On the Come Up(56)

“‘You can’t stop me, nope, nope!’” Curtis yells. “‘You can’t stop me, nope, nope!’”

The chant shifts to that.

I have a moment. Of all the places and times to have one, I do. See, those words started in my head. Mine. Conceived from my thoughts and my feelings. Birthed through my pencil and onto my notepad. Somehow, they’ve found their way to my classmates’ tongues. I think they’re saying them for themselves, yeah, but I know they’re saying them for me.

That’s enough to make me say them, too.

“‘You can’t stop me, nope, nope,’” I yell. “‘You can’t stop me, nope, nope!’”

It’s hard to say this is a protest. So many of my classmates who look like me are rocking to a beat that’s not even playing. They’re jumping around, bouncing, dancing. Locs and braids shake, feet won’t stay still. There are ayes and yahs mixed in, upping the hype. It’s different from what happened in the Ring parking lot. That was a mini concert. This is a call to war.

“‘You can’t stop me, nope, nope! You can’t stop me, nope, nope!’”

Long and Tate appear in the doors. Long has a bullhorn.

“All students must report to class,” he says. “If you do not, you risk suspension.”

“‘Run up on me and get done up!’” someone yells out.

That becomes the new chant, and it’s definitely a warning.

“‘Run up on me and get done up! Run up on me and get done up! Run up on me and get done up!’”

“This is your final warning,” Long says. “If you do not disperse, you will—”

It happens so fast.

A fist connects with Long’s jaw. The bullhorn flies from his hand.

Suddenly, it’s as if that punch was the green light some students were waiting for. A cluster of boys charge Long and Tate, taking them to the ground. Curtis is one of them. Fists fly and feet kick.

“Oh, shit!” Sonny says.

“We need to go!” says Malik.

He grabs my hand, but I tug away and rush forward.

“Curtis!”

He stops kicking and whirls around toward me.

“Cops!” I say.

That one word is enough. I bet everything that the police are en route. Curtis hurries over to me, and we run with Sonny, Malik, and Shana. Sirens wail nearby, and the chants behind us are replaced with screams and shouts.

We run until we can’t hear them. When we do stop, it’s so we can catch our breath.

“This is bad,” Sonny says, bent over. “Holy shit, this is bad.”

Malik marches up to Curtis and shoves him so hard, Curtis’s hat flies off. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Curtis catches himself midstumble and shoves Malik right back. “Man, get your hands off me!”

“You started a riot!” Malik screams in his face. “You realize what you’ve done?”

“Hey!” I push Malik away from Curtis. “Stop it!”

“Oh, you’re on his side now?” Malik yells.

“Side? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I guess it’s fine ’cause he was chanting your song! Forget the fact he incited a riot!”

“It’s not his fault somebody threw a punch!”

“Why the fuck are you sticking up for him?”

“Malik!” Shana says.

Sonny snatches him back. “Bruh, what the hell? Chill!”

A patrol car zooms by.

“If we don’t get outta here, the next cop might stop and question us,” Sonny says.

Malik’s glare is set on Curtis. “We can go to my house. My mom should be at work by now.”

Another patrol car races toward the school, lights flashing.

“C’mon,” Sonny says.

Shana tugs at Malik’s hand. That’s the only thing that makes him stop glaring at Curtis. He lets her pull him down the sidewalk.

In less than an hour, almost every black and Latinx student from Midtown shows up at Malik’s.

He and Shana got word out to their coalition to come over for an emergency meeting. One after another, they bring details of what happened after we ran off. At least ten cop cars arrived, a news van showed up, and the boys who jumped Long and Tate were arrested. One of them was Zane.

Curtis glances at me when we’re told that. I just mouth, You’re welcome.

Long and Tate were both loaded into ambulances. Nobody knows how bad either of them are.

Parents and guardians received a recorded message from the school saying that there was an emergency and that they must come get their children. Jay thought there was a shooting and immediately called me. She calmed down once I told her I’m fine. I gave her a quick rundown of what really happened, specifically the part about Long and Tate being back. She was pissed but not surprised.

Everyone sits and stands around Malik’s living room, eating sandwiches and chips and drinking just about every soda Aunt ’Chelle has. Sonny, Curtis, and I made room on the couch for three other people. Shana’s on Aunt ’Chelle’s recliner with a girl sitting on each arm.

Malik won’t stay still. He paces the living room, the way he used to do when a mission on a video game wasn’t going his way.