I felt it in my fingertips while we walked to school that morning. This November promised to be chillier than past Novembers. Leaves had already turned yellow and had fallen everywhere. Soon our classes would all file into the auditorium while we waited for our teachers to come and collect us. For now, we ran around on the playground until the lineup bell rang and our teachers stood at the head of our lines.
I couldn’t help but notice a change in more than the seasons. The clusters of girlfriend groups where I would have fallen in with Frieda, Lucy, and whoever they stood with were dotted with the Jameses. Two Michaels. Enrique. Upton. Anthony, but not Ant. I couldn’t believe it. The boys weren’t tagging girls on the back and running off, but talking with them. It felt like it was happening behind my back. Suddenly the boys were acting human and were able to be around girls without clowning or starting trouble. Not with me. Or Rukia. But they were all talking to each other. Or maybe because I noticed two or three boys talking to two or three girls, it seemed like the whole world had changed in an instant and I was on the outside watching it change. Not that I had anything to say to the boys in my class. And I had no intention of standing near Danny the K or Ellis. They kept their distance from me, which was fine by me. The way Danny the K glared at me, I could only guess his mama had given him the whipping of his lifetime the other day.
Lucy turned and saw me. She grabbed Frieda’s hand, came running over, and did a less goosey version of her Lucy-goosey dance. Frieda rolled her eyes. Then Lucy waved a card in her hand to the beat of her dance and shoved it in my face. She sang, “I got it, I got it, I got it, OW!” She was a female James Brown screaming and sliding back and forth.
There, before my eyes, was a real Madison Square Garden ticket with THE JACKSON FIVE IN CONCERT printed on it. I was both excited and turning green inside and out. All I could do was look.
“Mine is on my dresser,” Frieda said. “At home where the wind can’t blow it away.”
Lucy kept dancing and showing off her ticket. “You’ve got yours, right, Delphine?”
“Not yet,” I said, “but almost.”
“Almost? Almost?” Lucy went on as if I had said I almost had polio. “There’s no such thing as almost. Not with the Jackson Five! Girl, are you crazy?”
I didn’t see what the problem was. December was still a few weeks away. “We have half the money,” I told them.
“You better get a whole ticket,” Lucy said.
“Yeah, Delphine. They’re going to be sold out.” Frieda was almost as dramatic as Lucy, except she really cared and wasn’t showing off. “Mom made John-Isaac get my ticket. And he’s taking me.”
“And we’re sitting together,” Lucy said. But Frieda shot her a look, like she didn’t want me to know that. Lucy didn’t care.
“I have mine,” Evelyn said.
“Me too,” Monique said. Theresa and Carmen also chimed in.
Rukia said she wasn’t going. Then Lucy said no one had asked her, so I said, “It’s a free country. She can say what she wants to say.” Frieda said nothing.
I was glad we didn’t have group discussion, but instead worked silently on writing our presentations. The boys stayed on their side of the classroom—except for Ellis—and we stayed on our side. The next day we continued our work on the presidential election project. Thanks to Miss Marva Hendrix, I brought in a Shirley Chisholm button along with her leaflet. Even though Miss Shirley Chisholm wasn’t running for president, she was running for a seat in Congress. That was enough to show that a woman could hold a high office in politics. If enough men and women voted for her to be elected as our congressman, then who knew? Pigs might be flying over Alabama.
When I practiced my points and conclusion for Big Ma and Pa that night, Big Ma said she couldn’t believe they handed out grades for that. Pa said I spoke well. But neither of them said my points made sense. For the first time in a while, Big Ma and Pa seemed to be on the same side.
I showed my materials to my group. I was glad I at least had something to contribute. Rukia had so much information on the first woman governor and senators from the encyclopedia, she couldn’t stop talking. She said her mother had helped her. Mrs. Marshall was a principal at a different school. No wonder Rukia believed women could be president. Her mother ran an entire school.
Ellis had a piece of paper that he’d written his points on, but he kept it crumpled.
Danny the K had his big mouth open. “It will never happen,” he said.
The more he spoke, the more I thought, Yes it will. I wasn’t sure if I believed a woman could be president, but if Danny the K said it would never happen, I had to believe the opposite.
Danny the K didn’t dampen Rukia Marshall’s far-out thinking one iota. Rukia said, “Since you guys don’t believe a woman can run and we do, why don’t we do our presentation like a debate?”
“That’s dumb,” the K said.
Ellis shrugged.
I said, “That’s a smart idea.”
“Shut up, Stretch,” the K said.
“You shut up,” Rukia said.
Then Ellis said, “Debate. You mean us two against you two?”
It wasn’t that I didn’t think a woman could run the country. I didn’t think enough people would vote for her. There were more people out there like Big Ma, Pa, and Danny the K than there were people like Rukia and Miss Marva Hendrix.
I knew what would happen with Miss Shirley Chisholm on election night. She would run. Some people would vote for her and then she’d lose. Folks would say, “Nice try for a woman,” and “Nice try for a black woman.” Then we’d get a man for our congressman. A white man.
“We’ll slaughter them,” the K said.
“We’re prepared,” I said. “We’ll debate you under the table.”
Ellis Carter uncrumpled his loose-leaf sheet. To my surprise, he had a lot written on it.