This Is My America(54)
“I don’t know who killed Angela.”
“But you don’t think it’s my brother.” I hold my breath, hoping she agrees.
“Jamal wouldn’t hurt Angela. I don’t think he’s the type to let anything ruffle his feathers. If she was arguing, it was always with Chris.”
My chest explodes in relief. If Angela’s own best friend doesn’t believe it, then maybe Jamal stands a chance.
“What was she working on?” I croak out. “I can help.”
“How can you help? You’re talking to me, which means you know nothing more than I do.”
“Angela had a micro SD card with photos from Tuesday nights at the Pike. Angela was out there on Tuesday—”
“You found them?” Mandy whispers, leaning toward me. I stay silent. I need Mandy to let something slip. “I couldn’t find them anywhere.”
“Was that why you were cleaning out her desk, putting things in a backpack?”
“If they knew you had them, you could be in danger, Tracy.” Mandy grabs my arm. “You have to stop looking around. Angela is dead because of those photos from the Pike.”
“I don’t get it. Why because of the photos?”
I don’t share that Beverly has them now.
“Not because of the photos—what she uncovered.”
“Who trashed the classroom?”
“I don’t know. Just that you didn’t. It’s not your style. But someone wanted to make it look like you did it. I just wasn’t going to let them get away with that.”
I give her a nod of thanks. “Who do you think killed Angela?”
“I don’t know.” Mandy looks away, toward her house.
Something catches her attention, and I hear shouts from inside. It jolts us both.
“What’s going on?” I jump off the swing.
“I wish they’d all just leave.” Mandy shakes her head. “My parents wanted me to have this more than I did. They think it will distract me.”
The noise gets louder. Yelling, cursing. We run across her yard and into the house, following the sounds of the fight. The crowd is gathered in the living room. As I get closer, I see Cuddy and Demarcus shoving guys out of the way. The crowd chants, “Fight. Fight. Fight.”
I touch my face when I see Quincy pinned in a corner with Scott.
I step closer to the chaos.
CRASH AND BURN
Quincy and Scott are shoving each other, throwing punches when they can reach. With each movement, Quincy is off balance, but so is Scott, since he’s clearly drunk. Dean cuts past me, and some of Scott’s friends think he’s there to help Scott, but he’s not. He pushes Scott off to give Quincy space.
Scott sees me, and the anger in his eyes makes me take a step back. He’s thin, but drunk he’s scrappy and doesn’t seem to mind the punches from Quincy. Like he’s numb to the pain he’ll feel tomorrow.
“Get the fuck out.” He charges at me. “You don’t belong here.”
I try to dip away, but the crowd is pressing in on me, shoving me back toward Scott. He rips at my arm, and I feel my socket pull. Then he’s yelling at me. My heart races, and I try to back up, but the crowd is locked up tight. Keeping my friends from being able to help me.
“We can’t get Jamal, so how about you pay?” Scott says low and deadly as he grips my arm.
My chin trembles, trying to form words, but all I can let out is a weird, throaty sound. I look back, hoping to spot an escape. A place to catch my breath and think. Far away from here.
Quincy frees up from the crowd and jumps at Scott. Cuddy and Demarcus join him. The mob finally opens up to avoid the blows. Chris makes his way through the crowd, my first time seeing him. Dean shoulders his way in front, blocking Chris from joining in.
“Cool it, man,” Dean says.
“Get the fuck out,” Chris says. “You people, get the fuck out. I’m calling the police.”
More track team members help Demarcus, me, and Quincy get out. People start trying to calm down the room, but my being here caused a ripple of tension across groups on different sides. I look to Mandy, who avoids eye contact. Only Black folks start exiting the party. A group of white guys circle, to make sure we don’t turn back.
Scott tugs on Chris’s arm, but he pulls back. They say a few words that don’t look friendly. Like they’ve been beefing, too.
On my way out, I whisper to Dean to stay. He’s torn, but he knows what’s up. People will be talking, and it could lead to more information.
On the steps, Tasha’s by my side, coming from nowhere. She must’ve been waiting outside.
“I was looking for you. Hoped you’d already left. That was stupid, Tracy.”
“I know.” But Tasha’s not fully mad, because she’s holding my hand, shaking as we rush to get away from the party.
“You okay?” Quincy reaches for me. Tasha drops my hand.
Quincy touches my face, then goes over my wrist that’ll surely bruise.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
I shake my head. “He’s not worth it.”
“I can take you home,” Quincy says.
I’m about to tell him I can ride with Tasha, until I realize he offered because Tasha’s leaving without me.