No Laughter Here

  “Just one game, just one, just one. Please?”

  Her mother still does her hair.

  “I said no.”

  “But y’all never play,” Jerilyn wailed. “Y’all just sit there.”

  I felt so much older than Jerilyn. Older than everybody. All they had to worry about was finding another set of hands to clap Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.

  She gave up on us and went to Ida.

  As soon as we got rid of Jerilyn, Juwan came over bouncing a basketball. I tried to stare past him, but he took up my view in his big, striped shirt. He knew we were ignoring him, but he kept bouncing his ball closer. So close the ball missed Victoria’s foot by inches. She didn’t react. Her hypnotic trick was amazing. Unfortunately I didn’t have the art of ignoring knuckleheads down to a science. I reacted for her.

  “Hey. Watch it.”

  “Or what?”

  “You know what.”

  He stood there, threatening us, bouncing his ball. Bam, bam, bam.

  “Speak, mummy, speak.”

  “Your mama’s a mummy,” I said.

  He kept bouncing, but Victoria wouldn’t give him any energy. That made him mad. Bam. He was too close, with his big stripes and big head. Bam, bam, bam. I could see the dust from the ball as it hit the ground. Bam, bam, bam.

  “She went to deepest, darkest Africa and they turned her into a mummy.” This time he missed her shoe by a centimeter.

  “Shut up, you big fathead.”

  Then he started doing a stiff walk around us. We ignored him. That made him even madder.

  “I bet if I hit her, she won’t move. Know why? She’s a mummy. A dummy mummy.” Then he bounced the ball and it hit Victoria square on the toe of her shoe. Bam! I jumped up and hit Juwan as hard as I could in the gut. He hit me back, so I hauled back to China and let him have it, right on his nose. I got him good because my hand and his face were bloody. By this time kids swarmed around us, shouting, “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Then Mrs. Anderson, the recess aide, separated us. First we’d have to go to the nurse’s office to clean up. After that, the vice principal’s office. As we left the playground, I turned back to see if Victoria was all right, but Mrs. Anderson poked me and said, “March, young lady.” The last I saw, Victoria hadn’t moved from our spot.

  Another Juwan Episode

  While I was waiting for Miss Lady to pick me up, Vice Principal Skinner called Mom at her job. All they told her was there had been a fight and that she or Dad had to come to school before I could return to class. When they came home from work, Mom and Dad asked if I was all right. I said yeah. But no one asked me what happened, which was okay because I couldn’t put it into words. Not without justifying hitting Juwan, or betraying my vow to Victoria.

  Dad was mad. He didn’t want to wait for the morning meeting in Vice Principal Skinner’s office. He had had enough of Juwan Spenser’s “fatherless antics” and wanted to have a talk with Miss Spenser about her son.

  “Where does that boy live?” he demanded.

  “And accomplish what, Roy?” my mother said. “Where do you think the bad seed sprang from?”

  “That boy needs to learn how to treat a young lady.”

  Mom sighed heavily. She was more tired of Dad than upset about the whole Juwan thing. “We’ll handle it at school, Roy. That’s why we received the phone call. To iron it out with a school official. That’s the right thing to do, and we do what’s right.”

  She had been through this too many times to get excited. In Pre-K Juwan spilled a carton of green paint all over my picture because mine looked better than his. In the first grade he smashed my hard-boiled Easter egg for no reason. Each year, except for the third grade, there was always an incident between Juwan and me.

  Dad finally gave in. “You’re sure you’re okay, puddin’?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “That’s my Girl Warrior. Brave and beautiful. Show me that left hook.”

  “Roy.”

  I wasn’t sure what would happen in Vice Principal Skinner’s office the next morning. As far as my parents were concerned, this fight was just another Juwan episode. During those parent meetings in the vice principal’s office, Mom spoke calmly and politely to Miss Spenser. But underneath her calm was an attitude that said, “I don’t expect anything more from your child.” Mom is sort of a snob. She always points out other kids’ public behavior—mostly black kids—and says, “There’s no reason for you to behave like that.” That’s why she likes the Ojikes, besides their being from Africa. She thinks the Ojikes are quiet, refined people. Mom describes Mrs. Ojike as Queen Nefertiti herself. Graceful and regal. Victoria giggled when I told her. Victoria said, “Doesn’t your mother know that Queen Nefertiti was Egyptian? And dead?”

  I giggled, hearing Victoria’s voice in my head. Then I realized, I wasn’t the only one nervous about tomorrow. Victoria was probably worried about what I’d say to justify my socking Juwan. Victoria knew that my talking is like my essay writing: once I get going, I can’t stop myself.

  I had to let her know that I wouldn’t break my vow, no matter what. I got on-line before I went to bed and sent an e-mail to QueenV3: “If I should tell, I will die.”

  That Thursday morning we were all standing in the hallway outside the principal’s office. Miss Spenser and Juwan. Mom and me. Mom told Dad to go to work. There was no need for all of us to gang up on Miss Spenser.

  After awkward greetings between our mothers and a long silence in the hallway, Juwan’s mother said, “I suppose you think my child started it.”

  Mom was sure Juwan had thrown the first punch. So sure she didn’t even ask for my side. Mom just said, “We shouldn’t have this discussion in the hallway.”

  Then Vice Principal Skinner, a tall, light-skinned man with wavy, combed-back hair, opened the door and welcomed us in like he was hosting a PTA meeting. Vice Principal Skinner wore a gray suit with a burgundy tie. Come to think of it, Vice Principal Skinner always wore a suit. He attended a lot of parent meetings.

  Juwan told his side first. He said, “I was dribbling a basketball, not even bothering them, and she punched me in the nose.”

  My mother wasn’t an eyeball roller, but this time she couldn’t help herself.

  Miss Spenser said, “I don’t send my son to school to fight. Your child”—she pointed at Mom—“should keep her hands to herself.”

  Mom coughed to keep from laughing. If I didn’t know my mother was going to punish me later, I would have truly enjoyed all of this.

  Vice Principal Skinner said, with the utmost confidence in me, “Akilah, tell us your side.”

  I stood up, cleared my throat, and said, “I hit Juwan Spenser as hard as I could.” Then I took my seat.

  Sitting with Miss Lady

  You do not apologize when you are not sorry. You do not pretend that you’ve learned your lesson even if you are allowed back into class by saying those two little words. Even if Vice Principal Skinner promises to take your reasons into account. Even if your mother orders you to apologize and is humiliated and angry when you will not. Even if Miss Spenser uses your refusal to apologize as a weapon against you and your mother. Even if you will face an unimaginable punishment when you get home. You do not apologize when you know that you would do it again.

  My mother was furious. Too furious to speak to me as we walked home.

  “Go upstairs,” she said. “Don’t come out for any reason whatsoever.” She sounded like Auntie Cass telling my cousins, “Go get me a tree switch.”

  I was called downstairs for dinner later.

  I could bear my mother’s anger because it made me brave, like a warrior going through a trial. That was how I felt fighting for Victoria. Like the true Girl Warrior my dad always says I am.

  What I couldn’t take was my father’s disappointment. His woundedness. His face.

  “Why, Akilah? Why?”

  “I can’t talk about it,” I said.

  “Why?” he persisted. “You don?
??t have to be afraid of Juwan.”

  His babying me made Mom fly into a rage. “She better be afraid of me! She better be afraid of what I might do!”

  I was sent to my room to reflect.

  The doorbell rang. I peeked out of my window and saw the top of Victoria’s head. She had brought my books and homework and probably my classwork for today and tomorrow. That’s what your “class buddy” does when you are sick. Nelson stood at her side.

  I wanted to love Nelson once again and feel myself falling over a cliff at the sight of him. I kept myself steady, remembering that Nelson didn’t stand tall when Victoria needed him. Only I was prepared to do that.

  I watched Victoria and Nelson walk past the elm trees and out of view.

  For the next three school days I had to stay with Miss Lady while my mother went to work. Miss Lady seemed pleased to have something to do besides walking Gigi and picking bugs off her rosebush. She sat on a stool and watched as I converted decimals into fractions. She watched as I read two chapters of Last Summer with Maizon. Then she watched as I wrote my book report.

  “None of that staring into space, young lady,” she said whenever I paused to collect my thoughts.

  “I have to think before I write,” I explained. This is true, because my mother goes through my reports and essays and writes, “What do you mean by this?” whenever she thinks I’m talking out of my head.

  “No dawdling, Akilah. I want your mother to see your progress.”

  Mom made it clear that I was not to enjoy myself in Miss Lady’s home. There was to be no TV, no radio, no long talks about nothing, and no playing with Gigi. Obviously Mom knows nothing about Gigi. That fussy little pom-pom doesn’t like kids and doesn’t play with anyone.

  At noon Miss Lady made lunch for us. Tuna salad with mustard, no mayo. She said mayo was too oily and unsettling. She gave me an apple instead of cookies or chips. Miss Lady said young people were too fat and full of junk. That made me laugh, the way she said it. Full of junk.

  Miss Lady is slender. Never had any kids. At least I didn’t see any pictures anywhere, only framed ones of her and Gigi. Right then I decided that twenty years from now, I’d forgive Nelson and marry him. I didn’t want to have a house filled with only dog pictures.

  I got started on science, my last subject. All I had to do was read a chapter, but Miss Lady didn’t believe me.

  “Then tell me about these”—she squinted to get a better look—“sharks.”

  Miss Lady followed along as I told her about the evolution of sharks over 400 million years. When she was satisfied that I had been studying and not making stuff up, she said, “That’s good. Continue reading.”

  I was glad she didn’t quiz me afterward. My eyes might have been following the words in the chapter, but my mind was on Victoria. I was missing her. Our silences together. Her shoulder next to mine as we sit in the school yard. Then I missed Ms. Saunders, and school activities, and recess. I missed the lunchroom smell on pizza days. The unmarked surface of my desk. The intercom announcements in the morning. Working with stencils in art. Learning a new song from Kenya.

  When you start to miss people and things from the depths of your soul, you can taste, see, and feel every good thing you’re missing. You don’t recall the bad parts. That is for sure. After three days of sitting in Miss Lady’s house, reading and writing and eating mustard tuna sandwiches, I didn’t have one thought of Juwan. Not one. Even the details of Victoria’s horrible operation started to cloud up in my mind.

  I understood why people are sent to prison. It’s so they will miss everything good around them and regret what they did to be incarcerated. That would have made a good word of the day for Victoria and me. Incarcerated. I was tired of being incarcerated.

  By my last day of being away from school and cut off from my privileges, I didn’t feel like a warrior standing tall for Victoria.

  I wanted to play video games with my dad.

  I wanted to sit up under my mom while she scratched my scalp and braided my hair. We hadn’t done that since I was nine and declared myself old enough to do my own hair.

  I wanted to be with my 5–2 classmates, raising my hand like a maniac.

  I wanted to get back into my world.

  The doorbell chimed at a quarter of six. For the last time Mom had come to collect me. Before we left, she opened my loose-leaf binder while Miss Lady reported my activities and confirmed that I hadn’t enjoyed myself one bit.

  I said thank you and good-bye to Miss Lady. Gigi was glad to see me go. She jumped and barked, showing more excitement than she had during the entire three days of my incarceration. Mom also thanked Miss Lady and gave her money, which Miss Lady said was not necessary. Then we walked down to our house in silence.

  I washed up, made the salad, and set the table. Then Mom, Dad, and I sat down, said the blessing, and passed the food. For the fifth and final time Mom asked, “Are you ready to explain yourself, Akilah?”

  For the fifth and final time I told my parents, “No. I am not.”

  Honored

  “I hope you’ve used this time out productively,” Vice Principal Skinner said. Today he wore his blue suit.

  “Oh, she has,” my mother spoke up. I felt a little sorry for Mom. It was hard for her, suddenly being the mother of the bad kid.

  Mr. Skinner was also sympathetic toward her. “I don’t doubt you, Mrs. Hunter,” he said. His eyes were kind.

  To me he was stern. “Akilah, we do not solve problems with our fists,” he said. “Violence is never a solution.”

  A framed portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. hung on Mr. Skinner’s wall, just above his head. You couldn’t look at Vice Principal Skinner sitting behind his desk without seeing Dr. King.

  While Mr. Skinner talked about problem solving, I thought, Maybe I wouldn’t have punched Juwan if I hadn’t known what they did to Victoria in that doctor’s office. Maybe I could have outsmarted Juwan, or told Mrs. Anderson on him.

  The fact was, I knew what had happened to Victoria and I was mad. Sick, angry, and mad. I told Juwan not to mess with her, but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept on and kept on until he hit her. Then I stepped up to defend her. I had to. No one else would.

  Suddenly I felt stronger. Not broken down, like when I sat in Miss Lady’s house. I knew why I hit Juwan and why I wouldn’t apologize.

  “Say something, Akilah,” my mother urged. She was still humiliated and embarrassed that Miss Spenser had outmothered her.

  “Can I return to my class now?”

  Everything looked the same when I entered the classroom and took my place next to Victoria. Juwan snickered at me, but I couldn’t care less. Only Ms. Saunders’s opinion bothered me. I was glad to be back in class, but I could barely face her. If I did, I would have seen the betrayal and disappointment in her eyes, even behind her glasses.

  Ms. Saunders and I were supposed to be starting over on a clean slate, but I had gone back on our deal. I was not the Akilah she knew I could be. I was a bad kid who got suspended for fighting.

  Still, I was determined to keep my vow to Victoria. I wouldn’t try to explain myself. Not even to get on Ms. Saunders’s good side.

  Victoria and I found our usual spot during recess. Jerilyn came over as soon as we sat down.

  “I hope you know I can’t play with you anymore,” she said to me. “Because you’ve been suspended.”

  Jerilyn had pink teddy bears in her scrunchie. She waited for a response, but I wouldn’t give her one. She left us alone.

  “Did you get my e-mail?”

  Victoria nodded.

  “I didn’t tell them,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “How are you sure?” I asked.

  Victoria looked me over from head to toe, then said, “I thought you might tell if your mother beat you. But I see you have no welts or bruises on your legs.”

  “My mother’d never beat me. And even if she did, I still wouldn’t tell.”

  “I’m gla
d,” she said. “I thought you might start to tell a little, then tell everything.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I didn’t. I kept my lips zipped. And I won’t apologize, either.”

  “I know.”

  We had four more minutes before recess ended. Victoria didn’t say another word while we sat out by the hopscotches, but she didn’t have to. I replayed her saying “I’m glad” and “I know” in my head like songs. Besides those one-word answers she gave in class, I was the only person she really talked to. I was honored.

  Ayodele

  I was still on punishment, although Dad had long ago caved in. I felt sorry for him. He had no one to play with, so he raised our basketball hoop up to NBA height because it was about time I learned to shoot a proper jumper.

  Nothing had changed as far as Mom was concerned. She was determined to teach me a lesson. I knew she felt betrayed after all of our backyard tea talks. When we were down in Silver Spring, she bragged to her sisters about how we talked openly about everything. In reply Auntie Cass said, “Mark my words, Baby. That will soon change.”

  In spite of being on punishment, I didn’t miss TV like I thought I would. Besides, everyone talked about what was on TV in the lunchroom the next day. It was doing stuff on my computer that I missed. I could use my computer, but “for educational purposes only.” Mom made herself perfectly clear. While I was up in my room, there was to be no playing music, no endless surfing, and no computer games. “No amusement whatsoever” were her exact words.

  She didn’t want to hear any laughter, period. She was still mad that I wouldn’t talk or apologize. As always, Dad tried to jolly me at the dinner table that evening. Mom gave him a look.