This Is My America(26)

“Pretty much everybody Black’s got Jamal on their mind. They better find Jamal and clear things up soon, or by the end of the year there’s gonna be a riot.”

“Anyone seen Jamal? Know what he was doing out by the Pike?”

“Last people saw him at school was Tuesday. Rumors are flying, though, that he looked upset, but people thought it was because of the Susan Touric interview.”

“Great.” I shake my head.

“I did hear it going around Jamal was talking to Angela Tuesday morning.”

“I skipped class and spoke with Angela that morning, too.” I flash to our conversation. “Angela wanted me to work with her on some exposé. I was supposed to meet her first thing Wednesday.”

“Damn. Really? Maybe she got herself killed.”

“Over what, a school scandal? Rigged student council elections?” I tighten my face after I say it. Reality sets in. She’s gone now.



“I don’t know,” Tasha says. “It’s messed up.”

“Really messed up, and to make it worse, the cops believe Jamal did it, but he’s running, can’t defend himself.”

“Somebody knows something,” Tasha says. “If she was out by the Pike, there’s gotta be witnesses.”

“On a Tuesday night? Who knows what they were doing out there?”

I hold in my worry that Jamal and Angela chose that night because it’d be isolated and they could hook up. Jamal’s only witness could be whoever killed Angela. Him admitting to messing around with a white girl in the middle of nowhere isn’t going to be much of a defense. The Pike has the reputation for being the underage party spot on weekends, but Black and Latinx folks don’t hang out there. Lots of drinking and white boys with big trucks off-roading in the dried-out marshes. I can’t imagine Jamal even being caught out there. I just can’t see it.

“What about Quincy?” I ask. “You see him?”

“His fine ass wasn’t at school.”

“Wait, he was out?”

“Trust, I looked.”

“I saw Chris at the police station, too, so he was out of school on Wednesday. What about the rest of the week, or his boys?”

“Haven’t seen him. I heard people talking about how he was all sad. That he witnessed what happened. Scott and Justin were at school, mourning Angela like everybody else. I’ll admit, school’s been depressing as hell.”



“The news hasn’t said anything about Chris. I wonder what that’s all about.”

“Maybe they think he’d be in danger. If he said he was a witness and all.”

I shake my head. I have no idea.

“What the police been saying?”

I go over everything I know. But I hold my tongue about the blood and the fact that Jamal was messing with Angela. I love Tasha, but sometimes she can slice you with her words. Cut people off without giving them the benefit of the doubt. She’s already hot with her dad; I don’t know if she’ll give Jamal the grace. So I keep it to myself for now.





PAST IS ALWAYS PRESENT


Quincy knows something. That’d explain why Quincy was short with me on the phone, and why he didn’t go to school the rest of the week. If Jamal was in trouble, Quincy wouldn’t turn him away. Any other situation, Quincy’d be hollering back real quick. My cheeks blush at the thought. He’d hit me with his usual jokes about if I’m finally giving in or that he knew I wanted him all these years. I’d hide a change in expression, but inside I’d be squirming because Quincy is easy on the eyes.

When I pull up to Quincy’s place, his Impala is nowhere in sight. I pause, unsure if I should get out. Quincy’s mama opens the door, hand on her hip. Her lips sealed tight. I want to vanish, but I make my way to her.

“For a second I thought Jamal was driving with you.” Mrs. Ridges’s expression relaxes, her hair with purple tips framing her face.



“Is…” I pause. Unsure what exactly I’m supposed to say to her. “Quincy home?”

“He gone. What you need with my boy?”

She’s lost a lot. I know she blames Daddy for mixing up Jackson in his business. We hadn’t lived in Crowning Heights long before we met the Ridges family. She can’t blame us for what happened to the Davidsons. And Jamal’s been a good influence on Quincy; that’s why Mrs. Ridges took to him. But by the way she’s staring at me, all that’s lost. Every time Mama sees her, hurt floats in Mama’s eyes. There’s a longing for a friendship that ended the day the police killed Jackson. I don’t think Mama and Mrs. Ridges stopped caring for each other. But when you lose someone, and an entire town thinks your spouses were guilty, it does something to your friendship. Being close reminds you what’s missing.

“Jamal, that you?” Malcolm, Quincy’s younger brother, comes strolling to the door, disappointed when he sees it’s just me.

I’m taken aback—Malcolm’s about my height now. He’s wearing a washed-out track shirt that used to be Jamal’s. My throat closes because Jamal was always hooking up Malcolm with gear. Jamal wasn’t just watching out for Corinne and me.

“You coming in?” Malcolm asks.

“She was looking for Quincy, but I told her he ain’t here. I got to get to work, so come on now.”