“Hi,” she said when she picked up.
“H-H-Hi,” I replied awkwardly. We hadn’t spoken in more than twenty-four hours—a record for us.
“So,” she said.
“So,” I said.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence that felt two decades long.
“I’m … I’m ssssssorry for snapping at you y-y-y-yesterday,” I said, at the same time Teagan blurted out, “I’m sorry for jumping in and correcting you and finishing your sentences all the time.” Teagan went on. “It’s just that you’re my best friend in the whole wide world and sometimes when I see you struggling with your words, I want to help.”
“I get th-th-th-that,” I said. “But I’m not … I’m not struggling, even though it ssssseems like I am. I’m—I’m triumphing over it, like Mama says, or at least tr-tr-trying to. So when you cut me off and r-r-rescue me, you’re not really giving me the ch-chance to do that.”
“Oh.” Teagan looked and sounded more miserable than she had before. “I’ve really been messing up, huh?”
“No,” I said firmly. “You just didn’t kn-know and you were tr-tr-trying to help. Maybe … maybe from now on, you can hhhelp me by just letting me finish what I’m saying, even if it ssseems like I’m str-str-struggling.”
“I can do that,” Teagan said, brightening a little.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
There was another awkward silence, and then Teagan said, “Hey, Isaiah taught Red and me about a new type of poetry yesterday. Have you ever heard of limericks?”
“L-Limer-whats?”
Teagan giggled. “Okay, guess not. They’re short, funny poems that follow the rhyme scheme A-A-B-B-A. Here’s one he made up about Red: There once was a boy named Red. He fell down and bumped his head. He screamed, ‘Oh, the pain! I might go insane! No, I’ll just rub it instead.’”
I laughed. Then we spent the next hour on the phone, coming up with limericks. And when my words got caught, Teagan waited while I figured out how to set them free.
A few days later, Mama finally heard from Ms. Santos. When Red and I asked her what she’d said, Mama would only reply, “Mr. Harmon and I are meeting at Mount Calvary. Let’s go.”
She piled us into the car, and we rushed over to the church. Teagan and Mr. Harmon arrived right after us.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Harmon asked.
“Nothing good,” Mama replied. Then she pulled out her cell phone, dialed a number, and put the phone on speaker. I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice on the other line until Mama said, “Julia, I’m here with Louis, like you asked.”
“Thank you, Tina. Good morning, Louis.”
“I’m hoping ‘good morning’ means you have good news to share?” Mr. Harmon said.
“I’m afraid not,” Ms. Santos replied. Mama started doing her Pilates breaths. “And I’d like to apologize for the lack of communication—I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I heard your rally was quite successful, though. I’ve always been impressed with your group there.”
Get on with it, I thought. That part about our hopes was worrying me.
“Anyway,” Ms. Santos continued, “the city did want to support Liberty and did a more thorough inspection of the building to estimate the labor costs. Unfortunately, it turns out there is a lot more than a faulty electrical system. In fact, and I’m so sorry to have to say this—”
“Will you hold off a minute, Julia?” Mama asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“You three, go upstairs,” Mama told us.
The tone of her voice suggested there was no point in arguing, and I could hardly blame her after how I’d ruined the petitions. But we still had to fix what we messed up, and I wasn’t going to miss what Ms. Santos had to say about Liberty’s future. So I led the way out of the rec room and into the hallway. But I stopped there, just beyond the doorway to the rec room where we could still hear without being seen.
“Okay, Julia. Go ahead,” Mama said, at the same time a voice behind us said, “Good morrow!”
I jumped. Red and Teagan did, too. We turned around to find Isaiah strolling down the hallway toward us, wearing a T-shirt that read I’m handsome and a poet.
“Shhhhhhh,” Teagan hissed.
“—sorry to have to deliver this news,” Ms. Santos was saying, “but the repairs necessary are so extensive, the city is considering just closing down the building altogether.”
The loud outburst from Mr. Harmon and Mama drowned out Teagan’s gasp and Red shouting, “No!” I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“The city rep will get back to me with the final decision, which I will relay to you immediately. However, in the meantime, I think you need to do whatever it takes to demonstrate to the city why the center is so essential to the community.”
Suddenly, words came bursting out of me. “B-Because Mrs. Blake says the arts m-m-make us human!” I yelled, running back into the rec room.
Teagan, Red, and Isaiah were right behind me. Mama and Mr. Harmon did not seem at all surprised to see us.
“Yeah, and because after my grandma died, the only thing that seemed to make my grandpa happy was coming here to teach!” Teagan explained.
“And because I found friends here,” Isaiah put in.
“Exactly,” I yelled. “And b-b-because Liberty is a second home to people like Stan and … and me!”
“Yeah, and because … because …” Teagan paused, then exclaimed, “I got it!”
“Sounds like things are getting exciting there,” I heard Ms. Santos say. “I’ll be in touch—”
“Wait!” Mama said. “Julia—is there any chance all this will be wrapped up in the next couple of weeks?”
The show.
“I don’t think so, Tina. I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch.” Ms. Santos hung up, leaving a stunned silence behind.
“W-Wait. Is Rhythm and V-V-Views going to be c-c-c-canceled?” I asked, my heart sinking.
“Let’s talk about that later, Gabby,” Mama said, resting her hand gently on my shoulder. “Teagan, what were you saying?”
“That we already have a million reasons—well, seventy-eight to be exact—why the community needs Liberty. All we need to do is show them to the city!”
The Because statements! Leave it to Teagan to count them. I imagined taking pictures of all of the statements written in the hearts, sticking them in a big envelope, and mailing it to Ms. Santos. It wasn’t exactly as official as a petition, but it might work. The city would see how important Liberty was to the community, invest in the repairs, and Rhythm and Views would take place, just like it always had. Just like it always should.
Teagan continued. “And what if we film people reading their Because statements on the mural and make the clips into a video to send the city?” That was an even better idea than pictures and a big envelope. Teagan was on a roll.
“I’ll do better than that, my friend,” Red said. “What if we already had video of people reading their Because statements?” He reached for his phone in his pocket.
“You don’t!” Teagan said.
“Oh, but I do. Thought they might make good material for a poem someday, so I videoed a bunch of people reading their statements after they’d painted them.”
There was a long silence before Mr. Harmon said, “You know, we really should just hand the center over to you three—you’ve got everything all figured out.”
By the time we got back home, Daddy was home from work and sitting at the kitchen table. Mama let Red and me explain the plan to him, while she nodded her approval.
“So do you have time to help with the video?” I asked.
“Of course,” Daddy replied, grinning.
As Red began telling Daddy more about the Because videos, the tap dancers started up in my belly again.
“Mama,” I blurted out. “Is the ssssshow going to be can-can-canceled?”
Red and Daddy stopped talking at once. Mama sighed. “Not canceled, Gabby. Not yet, at least.
Just postponed.”
“Until when?” Red asked.
“Until further notice,” Mama replied. “We’ll continue rehearsing, of course, but at this point, we’re just not sure when the show will be. Hopefully, before the end of the summer.” Mama’s voice didn’t have all that much hope in it.
Until Further Notice
Three words that mean
Maybe
Possibly
Or sometimes, never ever
Until we raise enough money
To equal hugely expensive
Until we can make the city
Pay more attention
Until we can show the world
Why Liberty is important
Why it matters, why it’s more than
Just a center, a building, a place
To create
Until further notice
Until we can prove
Until then
No Rhythm
No Views
I woke up the next morning with the word “until” still imprinted on my thoughts like a brand. It was up to us—the Liberty community—to prove that the center was important and we’d do it, starting with the Because video. I went downstairs and found Daddy sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop.
“Mornin’, kiddo. I’m almost done with the video. Want to see?”
Already? We had briefly discussed the video last night, but I thought we were going to work on it together today. My face must have shown my disappointment.
“I know you wanted to help with the editing, kiddo,” Daddy said, “but time is of the essence in these things.”
I knew that. I did. We couldn’t prove how important Liberty was without the video, but I’d still wanted to help. Somehow, the night before, I’d convinced myself that if I did, I’d make up for causing the blackout, destroying the petitions, ruining Rhythm and Views. Everything. I grabbed a bowl for cereal and slammed the cabinet shut a little louder than I’d meant to.
“I really am sorry, Gabby,” Daddy said. He came over to the counter. “How about this. You didn’t film a Because video. Why don’t we do that and then we can edit that in together?”
I appreciated Daddy’s offer, but that would require me to talk on video; I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. But then again, this was for Liberty. For Rhythm and Views, for Mama and Stan and Mrs. Blake. For me.
“Okay,” I said.
That same evening, Teagan joined us for dinner. Knowing how much she loved video editing, I convinced Daddy to let her add the credits at the end. She pulled out a flash drive, did the quickest edit I’ve ever seen, and suddenly we were on our way to Mount Calvary to show Mama and Mr. Harmon.
We were at the church and standing in the rec room in no time. Mama and Mr. Harmon had been spending a lot of time there lately, even when there weren’t any classes, brainstorming and discussing every little thing. We found them doing just that. When we walked in, they looked up, clearly surprised to see us.
“Robert?” Mama said. “We weren’t expecting all of you to come by.”
“I know,” Daddy said, sounding as excited as a kid himself. “But we’ve got something to show you all. Louis, do you mind?” He gestured at Mr. Harmon’s folding table.
“Be my guest,” Mr. Harmon replied, looking both confused and curious at the same time.
Daddy set up his laptop and prepared the video. Then he pulled the table away from the wall and closer to where Mama sat with Mr. Harmon. “Prepare to be blown away,” he said, and hit PLAY.
There, on the screen, were all of the reasons everyone loved Liberty, one reason flowing right into the next.
“Because Liberty shows us that dance has history.” Amelia.
“Because at Liberty my tutu was blue!” Taylor.
“
Because all languages are welcome here!
” Teagan.“It’s written in HTML,” she explained.
Leave it to Teagan to write her sign in code.
“Because dancing brings me joy!” A senior dancer.
“Because Liberty helps me forget how much I miss my mom.” Red.
Teagan and I looked at Red. He looked away. “It’s true,” he muttered.
My face crumpled. So did Teagan’s.
“Look, don’t go feeling all bad for me and saying ‘awwwww’ or anything,” Red said, and made a big show of shifting his attention back to the video.
“Because art class is my favorite hour of the week.” Mrs. Blake.
And then mine. “Because Liberty is where I met my best friend.”
Teagan blushed. I smiled at her from the other side of the table.
Silence followed the credits. Then a sniffle. And another. Mama was crying! Even Mr. Harmon was dabbing at his eyes.
“We need to post this right away,” Mama said, wiping her eyes.
“On it,” Teagan replied. “Mr. McBride, do you mind if I use your laptop for a minute?”
Daddy said he didn’t mind one bit. Quick as a flash, Teagan connected to the church Wi-Fi and posted the video to the Liberty Facebook page, making sure to tag Ms. Santos and the city council.
“Repost the link to the Dream Together page, too,” I added.
Maybe, just maybe, if we kept our fingers crossed, the city would finally see how much the community needed Liberty.
And maybe, just maybe, the show would go on.
Hello? Julia?”
We were getting ready to leave for Mount Calvary just a few days later when Mama’s phone rang. Red and I were on our way outside to wait for Mama in the driveway. We stopped in our tracks by the front door.
There wasn’t much to hear—Mama was doing a whole lot of “uh-huh-ing” and “I see-ing.” But suddenly she burst out with, “That’s excellent news!”
Mama hung up with Ms. Santos and was on the phone with Mr. Harmon a moment later.
“Just heard from her, Louis. The council was very impressed with our video and other efforts on behalf of Liberty so far. They are setting their budget for next year on the thirty-first. The final materials estimate is twenty thousand—”
Red and I looked at each other. Twenty thousand dollars?!
“If we can raise twenty thousand with Dream Together by then,” Mama went on, “The city can commit to covering all remaining costs. Can you believe it?”
I couldn’t. We were closer than ever to getting Liberty back! Red and I bounded down the front steps. I leapt skyward, executing a full-split leap in the air.
“Should I try that one?” Red asked.
“Um, I’m thinking no,” I replied, laughing.
“Wooo-hoooo!!” Mama said as she came outside to join us in the driveway. “Did you two hear that?”
“YES!” Red and I said at the same time.
“But how are we going to raise twenty thousand dollars?” I said, climbing into the car.
“And by ‘we’ Gabby means everyone, including me and her,” Red said. “We really do want to help, Aunt Tina. We’re part of the Liberty community, too.” I gave Red a little nod. Well said.
Mama didn’t answer right away. I got the sense that she was choosing her words very carefully. “You two and Teagan were a huge help at the rally and with the video. You just keep making those bracelets. Every little bit helps.”
“But what else can we do?” I asked. I still didn’t feel like I had made up for causing the outage in the first place, and I was getting tired of making bracelets. I wanted to help. Really help.
“I’ll think about that,” Mama said, “but right now, you need to just be patient and leave the rest to the grown-ups. Everything will work itself out in the end.” Mama pulled out of the driveway and started up the street.
“B-B-B-B-But how do you kn-kn-know that?” I asked, as we came to a stop in front of the small park two blocks from our house.
“It just will,” Mama said firmly. “No one is going to let Liberty disappear.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as the sounds of drumbeats hit my ears—a guy playing
the bongos at the edge of the park. My heart pounded like his hands hitting the drums. How were we ever going to make up for causing that outage? I looked at Red. He shrugged as if to say, “What else can we do?” Once we got to Mount Calvary, Red and I let Mama go inside.
“Are we just going to keep making friendship bracelets?” I said.
“Nope, we are not,” Red replied. “If we want to really make a difference in this campaign, it’s time to strategize. And I know four people who will be happy to help.”
“What about one of those local commercials?” Bria said, after we’d explained needing to raise twenty thousand dollars in the next two weeks and everyone had picked their jaws up off the floor. We had called an emergency poetry session. “My neighbor did a commercial for his furniture store. It was a bit corny, but it got my mom to stop in to check out the sales.”
“Where would we get the stuff to film it, though, and how would we get it on TV?” Alejandro said. “Bet we’d have to pay to get it on the air, and we’re supposed to be making money, not spending it.”
“True,” Bria said.
Isaiah suggested an e-mail to “ask” for donations. Teagan pointed out that most people just deleted those.
“Wh-Wh-What about a wwwalk-a-thon?” I took a deep breath. My stutter was acting up more than usual. Mama’s Tiny Tot tappers were getting on my nerves, too, with all their tick-tock-BOOM steps, as Mama called them.
Red said you had to get permits for stuff like walk-a-thons, which took a long time. We had only thirteen and a half days. It went on like that for what felt like an eternity, one person throwing out an idea and another shooting it down. This wasn’t getting us anywhere.
“Okay,” Red said sitting down in his chair, defeated. “I think we’ve done enough brainstorming for today. Let’s move on to some poems.”
Without thinking, I stood up. Anger and frustration—at the rec room, at the group for not coming up with ideas, at Mama for not letting us help out more—bubbled up inside me. I just wanted Liberty back. I wanted things to go back to how they were before.