What's Mine and Yours(36)

“My husband wanted the best for our son. We’ve spent our lives trying to figure out how to give it to him. We haven’t had our lives handed to us, like some of the people in this room. For a lot of you, your kids coming to this school is just them inheriting what’s rightfully theirs—the future they’ve been headed toward since they were born. But for my son, it’s a change in his fate. And his fate has been changed more than once, and not for the better, and none of that was his fault.”

Gee felt himself shrink.

“And now that he’s got this chance, we’re not going to let anyone take it from him. He’s not going to be left behind. And I’m going to be here, every morning, and every afternoon, to make sure he’s welcomed the way he ought to be, the way the law says he deserves. Put in your metal detectors. Put your cameras in the parking lot. Let me tell you—you’ll be seeing my face.”

There was whooping and hollering as Jade returned to her seat. Gee felt his anger focus on his mother. She slid into the seat beside him, and he crossed his arms away from her.

“What did I do now?” she asked, and he wondered whether there was a point in being honest.

“I just want to fit in, and you’re talking like you’re ready to go to war.”

“Do you hear these other parents?”

“I don’t care about them. What about me? I don’t want any trouble.”

Jade shook her head. “These people are just talking cause there’s nothing else they can do. You’ll see. You just got to let them know they can’t take you for a punk, that you’ll fight back—”

A shrill voice startled them. Someone at the back of the room was speaking right to Jade.

“To the young woman who just finished up here—”

A fair, slender woman stood at the microphone, her hair large and feathered around her.

“How dare you say anything in my life has been handed to me! If your husband wanted the best for your son, he should have done what I did and moved him into this district fair and square. I made sacrifices to get here. It cost me. It cost my children. And I’m not just going to give it up so you can get handed what you think you deserve—that’s not right, and that’s not American.”

The applause that erupted into the auditorium was the most riotous yet. People stomped and rose in their seats. The principal banged her gavel uselessly. The large-haired woman went on, and Gee couldn’t bring himself to look away from her narrow face, the bright aperture of her eyes.

“There’s a bunch of us,” she said. “We’re putting together a march! And we’re not going to stop there. The school year hasn’t started yet. We’ve got time. I’ll be standing right back here with flyers for anyone else who wants to get involved. Come find me. My name is Lacey May Gibbs.”



After the town hall, Gee rode back with Linette. He could see Jade’s headlights shining through the rear of the car as she followed them down the road. He wondered whether she was headed home with them, too, or if she’d turn off somewhere, and go wherever it was she went when she wasn’t working or at home. She never announced when she’d be leaving; she just left. There were hours where neither he nor Linette could account for Jade. He couldn’t say either of them missed her much. When she was home, she just listened to music on her headphones in her bedroom, or drank whiskey-and-coke and read her medical books. So far, she was still trailing them, and Gee wished she’d signal, disappear around a bend.

“Are you punishing your mama by riding home with me?” Linette peered at Gee from the corner of her eye. “You don’t like it when she speaks up. Even if she’s doing it for you.”

“She just loves being right. You know that.”

“She was speaking from the heart.”

“She said they were married. She was talking about him like he’s still alive.”

“Maybe that’s how she sees it,” Linette said. “Maybe that’s all true to her.”

Gee rolled his eyes.

“Your mother’s come a long way. You know, you could have turned out lots of different ways after what happened. But look at you. She stepped up. She spared you.”

Gee didn’t like when Linette talked this way, as if he were some project of his mother’s, and all the credit for who he was could be given to her. As if, without her, he was a tragedy, a boy destined for a lifetime of nothing.

He rubbed his jaw where he was sore. His teeth seemed to be vibrating; he could still feel the pressure of them sliding together even when he stopped.

“I could hear you, you know, in the auditorium. Grinding those teeth. If you’re not careful, you’ll crack another.”

“I can’t control it, Linette.”

“Have you tried? You can’t let people bother you so much, Gee. I don’t need to tell you what it might be like for you at this school. You were there. You heard them.”

Linette and Jade were always telling him how hard his life would be, like he could ever forget.

“Those were just the parents,” he said.

“You think teenagers are going to be much better?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Fine. Adira was looking cute today.”

“Oh God, Linette. Please. I don’t want to talk about girls.”