Piecing Me Together(43)

I am not sure how to answer his question, because nothing but pain will pour out. I tell him, “I’m really sad about it.” I tell him sad because I think white people can handle black sadness better than black anger. I feel both. But sadness gets sympathy, so I stick with that.

“It’s really a shame,” Mr. Franklin says. “If you ask me, I think all cops need training on race relations. That girl was just being a teenager, and teenagers shouldn’t be brutalized for acting their age.”

When he says this, the tension in my chest dissolves.

“I don’t know what it’s going to take for this country to live up to its promise,” Mr. Franklin says. He shakes his head and sighs a deep sigh.

Sam comes back from the attic, and I am eager to go to her room, to talk about anything other than Natasha Ramsey. “Sorry it took so long,” she tells me.

We walk into her room. The floor is covered with jeans, shirts, belts, and sweaters. “I don’t have any summer clothes to bring,” Sam says. She folds a yellow T-shirt. “This is the only thing. Everything else will be too hot.”

“What did you wear last summer?” I ask.

“Nothing cute,” Sam answers. She packs a pair of jeans.

I scoot part of the pile over into one big mountain and sit on the floor. I am really trying to be mature and not take my disappointment out on Sam. “Tell me about your trip to Costa Rica. What are you all going to do?”

“Well, it’s going to be more work than fun,” she says. “Mr. Flores has us waking up early to volunteer at a school where we’ll work with children and help out the teachers. We’ll have to write a reflection in Spanish at the end of every day.”

I ask her, “You have to have some free time, right?”

“Well, I think we’re going zip-lining or something at Manuel Antonio National Park. And I heard that we might hike through Monteverde—which doesn’t sound that fun,” Sam says. “I know it’s famous for orchids or something, but I hate hiking, especially in the heat.” Sam is not a good actress, but I do appreciate that she’s trying to downplay this trip.

“Well, whatever you’ll be doing, you’ll be in Cartago, Costa Rica. Take pictures. Of everything. I want all the details when you get back.”

“So, what are you going to do during spring break?”

“Well, I won’t be going to Costa Rica,” I say.

“Are you mad I’m going?”

“No. I’m mad I’m not going.”

“Jade, this isn’t fair. You get chosen to do cool things all the time, and the one time the school chooses me for something, you get jealous?” Sam throws a bunch of tank tops into her suitcase.

“Why does everyone think I get all the fun stuff?” I ask Sam. “SAT prep is not cool. Tutoring after school is not fun. You’re going to Costa Rica—”

“You went to the symphony. I’ve never been to the symphony.”

“You’d rather go to the Oregon Symphony than to Costa Rica?”

“Jade—”

“I didn’t think so.”

Sam opens her closet. There’s a plastic shoe holder hanging from the back of the door. She pulls out a pair of flip-flops from one of the plastic sleeves and adds them to her suitcase. “Can we please talk about something else?” she says.

“Why can’t we talk about this?” I ask. “Why can’t we talk about how unfair it is that at St. Francis, people who look like you get signed up for programs that take them to Costa Rica, and people who look like me get signed up for programs that take them downtown?”

I want to get up right now, want to end the conversation and leave. But I can hear Maxine telling me to stop quitting. To work through the hard stuff. I try to get Sam to understand how I feel. “That study abroad program—the one I should be part of—isn’t about giving a man a fish or teaching a man to fish. And there’s no talk of a contaminated river, because people like you own the river and the fish—”

“What are you talking about? I don’t own anything!” Sam’s eyes well up with tears. “I don’t like what you’re saying, Jade. I’ve been nothing but a friend to you. Why can’t you be happy for me? Just this once. All the times you’ve come to me bragging about everything you get to do with Maxine? I’ve always been happy for you.”

“Bragging? You think I was bragging? I was just doing what friends do: sharing about my day, sharing my life with you—”

“And I want to be able to share this with you, but how can I when you’re moping around and making me feel guilty? I’m sorry you’re not going, Jade. I want you to be there, but I can’t change that. What do you want from me?”

Before I even answer, Sam’s tears are falling, like she already knows she won’t be able to give me whatever it is I’m about to ask for, and so now tears are tangled in my throat. “Sometimes, Sam, I just want you to listen. Anytime I bring up feeling like I’m being treated unfairly because I’m a black girl, you downplay it or make excuses. You never admit it’s about race.”

“I—I don’t think it always is,” Sam says.

“Of course you don’t,” I say. “You know nothing about being nominated into programs that want to fix you.”