” I knew better than to ask any more questions. Kari was sensitive about his little sister, Danica.
“Let’s get started on the slideshow,” Kari said.
We went inside and got busy working on the show.
We uploaded and sorted pictures we’d gotten from our moms. There was even a picture of me and Kari when we were babies. Well, I was a baby and Kari was a little kid. He was trying to hold me on his lap. Sometimes I forgot how far back me and Kari went.
“Do you think Mya and Brent will come to the block party?” Kari asked, pulling my mind away from the picture.
“Brent will definitely be there. He’d never miss a party. Mya? Probably not. She doesn’t claim the Oaks anymore.” I shrugged but then decided to just go ahead and say what I’d been thinking. “Kari, thanks for having my back. You don’t even live here anymore, but you’re still helping.”
“You’re my little bro. You know everything about me and my family and never once treated me different. I know people call me weird, but you hang with me anyway. I miss being in the Oaks—I feel a little left out not living here anymore.”
A twinge of guilt stabbed at my side as I thought back to the times I hadn’t invited Kari over when Mya was around. The truth is, I had been treating Kari different lately. I don’t even know exactly when I’d quit having his back, but that had to stop.
“How’s it living in that hotel?” I asked.
“Noisy. There’re always different people hanging around. Mom is scared for Danica to play outside. She’s thinking about moving us to live with my aunt.”
“What? Man, that’s like two hours away.”
“I know, but we don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, my little cousins are the same age as Danica, so she’ll have someone to play with.”
“What about you?”
“It’s not about me.” Kari had a faraway look in his eyes. “Anyway, let’s get back to this slideshow.”
The rest of the week zoomed by and it was Saturday just like that. The block party was starting in just a couple hours. The crew and I rushed to get the final decorations up. Alyssa had picked the theme, “Take Back the Block.” It was perfect—that was exactly what we were doing, taking back our block, and we’d need the whole neighborhood for that.
We hung a huge sign flanked by gold and purple balloons at the entrance of the neighborhood. We tacked gold arrows to tree trunks to point everyone in the direction of the park. Balloons and streamers, tied in trees, waved above us. Mr. Hank helped me and Jas set up speakers and a projection screen for the slideshow. The park would be party central.
Mr. Baker, Ms. Monica, and her friends from Save Our City arrived with the food. We’d picked a menu of southern barbecue favorites: pulled pork, beef brisket, baked beans, buttered corn on the cob, corn bread muffins, and peach cobbler for dessert. Jas had the awesome idea of setting up the food in a couple different areas so everyone would have to walk around and talk to each other.
Mom could hardly keep her hands still. “Wes, I am so proud,” she said, reaching to hug me for the third time in five minutes. Good thing the neighbors started arriving before she could get too mushy.
“Family Reunion” by the O’Jays roared through the speakers, welcoming everyone to the party. They hugged and greeted each other like the old days. Even Ms. Elise seemed like her usual self. Smiles jumped from one face to the next. Jas’s plan to mix up the food stations worked perfectly. This was the happiest I’d seen my neighbors in weeks.
After we ate, it was time for dancing. Jas was the official deejay.
Brent led the Soul Train line. He jumped right up front with no hesitation and no permission. It was kinda weird having him act like things were normal between us. Brent has always been good at staying cool even if things aren’t going as well as they look. To him, maybe, things were normal, but to me things were all messed up.
Brent bounced and slid down the Soul Train line with neighbors on both sides cheering him on. Mr. and Mrs. Williams jumped right up, shimmying down the line after him. Kari was too shy to dance, so he just walked down the line high-fiving everyone. Mom and Dad made their way to the front, bumping hips as they danced down the line. Alyssa and I were next. We’d ended up wearing the same camo-patterned Chucks—we were the best dressed and had the best moves.
Next up was the Wobble. When the song started, everyone found a spot with enough space to dance. “Wobble Baby” blasted through the speaker. We jumped forward, jumped backward, twisted, and wobbled to the beat. Kari even joined in. After three full rotations, the crowd was bumping into each other and turning in different directions.
Before Brent could start another round of the Wobble, Kari started the slideshow. Everyone watched in amazement as the pictures flipped.
Slide: The summer the water main broke and flooded the streets, Brent surfed down the block in his underwear.
Slide: Jas practicing his talent show drum solo on the Silvas’ front porch. He won first place that year.
Slide: Alyssa’s mom, Ms. Watkins, won Yard of the Month for her flower bed, a tradition that ended after she won twelve months in a row.
Slide: Mr. Hank dressed in seventies clothes—complete with a huge Afro—from his old-school birthday party a few years ago.
Slide: Last summer when everybody helped repave the brick walkway near the fountain in the park.
After the last slide flipped, tears streamed down the faces of many of the neighbors. It was like a warm blanket, fresh out of the dryer, was wrapped around the park.
Alyssa nudged me, letting me know it was time. I made my way to the front of the crowd and peered out at everyone. Speaking to everyone in the neighborhood was the last thing I wanted to do. Mom had helped me write what
I wanted to say, and it wasn’t as bad as talking to a news camera, but still bad enough. And suddenly my shirt felt too tight—I yanked on the collar a little. It didn’t help.
I looked down at the ground and took a deep breath. That didn’t help either, and now my stomach was playing Twister. When I lifted my head, smiling, happy faces looked back at me. Mr. Baker gave me the nod.
“Thank y’all for coming. It’s cool to see everyone getting along.” A few chuckles from the crowd let me know they got my joke. “We want to thank Ms. Baker and Mr. Monica…I mean, Mr. Baker and Ms. Monica, and Save Our City for helping us. I hope this reminds everybody of the happy times we’ve had in the Oaks.”
Just a few more lines.
“I represent the second generation of my family to grow up here. My grandpa worked hard saving money so he could one day own a home in this neighborhood. I’m sure all of you did too, and I think that’s worth fighting for.” I looked over at Mom; she was giving me a thumbs-up from her spot right at the front. “Thank you, that’s all.”
Alyssa’s smile meant I’d done a good job, even though it felt like my stomach had climbed into my throat. I wasn’t sure if the block party would convince everyone to reject the offer from Simmons Development Group, but it felt like we were a community again—smiling and talking and hugging—and I never wanted that feeling to end.
When the party was over, it was time to help clean up.
“Kari, Wes, you guys go get the wheelbarrows from my backyard. We’ll need something to wheel this trash over to the dumpsters,” Mr. Hank said.
Kari and I ran over to Mr. Hank’s house and into the backyard. We were on our way back to the park when the chirp of a siren stopped us in our tracks.
“Aaay, boys, where y’all takin’ them barrows to?”
We turned to find a police officer yelling from his patrol car. He didn’t look familiar. I thought I knew all the police officers who patrolled Kensington Oaks.
“Y’all hear me?” the officer yelled.
“Yes sir, we’re taking them to the park,” Kari answered.
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