This Is My America(19)

“Where could Jamal be?” Beverly asks.

“This isn’t like Jamal to be out this late without letting me know,” Mama says.

I hold my tongue, wanting to trust Beverly with how strange Jamal was acting tonight. But then I’d have to admit that maybe he was involved, that I caught Jamal and Angela together. That Angela told me this morning she had an exposé she wanted to work on, and not to tell Jamal.

“Have you tried to reach him?” Beverly asks.

“No.” Mama looks away. “Not with all them police here.”

“Try his friends.” Beverly’s voice shakes. “It’s better you reach Jamal first and get him to turn himself in.”

I run up to grab my phone from my room and dial Jamal’s number. It rings and rings, then goes straight to voice mail after the third attempt. I send him frantic texts about what’s happening before I go back downstairs. Mama’s doing the same, so I step to the window to make a call.

I dial Quincy’s number. It goes to voice mail. He answers after my second attempt. “What’s the emergency?”

“Why didn’t you answer the first time?”



“I’m busy. You know how it is.”

A long pause sits between us as I wait to hear anything in the background. But there’s nothing.

“Tell me if you’ve heard from Jamal.”

“Jamal…Nah, I ain’t heard from him.”

“Quincy, I’m serious. The cops were all over the house.” I walk closer to the window so Beverly and Mama won’t hear. “Beverly’s here. I know Jamal was messing with Angela. The cops didn’t tell us, but Beverly told us they found Angela dead by the Pike.”

Quincy’s silent. He already knows.

“Quincy.”

“I heard you. I’ll tell him you called.”

The click of Quincy’s phone rings in my ear. Either he knows something, or he’s going to do his best to get ahold of Jamal.

If anyone would be sympathetic about why Jamal would want to run…it would be Quincy.

After the cops went to arrest Jackson Ridges for the Davidsons’ murder, there was a lot of talk about whether the cops had to kill him. They went in like they had no other option. I saw the way they approached our house with Jamal, with Daddy; it didn’t need to be like that. They didn’t have to kill Mr. Ridges.

My throat tightens, thinking about that time. The news coverage, the rallies. The things people said at school. Everyone in town talked about the shooting. The white community was quick to blame Daddy and Jackson for the Davidsons’ murders.



At school, kids were cruel. Recess was Justin Draper’s favorite time to corner me. Back then he was a pudgy white kid with a mullet. He’s outgrown the mullet now but still has the same jackass attitude and thick, square head. I used to find excuses to help the teachers so I wouldn’t have to go outside, but it didn’t always work. The trial was public, and everyone was talking about it. We got death threats at home, so Mama thought school was the safest place for us.

One day Justin circled me, calling me the N-word. He’d never get away with that if Quincy wasn’t still healing. If Quincy would’ve been there, he’d have handled it. Justin yelled at me and punched me in the stomach. I was down on the ground, my heart hurting more than anything else, and Dean came running at Justin like a linebacker. A fight broke out. That was the incident that pulled Dean and me closer with each day of Quincy’s absence. Quincy and I’ve been distant ever since the shooting. Jamal was able to hold on to him, but my path went elsewhere. I feel our old history in this call. Knowing he’d be the only one to get what this means, but also knowing we aren’t close no more.

When I turn around, Mama’s shaking. She can’t reach anyone who’s seen Jamal, either.

“How did Angela die?” I ask Beverly.

“Autopsy won’t be in yet, but it looks like a blunt force trauma to the head. She was found out on the Pike by the dried-up dock, near the old seafood-packing place.”



“The call doesn’t mean anything,” I say. “She could’ve been asking for help. That doesn’t prove Jamal was there.”

“He was there tonight. And…” Beverly pauses.

“And what?”

“I shouldn’t say. It might not be public.”

“Beverly, you know Jamal—could you see him do anything like this? You’ve seen him at his worst. Nothing riles him up. He’s never hurt me, even when I’d pick fights with him.”

“Jamal was seen fleeing the scene…and his letterman jacket was found by her body.”

My vision goes blurry, and I blink hard until it comes back. This can’t be happening to us again.

“Someone else could’ve been out there with them. What if Jamal’s injured, too?” There has to be a reason. He wouldn’t leave his jacket, and it could explain the blood. Was Jamal attacked? Did someone try to kill him?

“Witnesses identified your vehicle, Mrs. Beaumont. He made it back here. We haven’t been able to locate Angela’s phone yet, but that could help.”

“But if the 911 operator heard her call out for Jamal—”

“Y’all get some sleep. I’m sure we’ll know more tomorrow,” Beverly says. “Tomorrow I’ll do what I can to find Jamal; you do the same. Mrs. Beaumont, try to get more information from Sheriff Brighton so you’ll have legal counsel ready.”