by Alana Terry
Kennedy huffed as she set the shower caddy down on her desk.
Another beep.
Check the news.
Great. This was not the way Kennedy planned on starting her Friday. She typed Channel 2’s web address into her browser and was met with a zoomed-in photo of Boston’s chief of police who had recently addressed the public. Kennedy scanned the article. It was exactly what Dominic had warned her it would be. The cop she’d met last night — apparently his name was Lorence Burgess and not Bow Legs after all — had a stellar record. He helped crack a murder investigation a few years ago in North End, two men with Mafia connections who dumped a body into a pier before going after a couple of unlucky witnesses. He traveled around to elementary schools warning kids about the dangers of gangs. Kennedy rolled her eyes. He probably baked chocolate chip cookies for his shut-in mama every weekend, too.
After extolling his officer’s flawless record, the chief explained that last night at 6:34 pm, Burgess had pulled over two suspects in a drug-related case, which apparently sounded more convincing than the speeding story Dominic had predicted.
Halfway down the screen was a grainy picture of Kennedy hanging onto Officer Burgess’ back. Reuben wasn’t in the shot at all. They had cropped that part out, probably because it wouldn’t look so good to show Burgess kicking an unarmed black man. At that point, the article quoted the chief regretfully informing the people of Boston that when Burgess was attacked by his two “alleged suspects,” there were not enough backup officers on duty. The next several paragraphs dealt with budget cuts on the police force. The article ended, almost like an afterthought, with the notice of a peaceful protest organized by the Reverend Gordon Clarence, who aimed to let the mayor and police department know that the people of Boston wouldn’t stand for the slaughter of innocent African-Americans.
Kennedy had lost her appetite by the time she finished reading. She texted Willow back, saying she had to go to her lit class and wouldn’t make the gathering. She looked at the clock. Still enough time to shower and dress and maybe catch up on a little reading before she met Reuben at the student union.
She glanced once more at the news article, hoping her brain had made up the entire story, but there was the picture of her straddling Burgess’ back. Her only solace was that she hadn’t been named. She and Reuben were still safe. They still had their privacy.
For now.
CHAPTER 11
SHE ARRIVED AT THE student union a few minutes early and made her way to a table in the back where she and Reuben could enjoy some seclusion. She avoided making eye contact with anyone. Why were they all staring at her? How many of them had seen the video clip? Did they recognize her? She opened her used copy of My Side of the Mountain and wondered what it would feel like to run away into the wilderness like Sam Gribley so she could live on her own. Completely alone.
Things had been going so well lately. The panic attacks were finally under control. She had made it through the first half of the semester without any major drama. She was one of the few first-years on campus lucky enough to get along with her roommate. She and Willow had almost nothing in common besides mutual respect, but apparently that was enough for the mismatched pair.
Classes were going well. Even her parents had stopped hovering over her from ten thousand miles away in Yanji. Her mom didn’t cry anymore when they talked on the phone, lamenting that her little girl was so far from home. For a short time, life had been good. Really good. And of course, there was Reuben. Always so kind and encouraging. Such an important part of her first year at Harvard. As excited as she was to go back home to Yanji at the end of the semester, she hated the idea of going all summer without seeing him. She had always imagined romance like what happened to Marius and Cosette in Les Miserables, when two people look at each other across the way, their hearts fluttering, and in that moment they both know they were meant for each other. Her relationship with Reuben, by contrast, had grown slowly. Organically. Whatever they had, be it a friendship or something deeper, it had sneaked up on them quietly while neither one was looking. Was it God who’d brought them together? If it was, then why couldn’t he have kept them away from Officer Burgess last night? Why couldn’t he let them go to Aida together, let the music surround them, let the love story enfold them? Who knew what would have happened next?
“To know what would have happened, child?” Kennedy could almost hear Aslan’s voice in her head. “No. Nobody is ever told that.”
She shut her book. No use studying My Side of the Mountain when her brain was still stuck in the Narnia world. It was just as well. Reuben was coming toward her wearing a tired smile. His step was slower, too.
“Good morning.” She eyed his tray of food.
He slipped into the seat across from her. “Hey. Aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not that hungry.” Kennedy forced a cheerful tone. “How’s your head today?”
He scooped his scrambled eggs up with his fork. She was glad to see him devour his first bite with his usual zeal. “Nothing to worry about.” It didn’t really answer her question.
She nodded toward her book. “Have you caught up on your reading?”
“I was a little busy last night,” he muttered.
Kennedy would have liked to get herself some food, anything to relieve this awkward tension, but she was too nervous to eat. Maybe she should have asked Willow for more information about that protest. What would Dominic think? It wasn’t as though she and Reuben had anything to do with it, but would the police suspect they were involved? Would the chief retaliate like Dominic predicted?
There were so many things she wanted to talk to Reuben about. Not just the protest. Not just the visit from Dominic at her dorm where he all but threatened her into silence. There was so much more they needed to discuss. Like Reuben’s aloof behavior. Was he angry about what they went through, or was there more to it? What did Dominic mean when he said that Reuben had a secret reason to keep their story from the press? How was Kennedy supposed to react to all this confusion?
“I got a visit from the police last night,” Reuben said through a mouthful of sourdough toast.
She lifted her gaze. Tried to read his face. “What did they say?”
“I was so tired, I hardly remember any of it.”
Slowly, the tension she had felt between them lifted, like a cloud of condensation slowly dispersing. She eyed the French toast and strawberry sauce on his plate. Maybe she could find her appetite after all. She also found the courage to ask, “Do you think we should tell someone what happened? File a complaint or something?”
Reuben took a sip of his Coke. She was glad that he at least appeared to consider her question. He swirled his straw around in his cup, staring at the ice shavings and the carbonated bubbles floating to the surface. “We have a saying back home. When two elephants fight, it’s the grass that suffers.”
Kennedy appreciated the proverb but wasn’t sure why he would bring it up now. “So are you and I the elephants or the grass?”
Neither of them laughed.
“I love my home.” Reuben wiped his mouth with a napkin before attacking his biscuits and gravy. “But we’ve got some messed up politics. Tribal tensions that go back to colonial times and even earlier. I’m not saying everyone’s corrupted by it. We’ve got our Martin Luther Kings and our Gandhis. But it’s not like in America. Here, you go to a protest or a march, and you assume that makes you some hero. You wave the banner, and then you go home without worrying about your house getting burned down or your family getting death threats. But that’s not how I grew up. That policeman we met last night would fit right into Nairobi, especially during election times. I look at people here in America, and I just see a bunch of the world’s most privileged kids wasting time and chanting in their picket lines.” He finished off his cup of Coke before starting on his second one. “Maybe it’s harder for you, being an American. Maybe it’s harder for you to admit the corruption. But for me, that’s just a fact of
life.”
Kennedy didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the conversation she expected to have. Was this what Reuben had told Dominic last night? Was that why Dominic had pressured her so strongly to keep her complaints to herself, for Reuben’s sake if nothing else? It still didn’t explain what the elephants had to do with anything. Was Reuben saying that regular folks like the two of them were the grass, helpless to stand up against raging elephants? That instead of wasting their energy trying to stop a fight, they should just get themselves out of the way in the name of personal safety or comfort?
“So you want to pretend like last night never happened?” Kennedy stared as Reuben bit into a greasy sausage patty, and her appetite waned just as quickly as it had perked up a few minutes earlier.
“Yes, last night happened. It was wrong.” Reuben let out a little chuckle and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “In fact, there was one point that I thought I might actually wet my pants.”
It really wasn’t all that funny, but Kennedy found herself smiling. This was the Reuben she knew. This was the Reuben she had grown so close to this year.
He smothered his hash browns in ketchup. “Last night’s probably going to be something we remember for the rest of our lives. But things happen, and then you move on.”
Kennedy eyed his bowl of Froot Loops and tried to surreptitiously gauge his reaction. “Did you know they’re staging a protest today? My roommate’s on her way over now.”
Reuben smiled. His eyes were soft. “Yeah, that sounds like something she’d do.”
Another shared laugh.
“So what now?” Kennedy’s insides quivered as she asked the question. “We just hope no one identifies us from that tape?”
Reuben slurped the rest of his second cup of Coke. “I guess so.”
“And what if they do?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Let’s just pray they don’t.”
CHAPTER 12
KENNEDY’S PHONE RANG as soon as Reuben got up to get himself more food.
“Hello?”
Without any sort of greeting, her dad demanded, “Please tell me you don’t have anything to do with that protest they’re planning this afternoon in front of the court house.”
Hi, Dad. It’s good to talk to you, too. “No, I’ve got class soon, and I’m headed over to the Lindgrens’ for dinner tonight.”
She could perfectly envision her father’s frown all the way from Yanji.
“Well, I don’t want you anywhere near it. These things always start out as peaceful demonstrations, but you never know what can happen after that. It’s like piling up all your old gas cans right outside a match factory and then acting surprised when you get an explosion.”
“I wasn’t planning to go. I already said I’m too busy.” She had been longing for her dad’s advice last night, but now his paranoid protection annoyed her more than anything else.
“So, did you think any more about what you’re going to do? Are you going to file a complaint?”
Had she made up her mind on anything? Or had everyone else just made the decision for her? At least if she let it go, she’d be returning to some semblance of normalcy. A little while longer, and all this would be a distant and distasteful memory.
“I think I’ll just forget about it and move on.”
“That’s good.” Her dad had this irritating habit of smacking his lips when he agreed with something she said, a quirk she’d almost expect from a toothless old grandfather. “I just got off the phone with my college buddy Jefferson. He’s a lawyer now. Got a practice in Worchester. He’d already heard about your encounter when I called.”
Kennedy tried not to sigh so loud her dad would hear it on the other line.
“I told Jefferson what you said happened. He believes your story, but honestly, sugar, he said you’re lucky the department hasn’t charged you both with assaulting an officer. They could have identified you pretty easily by now if they’d wanted to bring you in. The fact that you’re still on campus making plans to go to class and visit Carl and Sandy’s tonight is proof enough that the department knows their guy messed up. But unless you get evidence, a recording of the confrontation or another witness who watched the whole thing, there’s no way your word alone would hold up. It sounds like your best bet is to lay low, let this whole thing blow over, and avoid jumping on any officers’ backs in the future.”
She knew her father was trying to lighten the situation. Knew that he had probably spent hours out of his day talking with his lawyer friend and researching Massachusetts law. But none of this was funny. None of this would ever be funny. Part of her was so ready to forget last night ever happened, ready to go back to being a regular first-year pre-med student. Ready to talk with Reuben about literature and science and foreign countries, not abusive cops.
But another side of her hated the helplessness she’d experienced when she got pulled over on Arlington. The helplessness she still felt as she listened to every single person she talked to, all the way from an apparently sympathetic policeman to her own father, telling her it was useless to seek retribution. No, not even useless. It was dangerous. If she made a complaint, they’d turn around and lock her up for assaulting a cop. No questions asked. No real justice.
Her dad sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar. I know it’s not the answer you wanted to hear. And I told Jefferson, and I told your mother too because she’s worrying herself straight off her diet over the whole situation — I told them that if you wanted to seek legal redress, I’d support you. Jefferson’s a good lawyer, and he agreed to give us a fair rate. So if you really know what you’re getting into and still feel like the right thing to do is bring this officer to justice, we’re willing to help you try. We just don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, because without any other evidence, well ...” He let his voice trail off. Kennedy was thankful. She’d heard enough threats in the past twelve hours.
“You don’t need to let us know what you’re going to do right now,” her dad went on. “It’s probably something you want to think through, and honestly, it might be best to wait until some of the media frenzy dies down. And who knows? Maybe there were other witnesses who will come forward. We can always pray that someone who saw the whole thing will have the guts to stand up and tell people what really happened.”
Kennedy watched Reuben walking back toward their table with his second breakfast tray as her dad added, “By the way, how is your friend doing? How’s Reuben?”
“He’s better now. Couple stitches in his head, and he’s walking like he’s pretty sore, but the doctors didn’t seem too concerned.”
“Well, I’m sorry this happened to him. I’m sure he’s a great guy, and I know he didn’t do anything to deserve to be treated like this.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” Kennedy felt her throat constricting and wished she had a cup of tea.
“You tell Reuben to get better. Tell him your mom and I are praying for him, and you take care of yourself too, baby girl, ok? I don’t want to be seeing your face on Channel 2’s webpage for at least another month.”
They shared an awkward sort of laugh. Kennedy knew her dad’s heart must be just as heavy as hers. After the usual rounds of I love you and I miss you, they hung up just as Reuben sat back down with his extra tray of food. “You talking to your dad?”
“Yeah, how did you know?
“You just get a certain look on your face. That’s all.”
Kennedy helped herself to a piece of pineapple from Reuben’s fruit salad and glanced at the time. Twenty minutes before they had to be at their lit class. She’d only been awake for a little over an hour and already had the feeling this would be one of those days that would never end.
“What did your dad say?” Reuben asked. “About last night, I mean. Did you tell him?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t need to. He’s more of a Channel 2 news junkie than anyone on the whole East Coast.”
“What did he think about it?” Reuben was studying a pi
ece of cantaloupe as if it might contain all the calculus formulas he’d need for next week’s quiz.
Kennedy found herself lowering her voice. Why did it feel as if she were part of some big conspiracy? “He talked to a lawyer friend of his. Says unless someone else comes forward with more concrete evidence, there’s really nothing we can do.”
“So he wants you to drop the case?” There was a hint of hopefulness in Reuben’s voice that Kennedy knew he was trying to hide.
She nodded, and watched a small flicker of relief light up in his eyes. She tested her words carefully, like she might do with a piece of litmus paper she didn’t want to get too wet. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
Reuben’s body tensed, his fork froze halfway to his mouth.
Kennedy hoped she wouldn’t regret her question. Oh, well. Too late to backtrack now. “Is there any particular reason ...” She struggled to find the right words. “About last night. Is there something you’ve been keeping from me?”
Reuben set his fork by his plate. “Like what?”
Kennedy forced a smile she was sure looked totally unconvincing. “I don’t know. Any reason you’re scared of the cops finding out who we are?”
He grabbed two grapes and plopped them into his mouth with a shrug. “I’ve just learned that when the elephants start fighting, it’s best to stay as far away as possible.”
CHAPTER 13
AFTER A SEMESTER AND half living in Cambridge, Kennedy thought she should be used to Sandy’s hugs by now, but it still caught her off guard when her pastor’s wife flung her arms around her as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Once she finally let go, Sandy tossed her long French braid over her shoulder, grabbed Kennedy’s hands, and pulled her into their home. “I’m so glad you made it tonight, sweetie. I’ve been worrying my head off about you since last night.” She lowered her voice. “That kind of stuff used to happen to Carl and me pretty regular,” she whispered, “back when we were courting in the South. It’s a shame to think that people haven’t gotten over their differences by now. Heaven knows we’ve had enough time to change.”