Tyler Johnson Was Here(48)

I change into a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, and then I text G-mo and Ivy, inviting them over, and within minutes, like the world’s best friends, they come climbing through my window like they used to, all wet and alert, unsettled looks on their faces.

“’Sup, Marv?” Ivy says, climbing through first, clenching her skateboard under her arm.

“Yo, hey, Marv.” G-mo pats my shoulder. “Everything all right?”

And I just plop down on the edge of my bed, not answering, looking at his Slytherin tank top.

And then Ivy diverts things, saying, “Can you believe someone just tried to steal my skateboard and G’s bike? In the pouring goddamn rain. Like, what the fuck, bro?!”

I look up, feeling hollowed out, and I mumble, slightly shaken, “What happened?”

“We scared ’em away,” G-mo answers. “Straight up, yo, fists up ready to bump and everything.”

Ivy rolls her eyes, a smirk easing onto her face. “Something like that. More like we just pedaled and skated faster down the block.” She pauses and then walks over and sits down beside me.

“Whoa” is all that comes out. I sigh.

“How’re you feeling, Marv?” Ivy asks.

“I have this horrible, horrible feeling in my gut, like I’m trapped in some goddamn fucked-up movie,” I say, brushing my clammy hands against my pants. “My brother’s a fucking hashtag. Everybody thinks he was a thug.”

I want to fuck something up. Punch someone. Blow up something.

G-mo sits next to me now and wraps his arm around the back of my neck, like old times. “Yo. I’m down to go fuck some shit up,” G-mo says. “I fucking hate white people, and man, fuck the police!”

“Nigga, that’s racist!”

“You can’t be racist if you’re a minority,” G-mo argues. “Prejudiced? Yes. But not racist. We ain’t got the power in this society to be racist. And they want war!”

“Fool, the war started a long time ago,” Ivy says. “It ain’t even black against white, bro,” she continues calmly, using her hands to punctuate her words. “It’s about racists against everyone else, and they’re clownin’ out.”

G-mo sighs and falls back on the bed.

“It’s like Tupac said: Everybody’s at war,” Ivy adds as she jumps up and stands straight. “Why you think he had a whole album about that shit?”

“Yo. You right, you right,” G-mo goes.

Mama’s in the kitchen, pots and pans rattling together in a cacophonous symphony. I sit still, thinking Ivy’s right. It’s about the hate some people have within them. Hate is too ugly of a devil for some people to acknowledge, but the thing about hate is you can’t throw it on someone else without getting a little bit on yourself. And I wonder if people will ever fucking understand that.





? 24 ?


The next morning, the news channels continue their reports on Tyler.

The camera zooms in on a news reporter’s pale face. “The victim’s father, Jamal Johnson, is in Montgomery Correctional Facility for possession of illegal narcotics and capital murder.”

My fists ball up. There’s something about being reminded of this—the truth—in such a painful way that just kills what little feeling I have left in me. For so long, I felt that the way out of my own suffering was to pretend it didn’t exist—to put a blindfold on to the whole white world thing that Mama kept warning me about. But this has done so much damage—damage that I can’t even really see. Maybe we don’t see until it’s too late, but I’m seeing that just because the world shits on you doesn’t mean you fucking deserve it.

The reporter begins interviewing an older black dude with gray hair and a poufy mustache. I recognize him immediately from all the research, from looking at his website over and over again, watching for updates on the protest he’s planning for Tyler. His name flashes across the screen. Albert Sharp.

“What do you think of the case?” the reporter woman asks.

Mr. Sharp scratches his eyebrow before answering. “It’s truly saddening what our country is facing,” he says, his voice moving like molasses.

“Care to explain?” the news reporter says into a microphone.

“Well, you know, for many years, our country has faced severe racial tension, discrimination, prejudice, and violence on all levels. We’ve heard of many cases like this one with Tyler Johnson, where unarmed black teenagers are brutalized by the police. We need to stand up as a community, as a nation, as a people, and combat this issue.”

“So, what do you think will happen now?” the reporter asks.

“Communities, I hope, will gather and show their respect first and foremost, but I believe there is definitely a divide in our area. And I also strongly believe that it’s up to everyone, regardless of race, to heal that divide and come together to fight police brutality.”

“Thank you for your time.”

I sit close to Mama on our small slashed-up couch, feeling numb all over. And it’s in this moment that I start to feel sorry for myself again, and I’m not sure if that’s at all what I’m supposed to be feeling, but it’s consuming.





? 25 ?