Watch Us Rise(23)
“My dad’s in the hospital,” Jasmine says. “He has cancer. Stage four.”
“I’m so sorry, Jasmine. I had no idea you were dealing with that. What can we do? How can we help?”
Jasmine shrugs. “There’s nothing anyone can do right now.” We are quiet, and I really want to think of something to say. Jasmine beats me to it. “On a positive note, the blog is blowing up,” she says, and we all start to laugh.
“It is?” Ms. Lucas asks. “After just one post? What did you write? I didn’t even read it before you posted it,” she says, sounding concerned.
“Oh, it’s just your average takedown of Hollywood’s extremely superficial and stereotypical roles black women are assigned in the movie industrial complex that is basically ruining our lives,” I explain. “She also called out the August Wilson Acting Ensemble, which was named after a prominent social justice playwright, who is black, I might add.”
“We know that, Chelsea,” Jasmine says.
“Yeah, I know we know that. I’m just saying it out loud, okay, because it seems like most of the people in the acting ensemble . . . ? I’m sorry, the August Wilson Acting Ensemble, don’t seem to understand that.”
“Yeah,” Jasmine cuts in. She tells Ms. Lucas everything that happened. “That’s the story we didn’t get into yesterday when we told you we wanted to start our own club. He basically wants me to act the stereotype, which is just . . . it’s just wrong,” she says.
Ms. Lucas and I both look up.
“I’m done. I’m totally and completely done,” Jasmine says. “I’m tired of being invisible to people who only want to make me visible for specific roles. I’m not playing anyone’s parts or ideas of me anymore. And I’m going to say what I need, and I’m gonna start saying what I want too. I gotta get ready for class. Let’s talk more later?” Jasmine asks.
“Sure,” I say. “So you’re gonna see James this morning?” I ask, a little too casually, mad at myself for even bringing his name up again.
“Of course I’m going to see James, Chelsea. I’m gonna see him every morning in the same class that we’re gonna have together all year—every day.”
“I know, I know, I was just confirming that you’ll be seeing him,” I respond. “Maybe you should remind him that Meg sucks, and that your awesome friend Chelsea is unique and kind of quirky . . . ?and hot . . . ?say I’m hot too. And remind him that Meg sucks,” I add again, stumbling over my words.
“Yeah, maybe I will. I’m going to tell him he needs to get his act together and drop Meg and her punk ways,” Jasmine says. “I’m going to tell him exactly how I feel. I think I might even tell him how you feel,” she says, standing up and packing her bags.
This is a new Jasmine.
“I’m going to start telling people the way it is.” She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, waves to Ms. Lucas who has been staring at us wide-mouthed for the last few minutes, and walks out.
I don’t even have time to say, “Hey, maybe don’t tell James I’m into him because I’m trying to play it cool,” and then I think, I’ve never played it cool, so whatever.
By lunchtime, the school is humming. I rush through the cheeseburger line, which is the fastest line because it’s also referred to as the barf line (though I’ve never actually barfed from the burger). I go to our normal table and pull out my phone. I’ve been dying to refresh all morning long, and I see that the number is 452. Four hundred and fifty-two people have read the blog, or at least they’ve clicked on long enough to see Jasmine’s perfect title, and if they saw that, I know they had to read on.
“Hey, I saw the new Write Like a Girl blog. That piece Jasmine wrote was soooo good,” Isaac says, crashing into me with his tray. He has opted for the taco boat, piled so high the cheese is tumbling into his applesauce, which, I have to say, looks a lot more appetizing than my meal.
“Uh, yeah, your girl raised the bar about a trillion degrees,” I say, stealing a sliver of cheddar from his tray.
“That doesn’t even make sense, degrees, trillion . . . ?anyway, she’s not my girl,” Isaac says.
“Well, I don’t know about that. I heard about the scene, you know . . . the love scene.” I bust out laughing.
“What do you mean? What did you hear?”
“Ah, you’re curious, huh? I mean, I heard you went full-on relationship in the scene. You, too, raised the bar about a gazillion levels.”
He starts to laugh with me this time. “I did, I totally did.” He high-fives me, which tells me he’s as proud of himself as I am of him. I’ve always seen Isaac as my brother. How amazing would it be if Isaac and Jasmine actually started dating?
“A lot of good it did, since Jasmine quit the ensemble. I feel like I have you to thank for that,” Isaac says.
“Uh, I think you have Mr. Morrison to thank for that. He’s the one that lost his mind in class, which in retrospect was perfect, because now we have our own club. Ha!” I say.
“Well, if that first post is any indication of what’s to come, I think y’all have some good ideas, and a whole bunch of people are talking about it.”
I hear a voice say, “Congrats on your new club.” I swivel around in my seat. It’s James. He’s standing behind me with his tray in one hand and a basketball tucked inside his other arm. It’s such a cliché, and I’m falling right into it. “Hey, man,” James says to Isaac. They both nod.