This Is My America(40)

Then there’s Jamal’s friends. Quincy at least fessed up to seeing Jamal. But Cuddy and Demarcus on the track team have been silent. Claim they know nothing. That can’t be true. They had to at least know about Jamal and Angela.



I make my entrance through the west gate, my new escape into school. I’m also hoping to catch Cuddy and Demarcus coming in from early track practice. I’ve got my Know Your Rights workshop flyers in hand as a way to start a conversation.

I smile when I see Quincy waiting on the other side of the gate.

“How’d you know I’d be coming through this door?” I ask Quincy.

“How do you know I’m waiting for you?” His eyes twinkle when he gives a side grin.

“Tell me you’re not?”

“Hey, I gotta make sure you get into school safely. I’m a gentleman.”

“Ha!” I playfully punch his arm. “I was planning on talking to Cuddy and Demarcus, but I’m glad you’re here. Do you know anything about an exposé Angela was working on, maybe with Jamal, leading up to the Susan Touric interview?”

“Susan Touric’s show?” Quincy’s voice goes flat. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

I trust Quincy won’t betray Jamal, so I tell him everything I found on Angela’s phone.

“He…he was looking into some stuff. I don’t wanna say.” Quincy looks over his shoulder, his hands shoved in his light hoodie.

“What about Chris? Angela was texting Jamal about getting information from him leading up to Jamal’s interview. The day she died was the same day she planned to end it with Chris. I saw him at the station with a black eye. Did Jamal get into it with him because he knew what happened to Angela?”



“Stay away from Chris. He’ll get Daddy Sheriff on you and won’t think twice about making your life hell. School’s already hard enough.”

“What do you think they were working on?”

“If I say something, you’re going to go looking, and that means trouble for you.”

“Why?”

“Because Angela was curious. Now there ain’t no Angela.” He looks away and blows out a breath, then catches my gaze. “I don’t want you getting in over your head. Talk to Jamal.”

“He’s not saying much on text. You gotta tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know nothing. Anyway, I’m not gonna speculate. Then if it turns out to be something and you get into it, it’d be on my conscience. You’re gonna have to be mad at me. If I say anything, your head gon’ start spinning, then the world gon’ spin, then there ain’t no stopping it. If Jamal ain’t answering, go look for him. He can’t be far.”

“I’m not stopping looking for Jamal. I’m going to get the truth.”

Quincy kicks at the ground. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”



“No.” I feel him wearing down.

“I really don’t know much.”

“She wrote a note about going to ‘the underground.’ Also about having Jamal keep a memory card at Herron Media for her. You know about this?”

“You ask him?”

“Waiting until ten, but if I don’t hear from him, I’m checking there.”

“How? You think you gonna waltz in there? Don’t even know where to look.”

“You do?”

“Nah. I don’t work there no more. Can’t get in without getting turned away because of Jamal.”

“Did you try?” I study Quincy.

He looks away. “Jamal asked for it, so I been working on that.”

“What…wh-what else did he say?” I stammer.

“That’s it.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s truth. Jamal’s paranoid. He’s not talking over text. Just locations for me to drop off food. Clothes. And he asked if I could get into Herron. Look for a memory card.”

My eyebrows scrunch, trying to hold in how pissed I am.

“Don’t look at me like that. I gave you the phone. Ask Jamal.”

The bell rings and Quincy starts walking to the breezeway, but I stay.

“What are you doing?”



“You can go on without me,” I say. “I’m waiting to talk to Cuddy and Demarcus.”

“Guess I’m staying, then.”

“Thought you were rushing off to first period. Get your education on.” I flutter my eyelashes at him.

“If you’re gonna start interrogating the senior class, I gotta at least supervise.”

“Interrogating? I’m just asking questions.”

“I’ve never known you to do anything delicately.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“I just mean you get shit done. Besides, Cuddy and Demarcus won’t tell you jack unless I seem cool with it.”

“So, they know something?” I watch Cuddy and Demarcus as they end practice and make their way toward Quincy.

“Here you go. I don’t know what they know. And you know what they say, snitches get—”

“Stitches. Yeah. I know the rules. Do you, though? Aka, older sister who’s a cop.”