This Is My America(18)

“I said, get your boy,” the sheriff says.

A few more officers draw in closer to the door, like they’re about to rush our entryway.

“Almost done,” I say. “It’s our right to verify a warrant.”

I wonder what it’s like to be someone who’d feel safe in their presence. I try to trick my mind, pretend we called them. It helps me settle more, and I give Mama a squeeze, hoping I can do the same for her. But it doesn’t last long, because the word boy keeps running in my head. A bitter taste flushes in my mouth, the way that word drawls out like just another slur in coded language.



The officers, guns drawn, spread to each entrance of the house.

Mama’s struck with fear, with grief, and it’s like she gave them permission from that moment and it didn’t matter I was planning on reading this warrant over a thousand times. Mama removes the chain lock and opens the door wider. They flood past us, scattering through the house and up the stairs before she can say she’ll bring Jamal down.

As they make their way upstairs, I pray that God led Jamal into the woods and he is doing what he knows best, using his God-given legs to run.





RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT


Mama wraps her arms around us as they search our home. Sheriff Brighton stays back, making sure we don’t touch anything.

“Where is he?” the sheriff asks.

“I have no idea,” Mama says. “I’d be able to help if I knew why you’re here.”

“If you know anything about his whereabouts, you should get him in here before—”

“Before what?” I breathe out heavy, angry.

“What exactly do you want my son for?” Mama tugs my arm back to take over the conversation.

“You’ll hear soon enough, but right now I’m going to ask you to get your daughter in line and bring your boy in.”

“I’ll bring my son in. Don’t worry about that.”



A Black officer tentatively steps inside. Relief shoots through me. It’s Beverly Ridges, Quincy’s older sister. Right after playing college basketball, she went to the police academy. Since joining the force, she’s kept her hair cropped short, so it takes me a second to recognize her. But everything else is the same, tall and fit.

Beverly looks at us, then up the stairs to Jamal’s room. She’s been in our house a dozen other times with Quincy. She’s Jamal’s oldest crush. Her senior year, she took Jamal to a dance because her date flaked on her. It was totally innocent, but as a freshman, Jamal couldn’t hide his crush on her. He’s always tried to play it off, but he loses all swagger around her.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Beverly says.

I can’t tell if she’s talking to Sheriff Brighton or us.

“We’re done here,” Sheriff Brighton answers. “Going to place an officer on-site in case he comes home.”

“I can take a shift,” Beverly says. “My mother’s house is on this side of town. Should be convenient enough.”

“I’m aware.” Sheriff Brighton quickly dismisses her.

He leaves the house, officers trailing behind. My shoulders settle once they’re finally gone.

“Mrs. Beaumont.” Beverly’s hands are clasped loosely behind her back.

Mama releases a soft smile before her eyes go dull again.

I know Jamal would feel some type of way that Bev is out here looking for him. We were all shocked when we heard Bev wanted to be on the same force that ruined our lives. Killed her dad.



“Why don’tcha put Corinne to bed, Tracy?” Mama asks.

“I wanna wait up for Jamal.” Corinne rubs at her eyes.

“He won’t be coming back tonight.” I put my arm around her, directing her to bed.

When I come downstairs, I catch Beverly telling Mama why they’re after Jamal.

“They found Angela Herron.” Beverly has a grim twist to her mouth. “Dead by the Pike.”

Nausea rolls through my body.

“Did you say dead?” I have to confirm.

Beverly nods, and my hand cups my mouth in shock. I’m stuck for a moment, eyes welling—I just saw Angela earlier today. Then I recall the blood on Jamal and the scratch on his neck. Fear wraps itself around my body because I don’t know what this means for Jamal.

“Oh my God.” Mama’s posture stiffens. “What happened?”

“She was murdered.”

My throat begins to ache. How is it possible Angela is gone?

“That’s terrible,” Mama says. “But what’s that got to do with my Jamal?”

“Before she died, she called 911. The operator heard Angela cry out Jamal’s name.”

The pieces start pulling together, and I have to hold my thoughts back to keep from screaming them out loud. Jamal and Angela were hooking up today, and before I left him at Herron Media, he wanted me to cover for his late night, something out of the ordinary. Then I think about the blood swirling down the drain, and it hits me. Angela’s been dating Chris, but she was cheating on him with Jamal. Sheriff Brighton brought a whole crew of police to search for his son’s girlfriend’s supposed killer.



“There’s no way Jamal had anything to do with this,” Mama says. “We have to fix this.”