This Is My America(33)

Quincy enters in a code, the gate unlocks, and I race through it.

He slams it shut, then takes my hand and leads me behind the school through the path toward the senior lockers. There’s a buzz behind us, followed by a series of camera clicks, but we’re beyond their reach.



Panting, I touch Quincy’s shoulder as he grips his hands on his knee. He bites on his lip; pain must be shooting through his body. This is what made track impossible for him, even if the coach said he could still train but not compete. The steel bolts keeping his left leg together just make it too hard.

“You okay?” I calm my breath, the fear fading away with him being here, even if he’s in pain.

“I’m good.” Quincy rubs his knee and walks back and forth, shaking his leg. “Just got locked up running. Haven’t moved that fast in a long time.”

“That was out of control. Thank you for helping. I wouldn’t be able to handle the cameras like that. I told Mama it’s too soon to go to school.”

“Come on. They can still see you.” Quincy takes my hand again, and my heart flutters. I look at him, shake my head because I didn’t expect that.

We walk past the lockers into a breezeway.

“If you go out that way, and back through those doors, you’ll find your way to your locker.”

“How do you even know this?” I ask, when our view is blocked from the corner.

“Skipping class. Gotta know the best route to move unseen.” Quincy turns to leave.

“Wait.”

Quincy pauses, and I hug him before he slips away. I fight back the ache in my body. I just needed to get into school today, and Quincy made that happen.



“Remember when this was my job? I forgot how physical it could get helping fight your battles.” Quincy chuckles, covering up the awkwardness.

“Justin’s always been an asshole, huh?” I say.

“You gonna be all right?” Quincy asks.

“I can’t do this every day. What am I supposed to do?” I let go of him.

“Don’t trip on the news. The kids at school. None of that matters. I stopped caring a long time ago.”

“What about Jamal?” Quincy’s guard is down. I can’t help but use this. “You heard from him again?”

“Nah. He’s a ghost now.” Quincy looks away. “Too dangerous. Jamal’s tough; he’ll figure it out.”

“If you see him…talk to him…tell him I get why he doesn’t talk to Mama, Corinne. But he’s gotta know I got his back. That I will fight to the death to free him.”

“He knows. He also knows you gotta keep your family together. You’re gonna be the key.”

“Right,” I say. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Quincy rubs his hands over his head, considering, then reaches into his backpack. He puts a small phone in my hand.

“Once a day he turns his burner on. Won’t answer a call, only text. Whatever you get, you delete. Whatever you send, you delete.”

I shuffle back a step, surprised. Quincy and Jamal have been in touch.



“Don’t make me regret giving that up.”

“When did you—”

“Jamal will seriously be pissed. Please do what I say.”

“How will you reach him? Get another phone?”

“Can’t risk it. Shoot, after this, I think your brother might write me off. Anyway, you know how to help him more than I do. Don’t waste his minutes. He can’t get a replacement or charge often. He turns it on at ten each morning.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

Quincy turns back around.

“Wait, where you going? Bell’s about to ring.”

“I’m not going. Came to make sure you got in safely. See, this knee be acting up, so I’m gonna need to make up my work at home.” Quincy grins.

“Two weeks, Quincy. Summer will be here soon enough. You can do it.”

Quincy steps back and points at me. “Stay in school, Tracy.” Then he jogs off toward the west gate.

When I reach my locker, I find Tasha waiting at hers for me.

“Where you coming from?” Tasha asks. “It’s a madhouse out there.”

“I came from the west gate, cut through the back hall. Media after me.” I keep to myself that I’ve got a way to reach Jamal.

“Damn,” Tasha says. “They should just close school for the rest of the year.”



“I wish,” I say. “I thought today would be hard, but not like this. All this media, you’d think they’d respect minors’ privacy.”

“You didn’t hear?” Tasha pauses. “There’s gonna be an assembly first and second period to memorialize Angela. They’re doing attendance in homeroom, then heading out in groups by class.”

My jaw drops. If I knew, I wouldn’t have come today. Maybe that’s what had Quincy ready to bounce; he was too loyal to want to hear slander about Jamal. He faced the same with his dad.

“I’m sure you can skip out. The office is open, and counselors are making themselves available.”

“All right.” I shut my locker. Tasha looks at her watch and I wave her off. She’s been struggling in science, and late attendance will knock her grade more.