I pop a few more sunflower seeds in my mouth, take a swig of Mountain Dew, and put both back inside my locker.
“YoT-DiddyThereIsYourGirlComingInTheDoor.”
“Where?” I turn around quick, and sure enough, homegirl is in the hallway. I shoot past Fast Freddie and Willie Mack, and about twenty other people, like I’m running down the sidelines toward the end zone. Unfortunately, I see Cru barking in the hallways like she does every morning. The wicked witch has already got it in for me, and I know I better stop running before I get ISS.
This is my chance to talk to her, see if she read the letter I left on her windshield.
I briskly walk past Dr. Jackson, avoiding eye contact, but by the time I get to the school’s entrance, Claudia is gone. I look behind me, in front of me, to the side, outside, but there is no sign of her.
Even though I’m standing in the middle of my school, in the middle of the school that I put on the map. Even though I’m that dude, I feel lost.
The bell rings, and I’m frozen.
“YoTWhere’dSheGo? YouA’ight?”
“Let’s go” is all I can say, as we head to class.
As Fast Freddie, Willie Mack, and I pass the library, I see Dr. Jackson coming out of our class, heading in the opposite direction. She’s smiling, for once. Still, I slow my pace, so I won’t run into her. Ms. Stanley, the librarian, stumbles out of the library with her coat on, crying, barely able to hold the box she’s carrying.
“Let me get that for you, Ms. Stanley.” I take it from her and hand it to Fast Freddie. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“ThenWhyYouCrying?”
“T-Diddy, the school board bootlegged us. They just pink-slipped Ms. Stanley and a whole bunch of teachers,” Luther runs up to us and says.
“They laid us—” Ms. Stanley says, still unable to get out a whole thought without bawling.
“Oh hell no,” I say, like I’m in the huddle and we’re down. “Ms. Stanley, keep your head up. We got you! Fred, Luther, let’s roll.”
“WhatWeDoingKid?”
“It’s going down today, believe that. Pull out your phones.” We’re not supposed to have phones in school, but everybody has them—in pockets, in backpack secret compartments, in bras. I pull mine from my sock. “It’s overtime, people. First they take our band, our music, now they take our favorite teachers. What’s next, they gonna cancel lunch to save money?”
“What’s the plan, Omar?” Luther asks. I have no idea what we’re going to do, but I know that we aren’t going to allow Cru and these clueless school board people to mess with our futures anymore. Where did all these people in the hallway come from?
“Meet me out on the lawn right now! Tweet it, post it, text it, scream it. Put the word out. We are going to turn this mutha out. Y’all feel me.” Judging by the commotion and loud applause in the hallway, they do. Fingers are tapping away on cell phones. Everybody’s spreading the word. Oh, it’s definitely going down.
“LEGGGGOOO!” screams Fast Freddie, and everyone in the hallway heads outside. The word gets around fast, because students are already outside, before us. Oh yeah, it’s on now.
Outside, the weather is perfect for whatever it is we’re about to get into. Sunny and almost seventy degrees; this Charleston weather is as fickle as a Brooklyn bus schedule.
Half the school is outside. I know Cru and her staff must be tripping right about now. And more students are exiting the building. It’s pep-rally crazy out here, and now I have to figure out what the plan is. I jump up on a picnic bench and glimpse a sea of West Charleston faces in front of me. Getting antsy, they holler and scream.
“WHAT WE GONNA DO, T-DIDDY?”
“WE FIRED UP!”
“WHY DID THEY FIRE THE TEACHERS?”
“I THOUGHT WE WON THE SILENT PROTEST!”
I scan the crowd and see Fast Freddie and Willie Mack right in front, Blu talking to Luther, kids in SHHHHH! T-shirts. But I don’t see homegirl. Last time I did this, she was up here with me. C’mon, son, you got this.
The crowd quiets down and everyone looks at me, waiting for their marching orders.
“Those who want freedom, and yet fear agitation” is how I begin, because I remember Clyfe saying it yesterday, although the word he used wasn’t “fear,” it was “deprecate,” but none of these jokers probably know what it means. Heck, I don’t even know. “They are men and women who want crops without plowing the ground, they want rain without thunder and lightning, They want the ocean without the roar of the waters,” I shout. The ocean. Remember the ocean, T?
“Preach!” somebody screams from the crowd.
“It’s about to be a storm up in here,” hollers somebody else.
“That’sMyDawg!” screams Fast Freddie.
“Y’all feel me.” I’m getting amped, right along with the students. Oh yeah, it’s on now.
“We tried to be quiet, but they didn’t hear us. So now we’re gonna get in their faces. We’re gonna get loud,” I say, and that’s when the idea hits me.
Uncle Al once told me about the time when he was a student at Howard University and the students staged a sit-in protest in the administration building. They were protesting the expulsion of like thirty-eight students. I don’t remember what for, but I do remember they occupied the administration building and they won.
“The school board wants to disrupt our education with a bunch of bullshit moves, then let’s disrupt their ish. We’re taking our fight to their front door.”
The roar makes the ground tremble, which makes the picnic table wobble. These kids are fired up fo’ sho.
“How are we gonna get there, Omar?”
“We’re gonna march, like they used to do in the old days,” I answer, feeling like I’m on a mission and can’t nobody break my stride.
“Walk?” screams somebody from the crowd, and then all kinds of moans and groans start.
“That’s like ten miles, dawg.”
“Ain’t nobody trying to march ten miles.”
I admit I hadn’t really thought the whole marching thing through. I don’t even run three in practice.
“I’m driving my truck! Who wants a ride?” yells a kid from the back of the crowd.
“A’ight, that’s what’s up. It’s not about the march anyway. Y’all get there however. Just meet me on the steps of the school board building in like twenty minutes. LEGGGOO!”
Kids start dispersing. I jump down and make my way over to Fast Freddie and Willie Mack.
“Willie, can you drive?”
“You got gas money?”
“WeTryingToPlanARevolutionAndThisWoadieTalkingAboutGas!”
“C’mon, son, I got you. Let’s do this.”
We make our way over to Willie’s Honda and jump in. Actually, we don’t jump in just yet, because we have to push-start that baby. When we get it moving, we all jump in.
“T, this ain’t no innocent school-type ish anymore. We’re about to break the law.”
“IGotYourBackButYouSureWeWantToDisturbThePeace.”
I wasn’t so sure when I said it, but looking in the side-view mirror, I know I’m doing the right thing. There, driving her latchkey car, following us, is homegirl.
I have never been so sure about anything in my life.