The boy shrugged. “They’re all great, true, but Shakespeare came first. Anyway, my name is Isaiah Jordan and, like I said, I’m here to help. You say you need a place to practice for your show; my dad’s church happens to have a rec room you might be able to use. It’s Mount Calvary Baptist.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Um, yeah.”
“How soon will you know if we can use the room?” I was so excited my words burst out of me like a racehorse.
“I’ll ask my dad tonight. Give me your number and I’ll call you and tell you what he says.”
I couldn’t believe it. We’d only just expanded our network and already things were looking up!
As soon as Red and I got into the car that afternoon, I spilled the big news to Mama. I couldn’t get the story out fast enough, telling her all about asking Principal Stewart, the announcement in the gym, and ending with Isaiah’s offer. I stopped talking long enough to take a breath and Mama said, “Why didn’t you make the announcement, Gabby?”
Of all the questions I expected Mama to ask, that was not one of them. “I don’t know. I mean, um, you know why,” I muttered.
Mama pulled into our driveway, and the three of us went inside. Daddy was still at work; the house was quiet and dark. Mama led us into the kitchen and started washing off pieces of fruit.
“So,” she began, her voice trailing off.
“It’ll be awesome if Isaiah’s dad says yes,” I said.
“Oh, absolutely,” Mama agreed. “One of the guys at your father’s job might have a place, too, just in case things with your friend don’t work out.” She paused. “Gabby, did you try to use the techniques Mrs. Baxter taught you?”
I groaned. “I tried, but I couldn’t do it, so Teagan jumped in to help.”
Mama’s face softened. “And how do you feel about that?”
“Fine,” I said, but that feeling in the pit of my stomach was back again, only stronger this time. You’re annoyed at yourself for freezing up because that boy snickered, I thought. A little, that was true. But that wasn’t all of it. I was annoyed at Teagan, too, for jumping in with Principal Stewart and with the announcement in the gym. If I’d just taken another few seconds, visualized the words in my head and then pinned them down—I could’ve been the one to speak up both times for Liberty. I knew in my heart that Teagan was just trying to support me, so I pushed the feeling away.
“I’m fine with it,” I said again, just as my phone rang.
I picked it up immediately. “Hello?”
“How fares, my lady?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s Isaiah. ‘How fares, my lady?’ is Shakespearean lingo for ‘how are you?’”
“Oh. Okay.”
Pause.
“So?” Isaiah said.
“So, what?” I replied.
“How are you?”
“Fine. What did your dad say about the rec room?” I blurted out, realizing only after I’d spoken how rude I sounded. “Sorry,” I quickly added, catching Mama’s disapproving look. “We’re just really, um, like—” I groped around for the right word.
“Anxious,” Red supplied.
“Anxious,” I said.
“I get it. Well, my father said yes. You can use the rec room at our church free of charge for rehearsals or whatever you need it for until Liberty is back to its old self again.”
I let out a whoop. “Starting when?”
“As soon as you’re ready.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Hang on,” Mama said. “I’d like to speak to his father.”
I asked Isaiah to get his father on the phone, then handed my phone over to Mama. She carried it into the living room. I could hear Mama saying, “Thanks. And the dimensions are … I see. That sounds like it might work. Do you have any pics you can send me?”
“Sounds like she wants to use the space,” I whispered.
Red was beaming. We’d done it. We’d shown Mama we could help fix Liberty. We had found a place for rehearsals, which meant we’d be ready for Rhythm and Views. Mama and Mr. Harmon could still teach their classes, too. This was the lightest I’d felt since Saturday, so light that I jumped up from my chair and did a tuck jump right there in the kitchen. Red laughed.
“How do you even do that?” he asked. “It’s like you have wings.”
At that moment, I felt like I had wings, too. Maybe I hadn’t presented our case to Principal Stewart or made the announcement in the gym, but I’d played a part in helping us find a temporary home for our Liberty family. And that counted for something.
“Victory,” Red said to me as we set the table for dinner a little while later.
It would be leftovers that night—Mama and Daddy, who’d just come in from work, were at the computer, coming up with a schedule for rehearsals and classes starting next week in the rec room.
“Victory,” Red repeated thoughtfully. “Feels like crossing the finish line.” He looked at me, raised his eyebrows.
“You want me to—”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Victory feels like crossing the finish line. It … it … um … um—oh, I don’t know. I’m not as good at this as you are!”
“And I’m not as good at jumping eighteen feet in the air with pointed toes, but I’ll try if it makes you feel better.”
“Red, you don’t have to—”
But Red had already put down the handful of paper napkins he was holding and was airborne. He twisted wildly in midair, landed a foot away from his starting point, and lost his balance. He crashed to the floor, knocking over the garbage can in the process.
“What’s going on in there?” Mama called.
I could hardly get my words out since I was laughing. “Nothing,” I gasped.
I laughed until hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Until I thought my chest would burst. Red got to his feet, a smile plastered on his face. “So like I was saying, I know you can rhyme better than I can leap. So try it. What does victory sound like? Look like? Taste like?”
“Taste like?” I wiped at my eyes.
“Yeah. Taste like.”
I thought for a moment. “Victory feels like crossing the finish line. It tastes sweet like Key lime pie.”
“Looks like the show going on in the final hour.”
“Sounds like Liberty, lights on, full power.”
Mama and Mr. Harmon needed some time to get organized at Mount Calvary, so Teagan, Red, and I had a lot of time to “enjoy our summer” that week. If it were any other summer, Teagan and I would have been hanging out at Liberty exploring old crawl spaces, or helping Mama or Mr. Harmon in their classes. Today, we were sitting on the back porch, making friendship bracelets to sell to raise money for Liberty. I knew it would take thousands and thousands of bracelets to cover the repairs, but I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Not when people like Stan and Mrs. Blake counted on Liberty. I wondered what they were doing today.
The screen door flew open. “What’re you up to, cuz, and cuz’s friend who wears a beanie even in the summer- time?”
I jumped up off the steps so fast, I knocked our box of embroidery thread halfway across the yard. “Red, you scared me!”
“And no one ever said beanies are only for the winter!” Teagan cried.
“Sorry,” Red replied. “But really, what are you doing?”
“We were making bracelets,” I said.
Red peered down at our efforts so far. “No Eagles’ or Phillies’ colors?” He shook his head. “Good thing I came out here, huh? We can make some in the team colors and ask Philly’s Finest to sell them for us.”
That actually wasn’t a bad idea.
Red sat down while Teagan got him some thread. Then she showed him how to tie the knots. A few minutes later, all three of us were sitting quietly, concentrating on our bracelets. The weaving of the colors reminded me of Liberty’s stained glass. It was about noon, so there wouldn’t be a ton of colored light on th
e worn floors—just some over by the heaters in studio seven.
Through the screen door came the sound of Mama’s voice. She was in the kitchen, talking to someone on her cell phone.
“Please tell her this is the fourth message I’ve left,” Mama said. “Yes, Tina McBride, regarding the Liberty Arts building repairs. Thank you.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Mama said, “Hi, Louis. Yes, the girls are just fine. I’m calling to tell you that I still haven’t heard from Julia. She hasn’t responded to any communication yet. Not even to the e-mail I sent her about the Dream Together campaign.”
Red and I looked at each other. We didn’t know they’d started an online fund-raising effort. Teagan pulled out her phone and silently found the page. They hadn’t raised much money yet.
“Yes,” Mama was saying now. That probably couldn’t hurt … How about I …” Her voice faded as she left the kitchen.
“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us they started this Dream Together campaign!” I said as soon as Mama was out of earshot. “We could’ve been spreading the word about that this whole week!”
“Seriously,” Red said. “We’ve been good about not asking too many questions—” He turned to Teagan. “Trying to give Aunt Tina some space and all that—but we still want to know what’s going on, even though they’re all, ‘leave it to the grown-ups.’”
“My grandpa’s been saying the same thing,” Teagan said miserably. “He says ‘Kids should have a summer, not be all wrapped up in adults’ business. Why in my day, all I knew about my father’s auto body shop was how to unclog the customer toilet.’”
“Ew,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” Teagan replied.
Mama wandered back into the kitchen. “Sounds great, Louis. I think this could work. Would you like to join us for lunch? We can tell them about it then.” A pause. “Yes, about the show, too. See you soon.”
I didn’t know what Mama and Mr. Harmon were planning to tell us over lunch, but suddenly I was very hungry.
“So,” Mama started, placing a pitcher of lemonade on the picnic table. “We wanted to ask you all something.” She eyed Mr. Harmon.
“You kids know we’ve been waiting to hear back from Ms. Santos about how the city wants to handle the repairs,” Mr. Harmon said. We all nodded. “Well, neither of us have heard a peep from her since she left Liberty last Saturday. We’re beginning to worry that Liberty could fall through the cracks at the city offices.”
Fall through the cracks? How could a whole building—a whole community—fall through the cracks? Mama ran her hand over her face. She was wearing a bracelet I’d made—purpley magenta, like my costume for the opening number of Rhythm and Views. I realized with a start that the show was exactly four weeks away. If the city didn’t come through, it didn’t matter how many friendship bracelets we made. Liberty wouldn’t be up and running again and there would be no show. Tiny tap dancers started tapping in my chest.
“So,” Mama said again, placing both hands flat on the table. “We’re thinking of having a rally next Sunday, out in front of the Liberty building, something to get the city’s atten—”
“I’m there, Aunt Tina! We’re all there! Just tell us what we can do to help!”
“Yeah!” Teagan and I echoed. Teagan was already reaching for Cody and a pen.
“Hold on,” Mama said. “Let me finish. We’re thinking the rally will get people’s attention …” She looked at Mr. Harmon.
“And then we’ll ask them to sign a petition to show their support for Liberty.”
I liked the sound of that.
Mama continued. “We figure we’ll need at least two hundred signatures. We can also hand out postcards with the Dream Together info on them—”
“Thanks for telling us about that, by the way,” I interrupted, and then immediately said, “Sorry. I-I-It’s just that we like to knnnnnow what’s going on with Liberty.”
“I know you do, Gabby,” Mama said. “That’s why we’re looping you in now. And we’ve been impressed with your bracelet efforts this past week. If we set up a table, would you sell them at the rally?”
That was something—Mama was at least asking us to help a little bit. “Of course,” I said. Red and Teagan agreed. But bracelets only made a difference if we got the city’s attention. Maybe this was our chance to do something more for Liberty, do something to right our wrong.
“What about the petitions?” I asked. “Can we help with those? A few of the poetry kids could have clipboards ready and we could grab people to sign the petition as they go by.” I sat up straighter to show I was serious about helping. Red and Teagan did, too.
Mama and Mr. Harmon did that thing where grown-ups talk to each other without talking at all. They just used their eyebrows and stuff. They nodded.
One week and one day from today, I would have the chance to really make a difference for Liberty.
Shoulder to shoulder
Chest to chest
On Germantown Avenue
Shouting
Telling everyone that Liberty is the best!
Our voices will carry
Across the street, the city
The state, the planet
Our love for Liberty will never vanish
Shoulder to shoulder
Chest to chest
On Germantown
Is where we’ll be
Praising Liberty
Monday was our first day at Mount Calvary Baptist, and I couldn’t wait to dance again—all those bracelets had made my body stiffer than a pair of Amelia’s brand-new pointe shoes. Mama, Red, and I met Mr. Jordan in the parking lot, and he walked us into the rec room. I gasped before I could stop myself.
The room was huge, but everything in it was gray and sharp. The walls were painted a silver gray, except for one, which was the brightest shade of yellow I’d ever seen. Even the hardwood floors were gray, the borders around the sparkling windows, and the futuristic chairs that looked like the hollowed-out halves of hard-boiled eggs. There weren’t any mirrors on the walls, just different black-and-white pictures of Philadelphia’s skyline.
“Completely redone,” Mr. Jordan said proudly. He had an Afro just like Isaiah’s. “As modern as modern can get. Virtually flawless.”
Liberty was full of what Mr. Jordan would probably think were flaws and outdated things like the phone niche in studio seven. How would I spot without that?
There wasn’t any stained glass in the windows, but the sunlight that came through them was bright and buttery. It pooled on the floor the same way it did at Liberty, and I had to admit, the futuristic chairs did look kind of cool. Plus, a few days before, Daddy and Mr. Harmon had rented a van to bring over some of the equipment from Liberty, like the ballet barre and artists’ easels. So even though the rec room wasn’t Liberty, a little bit of the center had made its way to Mount Calvary Baptist Church.
Mama thanked Mr. Jordan and he disappeared back upstairs. “Time to get down to business,” she said to Red and me. Mama had booked Tiny Tots, Mr. Harmon’s art class, and my make-up rehearsal with Amelia. “The space is big enough,” she’d said.
But we soon learned that only a football field would have been big enough. The Tots were all over the place moments after they arrived. I ran around, trying to help Mama collect them.
“Oh, honey, don’t,” I heard Mrs. Blake say to one of the little girls. She was gently prying a container of paint from the girl’s small hands.
“Taylor, over here,” Mama said, calling the Tot back. And then, “Where is Louis?” Mama whipped out her phone and called Mr. Harmon. She hung up moments later, looking positively panicked. “He said he never got the e-mail with the new sched—”
A crash sounded from across the room. I looked up in time to see an easel on its side and Red running over to calm Mrs. Blake, who was fanning herself with her hand.
“Is Louis coming today, Tina?” Mrs. Blake said loudly and then, “Oh, oh, honey. Don’t! Y
ou’ll get paint on your—”
Too late. While Mrs. Blake was busy asking Mama about Mr. Harmon, Taylor had succeeded at last in opening the jar of paint. Her once crisp white tutu was now streaked with blobs of turquoise. Taylor spun around happily, shouting, “I’m blue, I’m blue!”
“Technically, you’re cerulean,” Mrs. Blake said miserably.
Mama groaned.
“Tag,” another Tiny Tot yelled jubilantly, and darted off in the other direction.
“No! Not tag!” I shouted. “Red, help!”
Red joined in, and by the time Mama was done wiping Taylor down, we’d managed to get the Tiny Tots collected and sitting in a restless, giggly circle. I was panting and sweaty. Red was, too.
“Louis never got the e-mail with the rec center schedule,” Mama said, rubbing her temples. “I’m going to have to run Tots and figure out what to do with the art class. I don’t want them to feel like they wasted their time.”
“Don’t worry,” Red declared. “I’m on it.”
Mama opened her mouth to protest, but Red had already strutted over to the women sitting at their easels and said loudly, “Good morrow, ladies. May I entertain you with some free verse poetry?”
Mama stared at Red, open-mouthed, and then turned to me.
“We should get those rally posters hung up in here,” she said. “And the sign-up sheets for shifts at the info table. Would you mind doing that?”
“Of course, Mama.” She pointed me toward the posters and a roll of tape, and I headed to the front door to hang one there.
Suddenly, the door swung open, almost smacking me in the face.
“Just who I was looking for,” Amelia said. “Ready for that make-up rehearsal?” She tapped me on the nose the way she did sometimes to say hi, or when I forgot something. “What’re those?” she asked, gesturing to the posters.
I explained about the rally.
“Sounds like fun, actually,” Amelia said. “Count me in. Now let’s get dancing—less than four weeks to the show.” She raised her eyebrows, a hopeful look on her face. “If it’s still happening?”
“I think so,” I said. Or at least I hoped. I’d started getting this feeling in my stomach, heavy like my tap shoes, whenever I thought about Rhythm and Views. Mama hadn’t said anything, but it was getting harder and harder to believe Liberty would be fixed in time for the show.
Gabriela (American Girl Page 4