by Mark Oshiro
“Again?” Ekemeni shook her head. “They sure travel a lot.”
“Don’t judge!” Ogonna said, using a fork to stab at a pork chop and put it on her plate. “Aren’t they like … super elite science people or somethin’?”
“I don’t think any of us actually know her parents or what they do,” said Njemile. “What was Esperanza reminding you of?”
He hesitated for a moment before the lie came out. “Just something I’d told her last weekend,” he said. A quiet shame passed through him. He had no reason to fear that sort of conversation in this group. There wasn’t a context he could imagine where Njemile’s moms would be uncomfortable with Moss talking about a guy who flirted with him; Wanda had long ago been accepting of him being gay. But it felt like the wrong time, and he couldn’t explain it to himself in any other way.
I’ll tell Mama soon, he told himself.
Moss spent the rest of the meal trying to move past his discomfort. As he helped his mother clear the table, long after Njemile and her parents left, he pulled his phone out again, the unread text still on his lock screen. He dropped a plate in the sink, unlocked his phone, then went to his contacts. Moss scrolled down to Javier’s name and stared at it for a few seconds, then hit the message button and began to type.
Hey man, it’s Moss. How r u?
He stared at that for an even longer time. His mother came up behind him. “What you doin’, baby?”
He hit send and stuffed the phone in his pocket. “Just replyin’ to Esperanza,” he said, and then he focused on washing the dishes while his mother dried them. He felt that familiar buzz again, but he couldn’t stop to look lest he attract his mother’s attention. Moss waited until she wandered into the living room, a glass of iced tea in her hand, to pull out his phone.
It was from Javier: Finally. Didn’t want 2 b the 1st lol.
The relief rushed through Moss, and he felt silly that he had worried so much. They began to fire off text after text as Moss headed for his room. He let the elation swallow up his anxiety for the rest of the night.
5
Mrs. Torrance wore lavender from head to toe the next morning, and Njemile snapped at her as she walked into their third period AP English class alongside Moss. “Seriously, I want to be as confident as Teacher there when I grow up,” she said. “Just look at her!”
“Good morning again,” Mrs. Torrance said. “I appreciate the compliment a second time, Njemile.”
“Light-years ahead of the times, Mrs. Torrance,” Njemile said as she took her seat. “One day, we’ll all be imitating you.”
Mrs. Torrance just smiled. “And good morning to you, too, Mr. Jeffries. You were quiet in homeroom today.”
“Got a lot on my mind,” he said as he climbed into a seat behind Njemile and next to Kaisha, who barely looked up from her phone. Kaisha smiled briefly at Moss, flashing a mouth full of braces, before tucking the device away. More students poured into the classroom, a couple darting in just as the bell rang for the start of third period.
“Welcome back,” Mrs. Torrance said. “Glad to see that you have all returned to a second day of my classes. I must’ve done something right.” She picked up the attendance sheet off her desk. “Before we get started, I am to remind you—apparently multiple times a day—that this year’s college fair is much earlier than usual. Please visit the booths in the library this Friday to pick up applications for study! I know you don’t have to start applying until next year, but it helps to familiarize yourself with these forms now.”
“I ain’t goin’ to college, Mrs. T.,” said a kid in the back row. “I can barely get to your class most days.”
Laughter rolled through the room until Mrs. Torrance dropped a worn box on her desk. She coughed as a bit of dust wafted up from it. “This is our first book for the year,” she announced, “and while I am certain many of you will enjoy it, we have a problem.”
She came around to the front of her desk, crossing her arms. “There are thirty-four bright young minds in this classroom. I have twenty-one books.”
She pulled a worn paperback book from the box and held it up for the class to see. There was a hole on the cover, and the back seemed to be hanging by a thread. “Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart,” she announced. “I hope you can appreciate the irony in that.”
After a few chuckles, she put the book on the desk of someone sitting in the front row that Moss didn’t know. “I am going to ask if there’s anyone who can share a book with someone who lives near them. Unfortunately, after most of our library inventory was sold off this summer, there aren’t any copies to check out there either.”
Kaisha’s hand shot up, and Mrs. Torrance said, “Yes, Miss Gordon?”
“I have another idea, if you don’t mind.”
Mrs. Torrance sighed. “At this point, I’m willing to do anything. What were you thinking of?”
“Well,” Kaisha said, pulling out her phone, “I think there’s a way that we can get a copy of the book to anyone who has a smartphone or a computer at home.”
“No phones in my classroom, remember?”
“I know, I know. I promise it’s necessary, though.” Moss watched her tap away at her phone for a few seconds, then wait, then hold up her phone to their teacher. “Digital copies,” she said. “It’s not exactly … legal. If you’re okay with that.”
Mrs. Torrance walked over, the beads at the end of her braids clinking together, and examined what was on Kaisha’s screen. “And this is a full copy of the text?” she asked.
“It is,” Kaisha said, taking her phone back. She tapped a few more times, and Moss saw something flash open on it. “See?” She held it out to Mrs. Torrance again. “Just swipe to the left.”
Mrs. Torrance did so, her head bobbing. “Well … okay, students. Hands up if you could read a book on a phone, tablet, or computer.”
Most of the kids raised their hands. Is this really happening? Moss thought.
“If you don’t have a device to read this file, feel free to come up and grab a physical copy of Things Fall Apart,” she said, then sighed again. “I can’t believe I have to resort to this.”
The majority of Moss’s peers stayed seated, so Moss stood up and walked toward Mrs. Torrance. “I prefer a hard copy,” he said when she gave him a concerned look. He examined the book while walking back to his chair and wasn’t surprised to see the abysmal condition it was in. While his cover was more or less attached to the binding, the yellowed pages made the book seem like it was a few decades old. He brought it up to his nose and grimaced at the smell. Ancient, old, weathered.
Njemile laughed at him. “You could join us in the modern world,” she said.
“My phone is fine as it is,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Kaisha said.
“Now, Miss Gordon,” Mrs. Torrance said, the students’ chatter dropping away once she spoke, “how do you propose to deliver this book to your fellow students?”
“Emails,” she replied. “Everyone just gimme your email, and I’ll send it as an attachment. Should just open up on whatever native app you use for reading books.”
“My lord,” Mrs. Torrance said. “I’m advocating the pirating of books. What has this world come to?”
“We got two whole basketballs on the girls’ team,” said Shawna Meyers, who sat in the back of the class. Everyone turned to look at her, and she pulled her beanie farther down on her head. “I expected that I’d have to deal with some hell for switching to the other team, but not like this.” She sighed loudly. “I wish that joke were funnier.”
“Welcome to the team,” Njemile said. “We use humor to cope with this terrible, terrible world.”
After a few snickers died down, Mrs. Torrance looked to Shawna. “That bad, eh?”
Shawna nodded at her. “And we lost a coupla players already. Two seniors who dropped out yesterday.”
“Dropped out of school entirely?” she said, shocked.
“Uh-huh,” Shawna said. “Got
other things to take care of, I guess.”
Moss felt the need to say something as irritation began to swarm his brain. “Why is it like this, Mrs. Torrance? You gotta know something, right?”
A few others added their voices in agreement, and a sadness settled on her face. “I suppose we’ve all known this was coming,” she said. “All us teachers, I mean. I’m not the only one dealing with textbooks falling apart or supplies disappearing. You know Mr. Roberts? Science department?”
“Yeah, I got him for biology,” Moss said.
“I saw him this morning in the teachers’ lounge. Told me he spent nearly two thousand dollars buying what he needs for his chemistry class this year.”
“By himself?” Moss said. “How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” Mrs. Torrance said. “But there’s just no money. We didn’t get as much from the state for the school year because test scores went down.” After many students groaned in response, she shook her head. “I know. Trust me, we teachers hate them, too. But it’s how the system is set up. With less funding, we’ve had to turn to alternative ways to get through the year.”
“What if we found some way to fund-raise for the school?” Shawna said. “I don’t know, something to help out so that we can have new books or more supplies. We always gotta fund-raise on the basketball team for trips and stuff.”
“But why do we have to do that?” Moss said. “That’s not our job.”
“Yeah,” said Shawna, defeat creeping into her voice. “I know.”
“I admire your willingness to think outside the box,” Mrs. Torrance said, glancing around at the students in her class. “And I know you want to help. Are any of you in the Associated Student Body this year? Maybe bring it up at the first meeting next week.”
Moss felt a pulse of pain in the space behind his eyes and knew a headache was forming. Already? It’s not even noon. He looked around the class; not a single hand was up, nor had anyone risen to Mrs. Torrance’s suggestion. Why did they have to think about this sort of thing in school? I bet the kids up in Berkeley don’t have to worry about this shit. The pulse turned into a pound and Moss closed his eyes, then pressed into them with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. He blinked as the light poured into his vision again.
Things Fall Apart, he thought. Of course they do.
It was an uneventful class otherwise, once Mrs. Torrance reined the students in, and they began their introductory lesson to Achebe. By the time the bell rang, the class had returned to the normal state of boredom and disinterest. Moss appreciated his teacher’s style, yet her enthusiasm and humor still couldn’t reach a group of kids who didn’t want to face the coming school year. At least she tries, he thought.
He caught up to Njemile as she waved goodbye to Shawna. “You going to the college fair?” Moss asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “I dunno. Is it gonna be like last year?”
He winced at that. The only major university that had shown up had left halfway through the fair without explanation. “Probably,” he said.
Kaisha sidled up to them. “I can just show you the applications if you want,” she said. “I downloaded them all yesterday just to see what they look like.”
“Always so helpful, girl,” said Njemile. “How was your summer, by the way?”
She shrugged. “Nothing too exciting, I guess.” She stopped as they stepped out of the hallway and into the quad, the massive room in the middle of campus where the lockers were located. “That don’t look too good,” she said.
Moss followed her gaze. On the opposite side of the quad sat the senior lockers, pressed up against the wall, the yellowed sun from the skylights casting them in a pallid tone. The ceiling was at least twice as high here, and most conversation echoed within the space. At the moment, however, only one thing could be heard: Slam. Slam. Slam.
There was a small crowd standing off to the side from one of the lockers, and then Moss heard another noise. The sobbing, soft and bubbly, coming from the short girl who stood next to an open locker. Officer Hull reached into it, pulled out another textbook, and ripped open both the covers, shaking the book in the air. Satisfied that there was nothing hidden in the pages, he dropped it on the floor. It was met by another muffled sob.
“Why are you doing that?” the girl said. “Please, I have to get to my next class.”
Moss and his group came to a stop just near the hallway next to the senior lockers, and Hull caught them staring at him. “No gawking,” he said. “Move along, or your locker will be next.”
They didn’t hesitate. Moss turned away and the three of them darted down the hall toward the back of campus. Njemile didn’t say anything when she peeled off into one of the rooms. Was she afraid of Hull hearing them talk about him? Kaisha sighed. “Why does that man have a job?”
“Who knows?” Moss said. “He clearly hates it here.”
“Well, at least in between him pretending to be our best friend,” she added. “He’s so creepy.”
The bell rang with the sixty-second warning for the next class, and Kaisha waved as she ducked into precalculus. Moss pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Javier.
Glad we got to talk last night. You wanna chill on Friday?
He didn’t know what made him feel brave enough to make the next move. Maybe I’m inspired by his boldness, he thought.
He saw that Javier was typing back.
Dude. Would love nothin more. My place?
He sighed. Damn, I’ll have to ask Mama. But as he entered his next class, he rode the wave of courage he had before it dissipated.
Gotta ask mom. Will hit u up again tonight.
He thought about adding an emoji and worried he was obsessing too much over tiny details. The bell rang, and he shoved his phone into his pocket. He would have to worry about it later.
6
Shamika’s gold hoop earrings jingled as she moved her head from side to side. She let out a laugh and put a plate of biscuits on the table. “Oh, Wanda,” she said between breaths. “Your son definitely got something to say.”
“I knew it,” Moss’s mama said, and she brought over a plate stacked high with chicken. “He always gets all quiet when he’s trying to avoid something.”
Moss sighed with exasperation. “Am I always that obvious?”
Wanda sat down to his right and then caressed his arm. “Not always,” she said.
“But usually,” Shamika blurted out, and then she and Wanda had a good laugh at that. Moss smiled at her and grabbed a couple of wings from the plate, then dropped them quickly because they were still hot. He hadn’t seen as much of Shamika in the last few months; she’d given herself a much-needed vacation after tax season. Her afro was huge now, and he admired how well-kept it was. I need a cut soon, Moss realized. His hair had started getting long on top, and he needed a touch-up to his fade. He made a mental note to hit up Martin for this weekend.
“So spit it out, Moss,” his mother said, breaking off part of a biscuit that Shamika had made. “What’s going on?”
He stuck a broccoli spear in his mouth and chewed on it, his eyes locked with his mama’s. Just say it. Stop delaying.
“So…” he said, drawing it out, his heart pumping in a familiar flopping rhythm. “I wanna ask if I can go over to a friend’s house Friday night.” He breathed out. “A new friend, I should say.”
“Okay,” his mom said, continuing to eat. “Do they live far? How long you planning to be out?”
He ignored those questions and went for the bigger issue. “It’s a boy, Mama.”
It took a second for this to register; her face was confused at first, and then the realization of what Moss meant grew, lighting up her eyes, her mouth slowly dropping open. “Oh,” she said. Then: “Oh.”
Shamika, however, was not at all fazed. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, a mischievous smirk on her face. “I want to know everything,” she said. “What’s his name? Where’d you meet him?” She paused, went quiet
. “He got money?”
“Shamika!” Wanda reached across the table and playfully swatted at her.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Moss could tell she was having fun with it, though. She zeroed in on him again. “But seriously, I need to know everything.”
“Actually, I do need to know more,” Wanda agreed. “Who is this? You’re not on those dating apps, are you?”
His face curled up in disbelief. “No, Mama, I’m not. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She nodded her approval at him. “You wait ’til you’re eighteen for those,” she reminded him.
“I’d stay away from them entirely if I were you,” said Shamika. When Wanda made to say something, Shamika raised a hand to stop her. “They’re creepy! I got some dude on one of them telling me that he wished I would do more than his taxes.” She shuddered. “Men are trash.” She fixed Moss with her gaze. “But tell us about this guy anyway.”
He shook his head. She is so extra, he thought, but it was why he loved the days when she took up cooking duty in their house. Moss adored Njemile’s parents, but Shamika was somewhat younger than his mother, and he found he could relate to her more. He set down the wing he’d been working on and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“I met him on Sunday,” he began. “On BART. His name is Javier. He said something nice about my bike, and we started talking.”
His mother narrowed her eyes. “How old is he, baby?”
He paused, and he instantly knew that the pause was a mistake.
“Moss, how old is he?”
“I didn’t ask,” he said. “But he goes to Eastside so he can’t be more than a year older than me.”
“Just checking,” she said. “Go ’head.”
“Anyway, he seems pretty cool. We swapped numbers and have been texting—”
“So that’s who you been on that phone with,” said Wanda, and she smirked at Shamika.
“I swear, Mama, you and me are too close,” he said, shaking his head at her.