I zero straight in on their hands, and my whole world stops.
He . . . they . . .
There’s something between them.
I should’ve known better. He’s the Luke to my Leia. Nothing more.
Shana smiles at him as he rubs his thumb along her hand, then she looks at me. I’ve somehow kept tears out of my eyes. “A bunch of us were talking, and we’ve decided that we’re gonna do something about this.”
I’m trying to remember how to speak. My heart’s trying to remember how to beat. “Something like what?”
“We don’t know yet,” she says. “Ever since the riots and protests last year, I’ve been inspired to do something. I can’t just sit around and let things happen anymore. We were hoping you’d feel the same way.”
“We’ve formed an unofficial black and Latinx student coalition,” says Malik.
This is my first time hearing about it.
“We plan to demand changes from the administration. Fact is, they need us at that school. They only started busing kids in from other neighborhoods so they could get grants. If word gets out that the black and brown kids are being harassed—”
“It would mean problems for Midtown,” Shana says.
“Right,” says Malik. “And if word got out about what happened to you specifically—”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. “Who said I wanna be the poster child for this?”
“Hear me out, Bri,” Malik says. “A couple of people recorded what happened, but only after you were already on the ground. I recorded the entire incident. I could post it online.”
“What?”
“It shows that you didn’t do anything to deserve what they did,” he continues. “All these rumors that are spreading are just a way to try to justify what happened.”
“Yeah,” Shana says. “I’ve already heard that some of the parents are okay with it because they heard you were a drug dealer. They want Long and Tate back.”
That’s a slap to my face if there ever was one. “Are you serious?”
That explains why that boy yelled out “Free Long and Tate.” Well, he’s an asshole too, but still, that gives some insight.
“It’s ridiculous,” says Malik. “Who knows what could happen though once I post the video?”
Oh, I know what could happen. It could end up all over the news and social media. People all over the world will watch me get thrown onto the ground. Eventually, it’ll be forgotten, because guess what? Something similar will happen to another black person at a Waffle House or Starbucks or some shit, and everybody will move on to that.
I’d rather forget that it happened at all. Besides, I don’t have time to worry about that stuff. My family doesn’t have heat.
Malik leans forward. “You have a chance to do something here, Bri. This video gets out and you speak up? It could actually change things at our school.”
“Then you speak up,” I say.
He sits back. “Wow. Let me get this straight: You’d rather rap about guns and stuff you don’t do instead of speak up in a positive way about something that actually happened to you? That’s some sellout shit, Bri.”
I look him up and down. “Excuse you?”
“Let’s be real,” he says. “Only reason you rapped like that is ’cause that’s how everybody raps, right? You thought it would be an easy way to a hit song and make money.”
“Nah, ’cause not everybody has lines about getting pinned to the goddamn ground!”
I’m so loud, several heads turn our way.
“It’s none of your business why I rapped what I rapped,” I say through my teeth. “But I said what I wanted to say, including about the incident. That’s all I’m gonna ever say about it. But if I did rap that way just to get a ‘hit’ and make money, then good for me, considering all the bullshit my family’s dealing with. Until you wake up in a cold house, then come at me, bruh.”
It seems to hit him over the span of a few seconds—his eyes widen as he probably remembers that Jay lost her job, he looks horrified that he forgot that we don’t have gas, and he opens and closes his mouth like he regrets what he said. “Bri, I’m sorry—”
“Screw you, Malik,” I say, for multiple reasons.
I slide out of the booth, throw my hoodie over my head, and storm out of the shop.
Twelve
I didn’t talk to Malik for the rest of the day. We passed each other in the halls, and as far as I was concerned, he was a stranger. He got on the bus that afternoon,