But Daddy repeats what he said.
“Lord, Lord,” is all Momma says. She rubs more oil into my hair.
“When is this going to stop?” Daddy asks, but I don’t think he’s asking me or Momma the question.
“Is there a video?” Momma asks.
Daddy sucks his teeth. “Like that’s going to make a difference?”
My head feels heavy like there are bricks sitting on top. That video sure didn’t help in the trial, so I know what Daddy means. I wonder if Principal Trask had already heard about the shooting when she decided to ban armbands.
“We’ll get through this,” Momma says. “That’s what we do.”
She pats the top of my head, letting me know she’s done, and then she gives me a kiss and tells me to get into bed.
She follows Daddy out of my room, and I know they are going to be up late talking about this.
I’m tired but I can’t sleep. I keep tossing and turning and looking for that comfortable spot, but it’s hiding from me. I creep out of bed and go to Hana’s room.
Her music is so loud coming out of her headphones, I can hear it across the room, but she turns it off so I can talk to her.
“Principal Trask said we have to stop wearing the armbands. She said it’s a dress-code violation.” I say that last bit super sarcastic so Hana can know right away that my principal is being unfair.
“Yeah, I was wondering when that was going to happen,” Hana says. She looks up at the picture of Kaepernick. “Folks aren’t about to let any type of protest go down without trying to stop it. Guess they think that’s better than fixing the actual problem.”
“But it’s not fair! She shouldn’t be able to do that.” I feel sort of like crying and also like punching something.
“So what are you going to do about it?” Hana asks.
“I don’t want to stop wearing it,” I say. “Especially not now.”
“Then don’t.”
I know wearing an armband hasn’t changed anything, but I can’t stop wearing it now.
I really don’t want to get into trouble, though.
62
Take a Stand
In the morning, my palms are itching so bad, it’s hard to tie my armband on. I don’t think I have ever done something I know one hundred percent is going to land me in a whole heap of stinky trouble. And part of me is trying to tell the other part that it is sort of silly. I’m not going to keep anybody from getting shot just by wearing an armband. But the louder part of me is saying that people need to start paying attention. I tie another knot in my armband, making sure it’s good and tight.
Hana raises her fist and winks at me as I’m heading out of the house, and I raise my fist too. She looks proud of me, and that feels like maple syrup sliding down my throat.
On the way to school, Momma has the car radio turned to a news station, and they’re talking about a big Black Lives Matter protest happening in front of the Wilshire Community police station. That’s right by my aunt Yvonne’s house. Momma’s hands get really tight on the steering wheel, but she doesn’t change the station.
I twirl the tail of my armband. I still haven’t told Momma about Principal Trask saying we couldn’t wear armbands anymore. I’m not sure if Momma would be mad or proud of me. But I guess I’ll find out.
I put my sweater on when I go into school, because I don’t want Principal Trask to see my armband before I even get to first period.
Science is loud because Mr. Levy is fiddling with a plastic skeleton and not paying attention to us. Even though the bell already rang, lots of kids are up talking.
Bernard comes over to my desk and towers over me. I can’t tell if he’s smiling or scowling, and I realize he just has one of those faces.
He’s wearing the armband I gave him, and I can’t help but worry about that. “Do you think you should take that off? So you don’t get into trouble?”
Bernard looks at his armband, then back at me. “Did you take yours off?”
I pull off my sweater and smile. “Nope.”
“Some stuff it’s okay to get in trouble for,” he says, and shrugs.
Maybe when you get in trouble enough times, it stops scaring you, but my hands are itching so bad, I have to rub them hard against my jeans.
“Bernard, take your seat,” Mr. Levy says, sounding super exasperated.
Suddenly, I’m tired of how Mr. Levy seems to pick on Bernard, and even though my hands are itching even more, I say loud enough for Mr. Levy to hear, “Other people are up too.”
Mr. Levy looks at me like he’s never seen me before.
“You better sit down,” I tell Bernard.
Bernard frowns, but he goes to the back of the room and squeezes into his desk.
63
Rules
“I thought those were against the rules,” Isabella says, nodding at my armband. She’s not wearing hers and I’m not mad about it, but I sort of wish she still had it on.
“That’s what Principal Trask said,” I say. I reach into her bag of Cheez-Its and take a couple.
Isabella doesn’t say anything for a second. She’s probably wondering if body snatchers took the real Shayla away or something, because she knows how I feel about getting into trouble.
But so far, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal at all that I decided to wear my armband. I’m almost a little disappointed.
I don’t know what I expected. Not police dogs or anything, but when I saw it wasn’t just me who decided to break the no-armband rule today, I did have visions of all of us rule-breaking, armband-wearing students getting rounded up. But nothing’s happened.
Isabella and I go our separate ways after break, and I think how weird it is that it’s not all that weird for it to be just Isabella and me.
In fourth period, right before lunch, Principal Trask comes back on the PA to remind us about dress-code violations.
Ms. Jacobs sighs, and then she looks at the Emerson quote about being on your own path. And then she gives me a teeny nod.
I guess Emerson wasn’t talking about armbands, but I think he was talking about doing something brave.
My armband is staying on.
When I sit down for lunch, I make myself not even look over at Julia sitting with her other friends. If she doesn’t miss me, I don’t miss her.
Isabella says maybe I should take the armband off, but I shake my head hard, and then I see Principal Trask heading over to the basketball courts. She is holding scissors.
I get up right away and follow her, and Isabella follows me. A bunch of other people leave the lunch area too to see what’s going on.
Even though Principal Trask is holding those scissors out like a sword, I’m still shocked when she starts cutting off people’s armbands. I don’t get close enough to hear what everyone’s saying, but I can tell that there are lots of angry voices. Principal Trask doesn’t look like she cares one bit that people are upset about her cutting off their armbands; she just keeps snipping.
I put my hand over my armband as if she’s about to cut mine off too, but I’m too far away for her to even notice.
“That’s so messed up,” Isabella whispers.
I’m not sure what to do, because I want to go over there and show I’m part of the armband-wearing group, but if I do, it will mean my armband will get cut off.
“Come on,” I say to Isabella. “Let’s go back.”
When we return to our table, Julia catches my gaze, and her eyes are full of concern just like mine.
For the rest of lunch, I wait for Principal Trask to come over to the overhang lunch area and cut off armbands from everyone who’s still wearing them, but she doesn’t. It sort of makes me feel sick that she only went over to the basketball courts, like she thinks Black students are the problem.
After school, I’m kicking pinecones while waiting for Momma to pick me up. I’m kicking them really hard. I wanted, just this once, to get into trouble. But then I didn’t. I probably should’ve gone ov
er to the basketball courts. I wish I had been braver.
And then Principal Trask walks right by me.
And then she backs up.
Like maybe she can’t believe her eyes.
“Young lady,” she says, “I am sure you heard my announcements about the dress code.”
I look down at what I’m wearing, like I have no clue what she’s talking about. My palms are itching but I barely feel it. “I’m obeying the dress code,” I say, my voice wobbly.
She blinks at me. She points to the armband. “That is against dress code.”
“I don’t think—” I start to say, but I’m not sure exactly what is going to follow those words, and it doesn’t matter because Principal Trask cuts me right off.
“What is your name?”
“Shayla,” I say. “Shayla Willows.”
“Aren’t you on the track team?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Shayla, if you want to stay on the team, make sure I don’t see that tomorrow.” And then she walks off.
Momma pulls up right then, and when I get in the car she asks me what Principal Trask wanted.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just making sure I had a ride.” I didn’t plan to lie to Momma. And let me tell you, lying is probably the worst thing you can do in my family. Talk about trouble! But I know I’m going to wear my armband tomorrow, and I can’t let Momma stop me before I have the opportunity to truly protest.
Tomorrow I’m going to find out just what big trouble feels like. For real.
Today I felt like I was a part of something and apart from it at the same time.
64
Go Down Big
In the morning, Hana hands me a bag. It is full of black armbands.
“If you’re going to go down,” she says, “go down big.”
I swallow the sour-apple lump lodged in my throat and rub my hands hard against my legs.
I will be super sad to be off the track team. But there isn’t one thing about armbands in the school handbook. Principal Trask is wrong.
I ask Momma if she will drop me off to school early so I can take care of a special project.
I wait for her to ask what the project is, but she just looks at her watch and says, “Oh, sugar, that would actually help me out a lot.”
When she drops me off, she gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you after school.”
Maybe I should feel guiltier for not telling Momma what I’m up to, but I’m hoping she’ll understand.
Since it’s early, only a few kids stand around in front of the school. They’ll be my first targets.
“Black Lives Matter!” I shout to get their attention. And then I start handing out armbands.
Except for one girl, they all take one. This is going great.
A few minutes later, more students come, and I shove an armband into everyone’s hand. I keep hollering, “Black Lives Matter,” and some other people join in. I wish I’d made signs. I wish I had my phone to video this.
Isabella gets dropped off, and she giggles when she sees me. She holds out her hand for an armband like it’s a party favor. “This is awesome, Shay!”
“This is important, Is,” I say, giving her an armband.
Julia and her whole squad stopped wearing their armbands yesterday, but today they get new ones. Stacy gives me a high five and says, “You know what I’m talking about, sister.” I can’t even be mad because I’m so happy that they all want one of my armbands.
Sometimes it’s like the world is telling us that being Black is the worst thing you can be, but right now it feels like people are not only saying that Black lives matter, but that being Black is the best. My smile is so big, it hurts.
Julia smiles at me as she takes an armband. “Thanks, Shay.”
Angie asks for a handful just as the bell rings for first period. We all start heading inside. A bunch of Emerson students of all different races are shouting that Black lives matter. I don’t care that not everyone took an armband. It just feels great to be united.
“Shayla Willows!” Principal Trask’s voice booms like she has a microphone. “Give me that bag.”
I throw the bag to Angie, who runs up the pathway and through the silver front doors of our school. Man, that girl is fast.
“What bag?” I ask Principal Trask.
She tugs at my armband. “These are expressly forbidden!”
I hear a ripping sound, and then Principal Trask is standing there holding my armband. I’ve never been so mad. “Give that back!”
Principal Trask bends down a little so we are face to face. “I want you to go around and take back every armband you passed out. If you don’t, I will see you in my office and your parents will be called. Being off the track team is just the beginning.” Her breath smells like black licorice, which is maybe one of the nastiest smells ever.
I take a step back and feel a bad quivering in my bottom lip. My nose starts burning. I don’t want Principal Trask to see me cry.
“Did you hear me, Miss Willows?”
“Yes.” It is just one word, but it sounds a whole lot like defeat. Momma always told me and Hana we had to act better than other kids because people expected less of us. Getting called to the principal’s office is definitely not acting better. “Principal Trask, it’s our right to protest.”
“I expect my rules to be followed.” Principal Trask is so sure I’m not going to argue, she marches off without waiting for me to say anything else.
I don’t know what to do.
After science, Bernard asks me if I want him to take off his armband so I won’t get into trouble. And I almost say yes.
Almost.
“No,” I say. “Do you think you can find me another one?” I sure hope there is at least one left in the bag.
I don’t know what is going to happen, and my palms itch, but I can’t worry about that.
Mr. Powell tells me to wait after class, and I’m nervous all over again that he’s going to tell me this is what he warned me about and I better stop messing up.
“Shayla, I just wanted to let you know I’m proud of you. It takes courage to stand up for what’s right.” He smiles at me, but then his smile slips. “You know, there are times when people want me to feel bad about who I am,” he says, and sighs. “But I am who I am. I’m not about to apologize for it. I wear bright scarves even though I know some people make fun of them.”
I wish I could argue with him, but it’s true. Some people do make rude comments.
Mr. Powell’s smile returns, and he straightens up tall. “But hey, I like them. It’s a small thing, but I hope some students may realize it’s okay to be different.”
“It’s not anyone’s business what you wear,” I say.
Mr. Powell winks at me and says, “I think you’re absolutely right.” Then he puts his hand out for a fist bump.
Mr. Powell is so cool.
Instead of going to our spot, Isabella and I just walk around at break, and I see so many people wearing armbands, I get those busy butterflies in my stomach. Angie finds me and gives me back my bag. It is almost empty, but there are a few armbands left. I put one on right away and Isabella helps me pass out the rest.
I don’t see Principal Trask, and I bet it’s because she knows she is totally outnumbered. But she also knows I’m the one who passed out all those armbands, and I don’t think she’s going to forget about me.
Yolanda flashes me a big upside-down-Y smile in PE, and when Coach West makes me Rebels team captain for Star Wars tag, I pick Yolanda first for my team.
In English, Ms. Jacobs is just finishing writing a new quote on the board when I walk in.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
—Maya Angelou
Then she reads Maya Angelou’s whole poem out loud. The poem is called “Still I Rise,” and even though Ms. Jacobs
is staring at me like she read the poem just for me, I don’t shrink low in my seat. I straighten up tall and proud. I smile at Ms. Jacobs, and she gives me a small smile back. I’m going to print out a copy of Maya Angelou’s poem when I get home and stick it right up on my wall.
65
Show Me
Lunch is wild.
We march around the lunch area, and around the track, and by the basketball courts, chanting “Black Lives Matter!” and it feels awesome. And I feel like we matter, for real. A bunch of teachers watch, but none of them stop us.
I’m not sure why so many people wear my armbands. Maybe it’s just the excitement of breaking the rules. Or maybe it’s because a lot of us know we won’t have many chances to shout out loud that we matter.
Coach West claps for us when we’re marching and waves at me, and that’s when I see she is wearing a black armband too.
And then someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Come with me, young lady,” a very angry voice says, right into my ear.
Principal Trask’s mouth is so firm and sharp, we could use it in shop as a saw.
I follow her to the office, and before we go into the building, I hear someone shout, “Free Shayla!” That makes me smile.
You bet I stop smiling when Principal Trask tells me she’s called Momma, though.
“She’ll be here in a few minutes,” Prinicipal Trask says, and points to a chair right outside her office. “Sit here and wait, please.”
I sit.
I am in so much trouble. I didn’t know how much I loved being on the track team until now. And I threw it away. Worse, I’ve let Momma and Daddy down. They’ve told me and Hana over and over again how important it is that we stay out of trouble in school. My hand travels to my armband, and even though part of me feels like someone punched me in the stomach, a tiny bit of that proud feeling I had a few minutes ago tingles in my fingers. Still, my eyes start brimming with tears.
When Momma walks in and I see the big frown on her face, I stand up on trembly legs and follow her into Principal Trask’s office.
A Good Kind of Trouble Page 18