CHAPTER 8
“Look, Mom!” Rube shouted from atop the jungle gym.
Hannah, Rube’s mother, had been watching him on the playground for hours. She never tired of seeing him happy and active. “My little monkey boy!” she exclaimed. “Show me what you got!” Little Rube swung himself across the monkey bars, his arms barely able to reach from one bar to the next. “C’mon, buddy! You’re almost there.”
His journey nearing completion, Rube reached for the final bar, but his fingers slipped, and he fell to the ground with force. Oh no. He lay there quietly and looked up at the sky. I’m a failure. The angry voices inside his head grew louder and louder. You couldn’t do it, could you? You can’t do anything.
“Shhhh! Rube, don’t listen to them,” Hannah commanded. “I believe in you.”
How did she know?
Her words were music to Rube’s ears. They flowed through him like fuel, energizing his body from his fingertips to his toes. You can do this. You can do this. He launched himself up from the ground and got back on the jungle gym lickety-split.
“That’s the spirit!” Hannah cheered.
This time, Rube focused his attention on the final bar. It didn’t matter how long it took or what happened in between; getting to that bar was the goal, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off the prize. Rube reached out his arm and began his journey. Slowly, he swung from one bar to the next, never losing sight of his target. Three more bars. Two more. One more bar!
Hannah could barely contain her glee. “Almost there!”
Rube reached out, grabbed the final bar, and swung himself onto it. “I did it!”
Hannah raced over, swept her son into her arms, and gave him a big hug. “You did it! I’m so proud of you!” She whisked him off of the jungle gym and through the air, twirling him in every direction. Rube giggled with happiness until Hannah planted him back on the ground and gazed deep into his eyes. “Did you find it?” she asked.
Rube didn’t understand the question. “Did I find what?”
“Did you find what I left for you?” replied Hannah. “I need to know that you found what I left for you, Rube. Tell me you found what I left for you.”
Without warning, Lala appeared at the top of the slide. “Nous triompherons. Nous prévaudrons. Ensemble!” she exclaimed. “Comprenez-vous?”1
What is happening!?
Rube turned back around to find his mother had gone. “Mom? Mom!” he cried. But Hannah was nowhere to be found. She was gone without a trace. As the skies darkened, Rube became nervous. Anxiety bubbles began growling deep within his stomach.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Zach said, poking his head out from behind a tree. “Or are you?”
Pearl tapped Rube on the back, startling him. “Are you going to do it?” she asked.
“Do what?!” he replied. In the blink of an eye, Rube’s classmates invaded the area from all sides like zombies on the attack. He shut his eyes and wished them all away. “Leave me alone!” But nothing happened. As his friends moved closer and closer, a blinding white light flared above Rube. He reached out for it and was instantly whisked away from the madness.
“Gah!” Rube exclaimed. Now he was on the couch, laptop on his chest, surrounded by piles and piles of books. It was all just a dream. Or nightmare, actually. Rube sat up and felt a bright warmth on his face. Sunlight. OMG, it’s morning! He’d fallen asleep in the living room. “This is bad, this is bad, this is bad,” he mumbled to himself as he ran upstairs and threw on some fresh clothes. No time to waste! He scrambled to school, energized and ready to tell his friends the things he had uncovered during his late-night history lesson.
I know the secret history of Beechwood.
Rube’s chat with his father had compelled him to investigate the things they’d spoken about. He started with books for younger readers, but they hadn’t given him what he needed. I want real stuff I can sink my teeth into. He had browsed his father’s library, stacking books in piles that were as tall as he was. Not quite. I’m taller, thanks. Once he’d assembled his reading materials, he cuddled up with Bertha on the couch and dove in headfirst. The more he had discovered, the more curious it made him. One thing had led to another, and soon he was on his computer, cross-referencing. Then came the eBooks. Suddenly, history wasn’t as far away as it had once been. He’d been bombarded with hard truths like never before, and they caused Rube to feel disappointed in himself. When he built machines, he always looked deeper. That’s how you make sure something is functioning the right way. But when it came to history, he hadn’t done his due diligence. He’d accepted everything at face value and had now come to learn that was a huge mistake.
Never again.
Rube couldn’t get to school fast enough. While he put the pedal to the metal, his friends and classmates mingled in the school courtyard, waiting for that first-period bell to ring. Boob had been waiting patiently near the bike rack by himself, but since Rube was a no-show, he decided to do a little mingling on his own. Reina was camped out under one of the voluminous sycamore trees, and Boob saw an opportunity for a friendly chat.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” he asked.
“A thing for science class,” she replied. “It’s about how hundred-million-year-old microbes under the sea floor were revived by scientists using a little food and oxygen. Bonkers stuff.”
“That’s kind of like me and cereal. One bowl of Honeybursts and I’m practically a new person!” Boob reached into his pocket and tossed a package of chocolate wafers onto Reina’s paper. “A little pick-me-up in case you need it. They’re German. Frau Rodriguez gave some to anyone who scored above seventy-five percent on the pop quiz, but I got them from Justin Chung, since he’s better at pop quizzes than I am.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Reina said, slipping the wafers into her backpack.
Boob lingered awkwardly. “Are you a member of the Pride Alliance?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh, um . . . I just thought . . .” Boob waffled. “Is it fun?”
Reina smiled. “Yeah, it’s cool. One of the better clubs at this school. Boring sometimes, but we’ve had a couple great outings. No one wants to go to a metal show, though, which is stupid. You into ethical taxidermy?”
“Uhhhh, I don’t know what that is . . .”
“Yeah, neither does anyone in the Pride Alliance. That’s why I’m trying to get them to do a roadkill scoop one of these days. As a team-building exercise or something. My aunt turned me on to taxidermy when we visited her a couple of years ago in Alaska. Are you thinking about going?”
“To Alaska? I mean, sure. It seems like a chill place.”
Reina laughed. “No, I mean the Pride Alliance meetings.”
“Me? Well, uh, I don’t . . .” Before Boob had a chance to answer, Rube roared into the schoolyard on his bike, kicking up dust as he went.
“STOP EVERYTHING! We need to talk!” he yelled.
Before Boob and Reina could ask Rube what he was so worked up about, Pearl stormed over to the three of them, a pile of crumpled, ripped-up papers in her hand.
“Someone tore down all my flyers!” she exclaimed.
“The ones we made?” Reina asked. Pearl nodded.
Boob was flummoxed. “The ones you made. As in, both of you?”
“Reina is helping me run my campaign,” replied Pearl. “She’s smart, clever, and thorough. And she makes a tight French bread pizza. That cool with you?”
“Yeah! Why wouldn’t it be? Reina is great.” Boob was inexplicably flustered. “She should run everything! If she wants to. Don’t listen to me! I just ate candy for breakfast. You were saying?”
“Look at this.” Pearl held up a canvas tote with Emilia Harris’s face on it that said PICK ME in big letters. “Emilia is running for president too and has been passing out gift bags filled with expensive stuff to anyone who asks. And apparently her rich parents are hiring a skywriter to draw her face in clouds above the school.”
“That’s not right,” Rube growled.
“Emilia’s mom is a famous yoga lady, and her dad is a city official. They can pretty much do whatever they want.” Pearl threw her hands up. “How am I supposed to compete with that kind of money?!”
The group went silent for a minute as they brainstormed ways to counteract Emilia’s public relations assault.
“Hmmm. Emilia has a huge following. What if you did crazy wild things on your social media? You’d get lots of attention!” Boob exclaimed. “Maybe not the good kind, though.”
“No. We’ve been through this,” Pearl said firmly. “That stuff is just a distraction. The posting and the checking, the posting and the checking . . . it’s all too much. I’m too busy. And likes don’t translate to votes.”
“What if they could? What if I made a machine that helped promote your candidacy?” Rube suggested. “Something that raised awareness. We could call it the Elevate-Or!”
Pearl winced at the thought. “Thanks for the suggestion, Rube, but what I need is tangible help. A machine is fine and everything, but I really need people to spread the word. I need them to show up for me.”
“Understood!” Rube said. “I promise to do whatever it takes to help you get elected. But first there’s something I have to tell you. All of you. About Beechwood.”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Boob, eyeing Rube suspiciously. “Red eyes. Messy hair. Sniff, sniff—stank breath. You were up all night building stuff, weren’t you?”
“No, I was . . .” Rube’s heart rate quickened. His anxiety bubbles were bubbling. It felt like his throat was strangling itself. This is not good. Pearl saw the impending panic attack and reminded Rube to relax.
“Breathe, Rube,” she said. Her voice was calm and soothing. “What’s going on?”
“I stayed up late last night reading history books—”
“Yuck!” Boob shrieked. “School?! At night?! What’s wrong with you?” Rube’s icy glare told him this wasn’t a time for joking around. “Sorry. Go on.”
“Lately I’ve been noticing things I haven’t seen before. Like the way people act and stuff. It started with Pearl’s neighbor. She was nasty toward Isaiah, and he hadn’t even done anything wrong.”
“Well, she’s racist,” said Pearl. “That’s what she does.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t make sense to me. Then yesterday I was at the Treasury, and a man came in, a town council person, and started yelling at the Rosens, trying to bully them out of their business. There was something familiar in his tone that reminded me of your hateful neighbor. So I talked to my dad about it, and he said there’s history we don’t know about. Stuff they don’t even teach us.”
Boob didn’t understand. “What does history have to do with Pearl’s racist neighbor?”
“I’m about to tell you!” Rube calmed himself and continued. “Last night I read a bunch of books from my dad’s library. Well, some of them I skimmed, but I read a lot, and let me tell you, we’re not getting the full story around here. Beechwood used to be a sundown town.”
Boob poked Rube with his elbow. “Sounds like an old Western movie. Oooo! Or a fancy resort.”
“Yeah, if fancy resorts were all about discrimination,” Reina chimed in. “From the 1930s through the 1960s, sundown towns were all-white communities built to be segregated. They wrote the laws a certain way so Black people, Jewish people, and other non-white people couldn’t live there. There were a bunch of them all over the United States. Still are if you look hard enough.”
“Is that true?” asked Boob. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s one hundred percent true,” Rube replied. “Black people weren’t allowed within the Beechwood city limits after dark, and if they got caught, the town’s people would hurt them. Back then, Black people had to make their own travel guide about how to avoid racist towns. It was crazy!”
“I don’t want to live here anymore,” Boob said, crossing his arms. “I’m not living in some nasty old racist town!”
Pearl snickered. “Where are you going to go to escape racism? Beechwood wasn’t the only sundown town in America. There were lots of them. Moving away from the problem isn’t going to solve it. What you’re supposed to do is stay and fight.”
“The lady has a point,” said Reina.
“She always does,” Rube replied.
“Fine. So what do we do?” asked Boob.
“We take down white supremacy, smash the patriarchy, and protect our LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters!” Rube shouted so loud, he attracted the attention of other students in the vicinity. “Sorry. I’m really keyed up right now.”
“What time are we doing all this?” asked Boob. “My sister is taking me to see the new Commander Long Johns movie tonight. In this one he actually wears pants.”
“Cut it out with the jokes, Boob. This is serious, and we have to face it. Head-on. James Baldwin once said, ‘Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.’”
“You’re quoting Baldwin now?” asked Pearl.
“He’s one of the most important Black American voices of the twenty-first century!”
“Yes, he is. I just didn’t know you knew that.”
Rube, you dummy. You’re not listening to yourself. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m supposed to say African American and not Black, right? Aw, man, I’m messing everything up already.”
Pearl saw Rube getting worked up and put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “We’re friends, Rube. I know who you are, and as messy as you can be . . .” There’s that word again. “I know you mean well. So here’s the deal. I’m cool with being called Black. Some people want to be called African American. If you call them Black, they might correct you. Take the note and move on. No big deal.”
“Same goes for pronouns,” Reina added. “Just ask nicely if you don’t know. It’s really not that big of a deal as long as you’re not rude about it.”
“Understood,” Rube said.
“Superintendent Atwater def knows about the whole sundown thing,” said Reina. “His family has been a part of this town’s inner workings for generations.” That’s right! I saw that somewhere in my research. “The guy’s name is in our history textbooks!” What?! I missed that tidbit. “There has to be a connection.”
“Let’s see . . .” Rube got one of his dad’s history books out of his backpack, eager to share another of his discoveries. As he flipped through its pages, a note fell out. What is this? It was a checklist written on lined paper. In my mom’s handwriting. Though the ink had faded and the note was worn, the text was as clear as day.
LISTEN MORE.
EDUCATE YOURSELF.
SPEAK OUT!
USE YOUR VOICE TO LIFT OTHERS.
STAND UP FOR THE PEOPLE WHO NEED YOU AND STAY STANDING.
DO THE WORK!
A note from my mom to . . . herself . . . or . . . to me? As Rube stared at the crinkly piece of paper, a lump grew in his throat. I miss her so much.
BRRRRRRRRRING!
The bell rang to signal it was time for class. Rube stuffed the paper back into the book and put them both in his backpack. “I’ve got another idea.”
Boob had seen that look on Rube’s face before. “Oh, he’s feelin’ feisty now. What are you gonna do? Storm into the principal’s office and demand justice?”
“Something like that.” Rube swung his backpack over his shoulder and marched toward the building. “Feel free to join me if you want! The more the merrier.”
“I was just kidding!” Boob shouted. “Should we join him? I’m not dressed for justice.”
Reina was impressed. “Didn’t expect such a hasty response from that one. I’m definitely here for it.”
“When Rube gets something in his head, it becomes hard to dislodge,” said Pearl. “We better go with him in case his mouth writes a check his butt can’t cash.”
“Butts cashing checks?! Butts who are also professors?! What is this world coming to?!” Boob said frantically.
Rube marched through the hallways of Beechwood Middle feeling empowered and ready to fight. Not actually fight, like with fists and stuff. Like . . . fight the power. You know what I mean. The first hurdle was getting past Principal Kim’s assistant, Miss Mary. We have history. She was as sweet as could be, but as a highly trained former member of the military, nothing escaped her sight. Miss Mary was the perfect person for vice principal and had campaigned for the position over the summer, but pesky “budget cuts” had eliminated the role entirely. I’m surprised she stuck around. Upon arriving at the front office, Rube and his friends peered through the doorway to find Miss Mary talking on the phone and looking profoundly worried. Something is wrong.
“It’s getting worse,” she said in a hushed voice. “All these changes, and I still don’t think we’ll be able to save it. Oh, yes, Atwater is the worst. Horrible. A real ass. But what can I do? He runs everything. I just worry about the students. If they only knew . . .”
“First thing in the morning and Miss Mary is already stressed out?” whispered Boob. “Maybe this isn’t the right time.”
“It’s never going to be the right time. That’s why we just have to do it,” Rube said, forging ahead. “Hey, Miss Mary! We’re here to see Superintendent Atwater. We know he’s in there. His ugly yellow car is parked outside.” Instead of stopping and waiting for Miss Mary’s approval to enter, like he had originally planned to do, Rube just kept walking. He swung open the door and went straight into Principal Kim’s office. Feels like the right thing at the right time. “Morning!” he said in a chipper voice. “How’s everyone feeling today?”
Principal Kim was sitting with Superintendent Atwater, going over a stack of very important-looking papers. “Rube!” he said, startled. “What are you doing?”
Good question. I’m not entirely sure of the answer. Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more. The moment had overwhelmed Rube’s senses. He didn’t quite have the words. Yet. What he did have were friends gathered in the doorway behind him as backup.
Principal Kim was starting to get steamed. “Rube, you can’t just barge in here and do whatever you want at any given time! That’s not how things work.”
Say something. Do something. Anything, Golberg. Rube fished his history textbook out of his backpack and tossed it onto Superintendent Atwater’s lap. Which he did not like. “Why don’t our history textbooks tell the truth about this town? Or the country, for that matter? You’re not a historian, but for some reason you’re listed as an author. What’s up with that?”
Atwater’s hands shook with anger as he placed the textbook on the desk. “I’ve written quite a few published texts. Power affords one opportunity, and the truth is . . . let’s just say . . . subjective. Not that your brain is capable of understanding something so complex.” Rude. “This school didn’t have the funds to buy new materials, which was a terrible shame. So I kindly donated these and bestowed the gift of knowledge upon the student body, choosing to focus on the positive parts of history.”
“It’s not the truth,” Rube pressed.
“If you want to know more, there are plenty of other books in the library downtown. Now, remove yourselves from this room or face expulsion.”
“You lied,” Rube shot back, unfazed.
Welp. Guess it doesn’t matter now. Expulsion, here I come!
“I did not lie,” Atwater growled.
“You did, actually,” Principal Kim said sheepishly. “Technically. Or the book did. A lie of omission is still a lie. And now that I think about it, I really should have read the fine print before I agreed to use it.”
Atwater was displeased to hear that. “You’ll speak when spoken to, Ted.” Ouch. “As for you children, get to class immediately or . . .”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Rube declared. “You can’t just erase the past and pretend like it didn’t happen. This whole town was built on racism. You’re from one of Beechwood’s founding families, Atwater. You know it was a sundown town.”
Principal Kim waved his hand through the air. “Wait a minute. Back up. What?!”
“What a sad bit of history you’ve found.” Atwater’s smile was as fake as his alligator shoes. “An unfortunate stain on Beechwood’s past, and something a child could never understand. But times have changed. The world is a different place now. No need to dwell.”
“The world isn’t as different as you think,” said Rube. “But it will be.”
Atwater narrowed his eyes. “If Beechwood is such a horrible place, why are you still here? Why are your families here? Did you ever think of that?”
“I had the same question,” Rube confessed. “But my friend Pearl here is right. Moving away from the problem isn’t going to solve it. What you’re supposed to do is stay and fight.”
Pearl reached into her pocket, pulled out a PEARL HAS A PLAN button, and pinned it on Superintendent Atwater. “Vote for Pearl,” she said, grinning. “For change!”
Atwater glared at Rube. “You read a book and now you know everything. Is that it? If I had talked like this to one of my elders when I was a young man, I would have received a spanking.”
Ew. Gross.
Principal Kim, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed, did his best to deescalate the situation. “Everyone, let’s take a step back, cool off, and start over. Okay?”
All right. I think I can do that. Rube considered his words and softened his tactics. “‘We can disagree and still love each other. Unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.’ Robert Jones Jr. said that. You should check out one of his books someday. You might learn something.”
“Ha,” Atwater scoffed. “You’re far too young to be reading books you don’t understand.”
“Women didn’t have the right to vote until 1920, interracial marriage wasn’t legal until 1967, and LGBTQ+ people couldn’t be out and proud in the military until 2010. Those are just a few of the things I learned by reading. And I understand all of that just fine,” Rube replied.
Boob chimed in, “You know, I was thinking . . .” Uh-oh. Boob is thinking again. This could go a lot of different ways. “Black history is American history, but we only talk about it in February, during its special month. And this school doesn’t teach any LGBTQ+ history at all.”
Atwater had reached his limit. The outrage that had been stewing inside him was at a tipping point. The veins on his forehead were bulging. The spray he used to color his hair dripped down his cheek and onto his shirt. This guy looks like he’s about to pop! “Well, why don’t we just teach the history of EVERYTHING, then?!” Atwater bellowed, launching out of his chair in a rage.
“Dude. That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Reina deadpanned.
Principal Kim took control of the situation. “Kids, this is terribly out of order, and you should be ashamed of yourselves for causing such a ruckus,” he said, winking directly at Rube. Principal Kim is up to something. “Here at Beechwood Middle School, we focus on the Five Cs—critical thinking, creativity, communication, collaboration, and character. I haven’t seen them displayed in your actions today, and that’s disappointing. Therefore, you’ll all be receiving a reprimand and detention. Come with me.”
Principal Kim ushered Rube and his friends out of the office, closing the door tightly behind him. “Phew. That got intense there for a minute.”
“You’re on our side, right, Principal Kim?” asked Rube. “You see how Atwater really is, don’t you?”
Principal Kim chose his words carefully. “Rube, your behavior was rude and disruptive, but . . .” He paused. “You’re right.” I knew it. “I was hired by the school board to enact their agenda. I didn’t know when I signed on that their agenda was bad for students in a lot of different ways. I’ve done everything I can to stop them, but . . .” He looked at Miss Mary, who was shaking her head. “I’ve said too much. Please believe that I’m doing everything I can to make this school a better place. We have some big obstacles to overcome, but I’m fighting for you every single day. I suggest you bring these issues to light during the election. Let the students hear what you have to say.”
“That’s the plan.” Pearl grinned.
“We’re not really in trouble, are we?” asked Boob. “My dad will freak out if he sees the school’s number pop up on his caller ID.”
“I’ll smooth things over with Atwater, but I will have to write you up,” Principal Kim said. “A reprimand or something. Don’t worry, no one is calling your parents. For now, though, I need all of you to get to class. Go, go, go.”
Rube, Boob, Pearl, and Reina scrambled out of the principal’s office and down the hallway toward their classrooms. They felt invigorated. And a little scared. Challenging the superintendent had been the right thing to do, but they wondered if their plan might backfire.
“I can’t believe we did that,” Rube said, breathless. “My heart is racing.”
“Honestly, I’m really happy someone stood up to that pig,” replied Reina.
“Nice work in there, Rube,” Pearl said, beaming. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” Me neither. “But I’m glad to see I was wrong.”
“I wish I could just build a machine that would solve the world’s problems and make things better.”
“You can,” Pearl assured him. “Real change just takes a different set of tools.”
Real change just takes a different set of tools.
Huh.