Although the rally was still going strong, Vonetta, Fern, and I couldn’t get down into the crowd fast enough once we had spotted Cecile. We weren’t the hugging type, but we were all happy. We were happy Cecile had been released from jail and happy she was there to see us onstage reciting “I Birthed a Nation.” Thanks to Vonetta, now people called Cecile’s poem “I Birthed a Black Nation.” I had braced myself for her crazy anger at us for disturbing her poem like we disturbed her quiet, but she didn’t mention one word about all the “black” we’d thrown into her poem. In fact, Cecile just seemed different after having been locked up. She even limited her disguise to her big shades. She was feeling so good—in a way that I think only I could make out—that she even gave us compliments.
Vonetta got hers at my expense. Cecile said, “See that, Delphine? You need to speak up like Vonetta. Now, that’s how you recite a poem.” She might as well have said Vonetta was Hollywood’s black Shirley Temple. Vonetta lived on Cecile’s praise for the rest of the summer and into the next year.
To Fern, Cecile said, “Who said you could write a poem?”
Fern said, “I didn’t write it. I said it.”
“Surely did,” Cecile said, beating her to it; and we all laughed. What Cecile didn’t say was Fern’s name. Fern didn’t seem to notice, but I did.
I waited for Cecile to give me my share of praise. I didn’t need it heaped on like my sisters did, but I knew it would be good, because mine would come last. For a change, I planned to roll around in it and grin like a dummy.
But then some of the organizers of the rally swarmed “Sister Nzila” and “Little Nzila.” They fussed over Fern, telling her how brave and clever she was. The organizers had also made time for Nzila to speak of her “unjust arrest,” but Cecile waved her opportunity away. “Y’all heard my daughters,” she said, more tired than proud. “They said it all for me.”
Vonetta, Fern, and I hugged Sister Mukumbu and Sister Pat and told them we had a great time at the People’s Center summer camp. They praised our work. Praised Fern’s bravery. Vonetta’s loud, strong voice, and my being a leader and a helper. They told “Sister Nzila” all about us and that they wanted us back next year.
The rest of the rally was all the speeches about Huey Newton and Bobby Hutton. Cecile said she wasn’t staying for that, even though she could have been the star of the day. She said, “Y’all can stay and run around with your friends. Tomorrow you’ll be on the plane to New York.”
Vonetta and Fern ran off with Janice and Beatrice. Eunice and I found a place to sit and share a bag of chips. I told her we would be flying to New York the next day. She asked if we were coming back, and I said I didn’t know. I suggested we become pen pals and write each other letters once a month. That sounded okay to her. Neither one of us was really a talker or run-around player. So we just sat there.
Hirohito found us sitting and jumped into a karate pose. “Did you see me?”
“We saw you, Hirohito,” Eunice said. “It would have been better if you broke some boards like they do on TV.” She demonstrated with a karate chop to a pile of air boards.
He didn’t really look at her. He looked at me. “Want a ride on my go-kart?”
I didn’t know how to be with Hirohito while Eunice was there. I just said no and looked at my sneakers. I felt my face growing warm. My feet were too big. Too big for a sixth-grade girl.
“Hirohito, you let a girl on your go-kart? Your precious go-kart?” I couldn’t tell if Eunice was teasing him or mad at him.
“Yeah. So.”
“You like Delphine.”
I hit her on the shoulder like she was Vonetta. She didn’t seem to mind. Teasing Hirohito and making me feel silly seemed to provide Eunice with entertainment and satisfaction. She put her hand over her mouth to gasp. “I can’t believe you, Delphine. You like Hirohito. You’re just as bad as Janice and your sister.”
This was the second time Eunice had gotten me, and both times had to do with Hirohito. I never had anyone over me like a sister or brother and didn’t know how to answer back. I didn’t want to deny it in case he liked me too, but I wasn’t about to be the one to say it in words. I hadn’t even said it to myself yet.
Eunice wouldn’t let up. She was finally enjoying herself. “Hirohito Woods, I can’t believe you let a girl ride on your go-kart.”
“So.”
I smiled without smiling like Cecile does. Besides. He could have said “I don’t like her” or “She’s too tall” or “She’s too plain.” He could have said what all the boys in my class said: “I wouldn’t like her if she were the last girl on earth.” Instead, Hirohito said, “So.” Like “Okay.” Like it was okay to like Delphine.
I said it too. “So.”