Then the bell rings.
Instead of sprinting off as usual, Isabella straightens up and sighs. “Shay’s right. We all have something, so let’s not fight about it, okay?” When neither Julia nor I says anything right away, Isabella says, “Okay?” a little louder and more forcefully.
“Okay!” Julia and I both say at the same time, but neither of us sounds happy about it.
“Good,” Isabella says. “I’d make you hug it out, but I gotta go.” She shakes her head at both of us before running off.
“Cool?” Julia asks me, and holds out her fist.
“Cool,” I say, and bump her fist with mine.
When I get to PE, I have to think about what to do about my armband. I have to take it off to change, but then what? Should I tie it back on? Is it part of my school clothes? Would Coach West have a problem with me wearing it? She’s the only Black teacher I have, and I think she’d understand about the armband, but I also don’t want it to be a big deal.
I put the armband in my gym locker. But when I see Yolanda, I wish I was wearing it. She doesn’t seem happy to see me at all, and I don’t want to give up Isabella or Julia, but it would be nice to have a friend who had hair like mine, or knew how it felt for a classroom of kids to stare at you when your teacher decides to show some of the Roots miniseries. A friend whose dad listens to old-school R&B and likes to cha-cha in the kitchen and sing about how today was a good day. A friend who knows being Black means all sorts of things. A friend who shares this awful thing, this feeling like maybe the world sort of hates you because of the color of your skin.
“Hi, Yolanda!” I talk loud, trying to show her how happy I am to see her.
“Hi,” she says, but she doesn’t show me her upside-down Y.
“You’ve been really into your project in shop.” I hope I sound interested and not complainy. She’s been so into working hard on her projects that she basically ignores me completely in shop now. I don’t know if she thinks I was mean to Tyler, but I really wasn’t trying to be. In PE he’s not around, so maybe she won’t get stuck on that. And she doesn’t have a birdhouse or electric wiring to distract her. In PE we can go back to the way it used to be, when it felt like we were becoming friends. At least I hope so.
“I guess,” she says. Her head swivels around like she is looking for something or somebody. Somebody who isn’t me.
“Your hair looks great today,” I say. It’s actually not very exciting this time. Just two basic braids, but it’s not like I can say that.
Maybe Yolanda knows I was giving her a fake compliment, because she doesn’t even say Thank you; she just blows air through her teeth.
“Maybe you could come over one day after school?” I say. I’m still smiling really big, even though she isn’t smiling at all.
“Oh,” she says. “I’d have to ask.”
“Okay!” I say, as if she said, Yes, I’d love to come over and hang out and eat chips and giggle about boys and try your momma’s fried chicken and become super good friends. I’m good at pretending sometimes. I nod and say it again, “Okay!”
Coach West blows her whistle, and we line up to pick teams for softball.
Yolanda is a team captain, and she doesn’t pick me even though everybody knows your friend is the absolute first person you should pick. But maybe she doesn’t pick me because I strike out a lot.
After English, I walk slowly to our lunch table, the tails of my armband hanging limply down my arm. Ms. Jacobs didn’t seem to notice my armband. But she did talk about the next book we were going to read. To Kill a Mockingbird. She said it’s about a big trial, and the South when it was super prejudiced and racist against Black people (that’s not the way she said it) and about people not treating other people fairly. It feels like we’re living that story right now, so I don’t know if we need to read a book about it.
“What about Brown Girl Dreaming?” I said, without meaning to.
Ms. Jacobs looked at me, startled. “Excuse me?”
My neck got hot. I don’t usually think out loud. But Daddy’s right—there’s a whole bunch of perspectives out there we could learn from. “It’s just, we could read . . . books by . . . like, other people?”
Ms. Jacobs got a little frowny face, and I’m guessing she’s not used to anyone suggesting a different book.
Someone laughed behind me, and I sure wished Ms. Jacobs would stop looking at me. I started picking at my desk. “Black people have things to say too,” I said, so softly it was nothing more than a whisper. Thankfully, the bell rang and I was able to escape to lunch.
When I join Isabella and Julia at our table, I look over where Alex stood singing, and think about getting up there and yelling about my life mattering, but I sure don’t do it. I twirl the ends of my armband round and round. It feels almost like it’s Halloween again and I’m just in a protesting costume.
“Maybe you could bring me an armband,” Isabella says, like she knows I’m feeling kind of sad.
“It’s for Black lives mattering,” Julia says.
Isabella shrugs. “Well, I’m brown. Seems like that’s close enough. And technically, Shayla’s brown.”
“You don’t have to be Black to support Black Lives Matter,” I say. Inside I’m wondering, though. Would it be okay for Isabella to wear an armband?
53
Black & Blue
In shop, Yolanda has her head down low over her circuit board and doesn’t look up when I take my seat next to her.
I reach over and touch her arm, so softly at first, I don’t think she feels it, so I press harder and then she looks up, and asks me what? with her eyes and grumpy face.
I swallow hard because I haven’t practiced what I‘m going to say. “I—I just wanted you to know me and Tyler weren’t ever talking,” I whisper. “He misunderstood. . . .” I don’t want to make it seem like it was all Tyler’s fault. “I should’ve said something sooner. But I straightened it out with him.”
A bit of grump slides off of Yolanda’s face. She doesn’t look mad anymore. She looks like she’s listening. Then she looks at my arm. “What’s that for?” she asks.
This isn’t something I want to whisper, so I say in a regular voice, “For all the people who’ve been shot. And for the jury getting it wrong.”
Tyler looks over at us, and he’s so light-skinned, I can see the blush covering his face. I think he’s going to pretend he wasn’t listening, so I won’t yell at him for butting in, but then he says, “Black lives matter.”
Yolanda nods and then totally shocks me by asking me, “Will you bring me one?” She gives me a tiny peek at her upside-down Y.
“Of course.” And I decide right then I’ll bring one for Isabella too. It’ll be nice to have some armband company.
“Blue lives matter,” a boy at a workbench behind us says. His name is Alvin.
Some people think Black people are against the police because of Black Lives Matter. They think we are saying all police are bad and we hate them. Police wear blue, so saying blue lives matter is like saying blue versus Black. Momma says it’s just trying to stir up a mess of trouble. I agree. I don’t hate the police. Even Hana doesn’t hate the police. Uncle Shelly is a cop, and he’s the coolest. So I say, “Of course blue lives matter, stupid.”
Mr. Klosner twists his mustache and tells us to get back to work.
Tyler looks at my armband and then down, and I bet he wants to ask me to bring him one, but he doesn’t.
When I get changed for track practice, I look at my pile of folded clothes in my gym locker, rub my hands on my thighs, and decide to leave my armband on. Coach West might not like it, but I want to leave it on. It feels important.
Coach West doesn’t make me take it off. She nods at it and gives me a thumbs-up. So many people wear them at Black Lives Matter rallies and protests, I’m sure she knows what it’s for. I’m glad she’s not going to stop me.
During our warm-up mile, the tails of the armband flap behind me, and it makes me feel
almost as if I have wings.
Angie runs past me, but then she slows down so I can catch up with her. She smiles at me and points at my armband. “Black lives, right?”
A warm scoop of peach cobbler floats around in my stomach. In my head, I say, “Yes, sister.” In my head, I say, “Power to the people.” In my head, I say, “Let’s become really good friends.” Out loud, I say, “Right.”
Angie runs next to me for the rest of our warm-up, and it feels like when you’ve been trying and trying to get the two parts of a zipper to fit together at the bottom and are starting to wonder if it’s broken because they won’t connect, and then suddenly, whoosh! they just slide right into place.
Maybe doing something isn’t all that hard.
54
Down
The next day I bring Isabella and Julia an armband. We are the United Nations and it will feel good to do this together.
At break, I pull two strips of black material out of my pocket.
“Cool,” Isabella says, and puts hers on right away.
Julia doesn’t take hers.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Shay. Don’t get me wrong. I’m down and everything, but . . .” Julia starts fiddling with her hair. Pulling it back behind her ears and then shaking it back out. Her blue highlights have faded, and now she has streaks of faded yellowish green in her hair. “I’m not sure if it makes sense for us to wear one of those.”
Isabella looks down at her own armband. “Huh?”
“You believe that Black lives matter, right?” I ask Julia, still holding out the armband I brought for her. “You know that verdict wasn’t fair?” The protests are worse now that the verdict came out. More and more people are shouting for change and shouting for justice. “Don’t you think things need to change?” I want her to say that change is important and we’re willing to fight for it, even if the fight is just wearing an armband.
“But it’s not like wearing it is going to change anything.” Julia looks down at the ground, but I can still see her face getting red. “And maybe it’s something only the Black kids should do?” She glances over at Isabella and then back down.
“I’m not giving mine back,” Isabella says.
I put Julia’s armband back in my pocket. “It’s cool,” I say, trying to act like I don’t care. “You don’t have to wear one.” I’m trying to understand what Julia said, but the truth is, I don’t.
It’s good I have PE after break, because I give Yolanda an armband and she grins really big at me as she ties it on. I think it’s the first true smile I’ve gotten from her in a really long time. She has black ribbons braided into her braids. I bet she was thinking about matching the armband I was bringing her.
I tell myself that Yolanda being excited about wearing an armband makes up for Julia not taking the armband I brought for her. But I can’t make myself believe it.
55
Friendships & Trash Cans
I’m hustling to English, hoping my quick work with a cleansing wipe was good enough to wipe off my PE sweat, when I see a bunch of guys around the trash can outside the cafeteria. Bernard is easy to spot because he’s so much bigger than the other guys, and plus he’s yelling. Loud.
I’m surprised that no teacher or Principal Trask has gotten over here and stopped this.
I think about skirting around them to get to class, but then I notice Alex in the middle of all those boys, and I can’t let Bernard beat up on my friend. Especially when Alex is so much smaller than Bernard.
Even though kids flood the walkway, heading to class, no one seems to be paying attention to what’s happening to Alex.
“Bernard!” I yell, and start marching over there. I thought I was wrong about Bernard, but here he is messing with Alex. I don’t care how big he is, that’s not cool.
One of the boys—Daniel—wraps his arms around Alex, and at first I think he’s trying to protect him, but then he lifts Alex off the ground and tries to shove Alex into the trash can. “You think you’re so funny,” Daniel says. “Let’s see you joke about this!”
Most of the boys are laughing, and a few try to grab Bernard’s arms, but Bernard is stronger than they are, and he hauls off and punches a guy and then yanks Alex from Daniel.
“You best back off!” Bernard hollers. “You ain’t putting Alex in the trash.”
I stop in my tracks. Wait. Bernard is protecting Alex?
“What are you going to do about it?” a boy named Marcus asks, like he’s so tough.
Bernard pushes Alex behind him and then he clobbers Marcus, and that’s just when Principal Trask walks outside the cafeteria.
“Bernard Walker!” she shouts, and all the boys freeze. “Why am I not surprised?” She glares at Bernard.
“Wait, Principal Trask,” Alex speaks up, but I can tell she’s not listening to him at all.
“Bernard started it!” one of the boys yells.
“Yeah,” Marcus yells, pressing a hand to his eye. “He punched me.”
“I can see what was happening here,” Principal Trask says.
One of the boys covers his mouth to keep from laughing.
“He started the whole thing,” Travis Noen says. Travis is one of those kids who look like they’re sweet and innocent, but are always up to something.
“No, that’s not—” Alex starts to say, but Principal Trask cuts him off.
“That’s enough!” she hollers. “All of you,” she adds, but she’s only looking at Bernard. She shakes her head at him like he is one sorry human and says, “Come with me, Bernard. This is the last straw.”
I look at Bernard, waiting for him to defend himself. Waiting for him to explain, but he’s just looking at the ground, shuffling his feet back and forth with his hands clenched into fists. My palms start biting at me, and my mouth feels like I sucked on cotton balls. I don’t know how many straws Bernard had, but I can’t watch him get his last one. “Principal Trask!”
Principal Trask turns her cold blue eyes on me and looks at me like I’m a bug. A bug she’s about to squash. “I’m handling something right now.”
I cross my arms tight across my chest and say, “You need to listen.”
I swear Principal Trask glances at my armband, and then she sniffs and wrinkles her nose like something stinks. “Young lady, do not tell me what I need to do.”
Something stinks, all right.
“But you’re getting it wrong. Bernard was only protecting Alex.” Suddenly, a bunch of mean boy eyes are staring at me, but I don’t care. “They were trying to trash Alex, and Bernard stopped them.”
Principal Trask’s eyes go from Bernard to Alex to the other boys and then back to me. “I seriously doubt—”
“It’s the truth!” Alex says, madder than I’ve ever heard him.
Principal Trask ignores Alex. She takes a step toward Bernard. “Take that off,” she says, pointing at Bernard’s arm.
Bernard has a black sock tied around his arm. He must’ve come up with the idea after first period, because I definitely would’ve noticed it in science. Especially since this sock is dirty.
“I won’t!” Bernard yells, his face and his fists scrunched up tight.
“What did you say?” Principal Trask asks menacingly. As loud as he shouted, she sure heard him, all right. “Take it off.”
“I don’t have to do what you say!” Bernard booms. “I’m not taking off nothing.”
“Just take it off, Bernard,” I say. It’s not fair, but I don’t want to see him get into trouble. Especially when I’m the one who started the whole armband thing.
“I don’t want to!” he hollers, but I know it’s not me he’s mad at.
I don’t know what to do, but then Coach West rushes up, all out of breath. “I saw them,” she says. “I was coming as fast as I could to help. Shayla’s right.” She puts her hand on Bernard’s back.
Principal Trask’s eyes flick between my armband and Bernard’s sock like they might just tell her
a different story.
Coach West doesn’t have to lean down much to be face to face with Bernard. “Maybe you should take that off for now?” Her voice is gentle.
Bernard looks like he’s going to cry, and his hands get all fumbly trying to take off the sock, so Coach West helps him.
Travis snickers and Bernard glares at him. You bet Travis’s smirk slides right off his face.
Principal Trask wipes her hands together. “Bernard, regardless of the reason, fighting at this school is taken seriously.”
Coach West steps forward. “Why don’t we discuss this in your office, Dorothy.”
Lots of kids have stopped to watch now, and I don’t think Principal Trask likes that very much, or maybe she just doesn’t like Coach West calling her Dorothy.
“Fine,” she says. “All of you come with me.” Then she looks at me and Alex. “You both can go to class.”
“Are you okay, Alex?” Coach West asks, and he nods. “Why don’t you come with us,” she tells him. “Make sure we get the whole story.”
Principal Trask and the boys walk off. I want to go to Principal Trask’s office too, to make sure she listens to Bernard and Alex, but then Coach West tells me, “Don’t worry, Shayla, I’ll make sure Principal Trask understands. Go ahead and get to class.”
On my way to English, I don’t think at all about how much trouble I’m going to be in for being late. All I can think about is how Bernard the bully is really Bernard the hero.
When I tell the story at lunch, Julia doesn’t believe me. “Are you sure he was protecting Alex?”
“Yes,” I say, tired of explaining.
“But he’s so mean,” Julia says.
Isabella says, “Maybe not.”
Julia gives me an accusing look. “You’re the one who said he was going to kill you in science.”
“But I was wrong. That’s what I’m trying to explain.” I don’t understand why Julia can’t see Bernard in the new light I’m shining right on him.
A Good Kind of Trouble Page 16