Take Back the Block

by Chrystal D. Giles

  “Wrong. The right answer is nowhere,” the officer said. “Where you live, boy?”

  He was talking to Kari but looking at me—then at Kari.

  “I used to live here, but now I live off Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. My friend lives across the street, though.”

  My mouth was superglued shut. That stomach-in-throat thing was happening again.

  Kari gave me a quick nudge.

  “Ugh…yes sir, I live across the street,” I said. My voice was so small I could barely hear it myself.

  “Looks like y’all are trespassin’.”

  Before we could say anything else, the officer jumped out of his car.

  “Lay on the ground!” he screamed.

  Kari and I dropped the wheelbarrows and dove to the pavement.

  I lay there frozen, afraid to move. The sidewalk was hard and rough against my skin. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I tried to play back the past few moments, but my mind kept warping the tape. Don’t talk back. Say yes sir. Do as you are told. All I could think of were Dad’s words. We’d had this talk more than once. My only job was to make it home.

  “We didn’t do nothing!” Kari yelled, his face pressed against the pavement.

  “Shut up! In fact—you with the nappy hair—come with me!” the officer howled at Kari. Then he pointed at me. “You, get up and tell this one’s parents he’ll be at the station on Montford.”

  “Wait!” I called out. But it was too late. The officer had thrown Kari into the back seat of the police car.

  I sprinted back to the park. Tears rimmed my eyes. My vision was blurry and crossed.

  “Wes! What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

  “Mom, he took Kari!” I fought my tired lungs for every word.

  “Who took Kari?” Dad asked.

  “The policeman. He just grabbed him.”

  “Why, what happened?” Dad asked.

  “We were getting the wheelbarrows and he stopped us. Said we were trespassing. He made us get on the ground,” I said, bent over, panting. “Kari told him we weren’t doing anything wrong. And that was it. He threw Kari in the back seat.”

  Mom grabbed me and pulled me close to her chest. “Was it an officer you know?” she asked, rubbing her hands through my hair.

  “No, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Let’s go get Kari,” Dad said, marching away from the park toward our house.

  “He took him to Montford,” I said, following behind.

  “Why Montford? That’s not even our precinct.”

  Me, Mom, Dad, and Mr. Hank jumped in the SUV and headed to the police station.

  * * *

  • • •

  I had only been in a police station one time in my life. It was for a class field trip. As we walked inside, I instantly remembered the stale gray walls and the smell of old coffee.

  The small station was filled with mismatched people. There was a man sleeping on a bench near the doorway, his shoes tossed on the floor. An older lady who looked like someone’s grandmother sat quietly in a corner near the bathroom. Her clothes were filthy and torn. The dirt smudged on her face said she hadn’t had a bath in weeks. She seemed to be in her own world, like she wasn’t even there. She only glanced up when an officer rushed past us, herding in two teen boys not much older than me.

  The hair on my arms stood up. I moved closer to Mom. This place was creepy.

  The waiting area was in a corner right past the front desk. Mom and I found a seat while Dad and Mr. Hank stood in line. There were three people ahead of them.

  “Why would the police bring Kari here?” I asked Mom.

  “This station is closer to where Kari lives.”

  “Do you think he’ll get arrested?”

  “No, Wes, this is just a misunderstanding.” Mom seemed calmer now, which made me feel a little better.

  It was Dad’s turn at the desk. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his face said it all. Total seriousness, no humor. Dad didn’t get angry often, but right now he had fire in his eyes. I’d been on the other side of that look before, and I was glad it wasn’t me this time.

  The intensity in Dad’s walk was hard enough to shake the floor. He closed the gap from the desk to the waiting area in three steps. Mr. Hank walked behind him.

  “Everything is fine. Kari will be released shortly,” Dad said.

  “Why did the officer bring him here, anyway? He didn’t do anything,” I said.

  “Officer Stewart said Kari was wandering around in a neighborhood he didn’t live in. He claims he decided to give Kari a ride home, but Kari wouldn’t tell him where he lived. So they stopped at the station to call his mom and get his address.” Dad had a heavy dose of “yeah right” in his voice.

  “He wasn’t wandering,” I said. “And he pushed Kari into the car.”

  “I told them I sent you both to get the wheelbarrows from my backyard,” Mr. Hank added.

  Heat rushed through my veins. It didn’t matter where Kari lived—the officer had no right to take him.

  We waited another hour before Officer Stewart brought Kari from the back room. The officer was shorter than I thought; in fact, he was only a few inches taller than Kari. He had a round stomach and a balding head. He’d felt like a giant standing over us, just hours earlier. I stared into his eyes; they were dull and mean.

  Most of the officers who patrol the Oaks are Black. They all know me and Kari. Officer Stewart was white, and he apparently knew nothing about the Oaks and who lived there. Kari and his family had only moved away a couple years ago.

  “I spoke to his momma. She said it was fine to release this fella to a Walter Henderson,” Officer Stewart said.

  “That’s me,” Dad said. “Are you okay, Kari?”

  “Yes sir.” Kari’s voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes were red and glossy. “My mom is still at work, but she said it’s okay for me to stay the night at your house.”

  “Okay, let’s go home,” Mom said, wrapping her arm around Kari.

  * * *

  • • •

  When we got back home, I thought Mom and Dad would be full of advice for what Kari and I should have done differently. Instead, Dad kept asking if we were okay. Mom kept hugging us—and we let her.

  “Is there anything you boys want to ask us about what happened tonight?” Dad asked.

  “Why didn’t the officer take me too?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Wes. He said that you live in this neighborhood and Kari doesn’t.”

  “He didn’t give me a chance to explain that I used to live here too. He just pushed me into the car. It was like he didn’t even hear me talking,” Kari said. “Like someone turned my voice off.”

  I could tell Dad was thinking about what to say next. He always has the right answers, but this was different—like he was searching in a puzzle box for the right piece.

  “Kari, I think we have grounds to file a complaint against Officer Stewart,” Dad said finally. “I want you to think about if that’s something you’d like to do.”

  “Will that stop him from doing this again?” Kari asked.

  “There’s no guarantee, but you can use your voice to fight against what happened to you,” Dad said.

  “I think I want to do it,” Kari said.

  “Let’s talk more in the morning,” Mom said.

  “Today was a hard day—you both did good. Now let’s try to get some sleep,” Dad said.

  We said good night and Dad flicked off the light and closed the door behind him. Kari and I usually slept with our heads at opposite ends of my full-sized bed. Tonight we collapsed side by side in the same direction.

  You with the nappy hair—come with me….Officer Stewart’s words kept playing over and over in my mind. The thing is, I see the officers
who patrol the Oaks all the time. Sometimes they get on us neighborhood kids for playing in the street or for throwing trash on the ground, but nothing serious.

  This one officer—who used to live across the street from Jas—would pay us to wash his police car during the summer. He even came back to help with the block party last year.

  The only time I ever played on a football team was with the Police Activities League. I’m no good at football, but it was fun having the officers as coaches. And when I twisted my ankle halfway into the season, Officer Jefferies made sure I got a participation trophy even though I participated the least.

  I never thought the police killings from TV that Mom made me march for had anything to do with the Oaks. But the way Officer Stewart had stood over us, ordering us around when we hadn’t done anything wrong, made me think about how bad things could happen even when you’re trying to do good.

  At school on Monday, word traveled fast about Officer Stewart forcing Kari into his police car. That’s one of the bad things about having a close community. Everybody knows everybody’s business. Apparently, my neighbor Mrs. York saw Kari in the back seat of the police car as it drove away. After a string of text messages and phone calls, the word was out.

  Kari hadn’t talked much about it. Actually, for all I knew he hadn’t said anything at all after leaving our house the next day. I knew how scared he must have been, but he kept it all bottled up inside. The image of him exploding was what made me worry. Kinda like a bottle of soda shaken over and over, then POP!—an explosion.

  Everyone rallied around Kari to show support, everyone except Mya. Mya was being even more Mya than she usually was.

  “I heard the block party didn’t turn out so great,” she said. The glare in her eyes brimmed with mean.

  “Actually, it turned out pretty awesome. You should’ve come,” I said.

  “It turned out pretty awesome? Right. When? Before Kari went and got himself arrested?”

  “Kari wasn’t arrested, and that police officer was wrong, not Kari,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I can’t believe you’re letting one stupid joke from a long time ago come between you and Kari. We used to all be best friends.”

  “Look, Wes, things change,” Mya said, putting her hands on her hips. “And with all the changes going on around here, I need to tell you something. My dad bringing me all the way to the Grove isn’t working out. He only agreed to let me go to school here because I promised him I would stay out of trouble and keep my grades up, and that was only a two-month trial. That trial didn’t include planning parties or having my friends—or used-to-be-friend—get arrested.”

  I knew Mya didn’t like hanging with us like she used to, but I never expected her to act like this.

  Mya continued, “So this week is my last week at the Grove. It makes more sense for me to go to the middle school closest to my house.”

  Instead of going back and forth with Mya, I walked away. I’d tried to stay out of this mess with her and Kari, but this time I needed to be there for him.

  These past few days had been the longest. I’d spent most of it trying to forget about the police stopping Kari and my fight with Mya. I’d finally chosen climate change as my topic (I stole that idea from Brent) for the fall project, but I hadn’t even started on the paper yet.

  Instead of waiting for Mom to wake me up the next morning, I rolled out of bed and headed to the park before school to shoot hoops. I needed something, anything, to clear my head. I grabbed my good ball and worked on my handles on the short walk over to the park. The pulse from the ball bouncing against the beat-up pavement vibrated through me—the rhythm giving me energy.

  I was practicing free throws when Dad walked up.

  “Clearing your mind?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said. I was glad Dad didn’t press me to say any more. He fell in beside me, shooting a couple free throws to get warmed up. Then we played a quick game of one-on-one.

  I still wasn’t able to beat Dad, but I did make him break a sweat. I was a whole foot shorter, making it a little difficult to block Dad’s shot, but what I lacked in size I made up for in effort, and I had quick hands.

  “It’s time to clean up and get to school,” Dad said as he sank the winning basket.

  “I’m gonna beat you one day,” I said, running to grab the rebound.

  “One day maybe, but not today,” Dad said, laughing.

  * * *

  • • •

  All the energy from that morning dripped out of my fingers and crept down the hall when I crossed the doorway into Ms. Hardy’s class.

  The thing I dreaded most about Ms. Hardy’s class was having my quiz paper returned. She had this painful ritual where she walked the papers around to each student. She passed out the good grades first, the so-so grades next, and the bad grades last. I didn’t think that was fair. Yes, maybe I should get better grades, but that was my business and no one else’s.

  I slumped into my seat behind Alyssa and waited.

  “Good morning, class,” Ms. Hardy started. “Please direct your attention to the front of the classroom. Today we’ll be going over the quiz you took last week.” A rumble of grunts shook the room as soon as the word quiz escaped her lips. “Ahem, like I said, we will be reviewing the quiz.” Ms. Hardy raised her voice to speak over the rumbles. “I’m proud to say we had three students with a perfect score!”

  I knew one of those three was Alyssa. She had the highest grade in the class, and she always got her quiz paper returned first. She’d probably grow up to be a mathematician or maybe even one of those super-smart computer programmers. Ms. Hardy said girls are taking the tech world by storm. Yeah, I could see Alyssa doing that.

  Ms. Hardy smiled as she handed Alyssa her quiz. I peeked around Alyssa’s braided ponytail to see a bright pink A++ written at the top of her paper. I waited for my turn. Ms. Hardy made her way from one side of the room to the other, handing out papers. As her stack got thinner and thinner, I knew I wasn’t in the so-so group this time.

  When she finally stopped in front of me, she had four papers left. Three kids had done worse than I had. I cringed when I saw the huge red D at the top of my paper. I tucked it into my folder before anyone else could see it.

  When will I ever need to know the volume and surface area of a rectangular prism, anyway?

  Ms. Hardy went over the quiz, question by question, reworking each problem. She said she would let the kids with low grades turn in extra credit to improve their score if we brought the quiz back to her initialed by a parent. I had another lecture coming.

  I was on my way to lunch when Kari stopped me in the hallway.

  “Wes, I need your help,” he said. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that it couldn’t be good.

  “Wassup, Kari? You okay?”

  “My mom made her mind up. She says we have to move to my aunt’s house.”

  “What? When?” Dang, I couldn’t believe Kari was gonna have to move again.

  “In two weeks.”

  “Why now?”

  “After the thing happened with the police, we keep getting patrol cars riding past the hotel. The guys around the way let it be known that they don’t like the extra attention. I don’t think the police are after me, but it could start trouble for the other guys. I told my mom we should file a complaint, like your dad said. But she thinks that would get me into more trouble.”

  “But the officer was wrong,” I said.

  “I know! That’s what I told Mom. She said it’s best if we leave town, though. She already wanted to, and now with all these new police officers starting trouble, she doesn’t want to wait.”

  Maybe Ms. Tasha was right. Getting Kari away from the hotel could be a good thing.

  But what if he didn’t have to move all the way to his aunt’s? This c
ould be a way for me to make it up to him for not being there this summer.

  “Maybe you can stay with us for a while. I’m sure my mom and dad would be fine with it.” I wasn’t sure sure, but pretty sure—I mean, Kari had always stayed nights at our house, especially when things were going down between his parents. This was kinda like the same thing.

  “You think they’ll let me?”

  “Of course they will.” At least I hoped so. Mom and Dad are all about helping people, and Dad had said himself that he missed Kari being around.

  That afternoon, when the last bell rang, me and Kari met up in the courtyard. We would get the okay and move Kari’s things that night. We planned to present our idea at dinner.

  When Mom started to scoop chicken potpie onto my plate, I gave Kari the nod.

  He wasted no time starting the conversation. “I talked to my mom about filing the complaint with the police department. She said it was a bad idea.”

  That really got Dad’s attention, ’cause he even put his fork down and turned toward Kari. “Did she say why?” Dad asked.

  “She said it would only make the officer madder.”

  “Well, Kari, you have to respect your mother’s decision,” Dad said. That definitely meant he didn’t agree.

  “She also said we’d be better off moving out of town for a while,” Kari continued. “She’s worried about Danica.”

  “So Kari can stay with us, right?” I asked, turning to Dad.

  “Wait a minute, Wes,” Dad said, pushing his chair back from the table.

  “There’s no reason for Kari to leave. Ms. Tasha and Danica can go, and he can stay with us,” I went on. “He’s had to move enough times already.”

  “Wes, hold on,” Mom said. “That’s not a decision we can make so easily.”

  “There are lots of things to consider, and we would need to talk to Tasha,” Dad said. “Kari, when does your mom want to leave?”

  “In two weeks.”