My Monticello(10)

Mateo flashed a fresh bag of Takis and we thrust out eager palms. C’mon, you know you got more than enough! Afterward, we licked burning spice from our fingers. We shredded the bag, tucking foil around our front teeth, like the silvery grills our Uncles wore. Afterward, on the playground, we waved bye to Latrell, who’d caught one swaying braid in a joint of the far metal dome like he was straight-up stuck in the jailhouse. We gasped for air along with Aaliyah, who’d fallen so hard from the squeaky swing it knocked all hope for air from her lungs. She flopped on her back on the mulch near the fence with Khaliah wailing, Breathe, girl! Breathe!

That was the day Melvin Moses Green motioned us to the half-hidden place by the bushes. He paced up and down our ragged line, his back flagpole straight beneath the no-name dull green jersey he wore. Y’all soldiers, right? Moses sang, and we wanted to answer him, Amen! Instead, we pulled our shoulders back, let the sun rain fire on our heads. Moses thrust his ropey arms toward us, then brought them in quickly across his chest like an X or a shield. Y’all warriors, right? Moses roared, his voice charged and ticking like something that would go off soon.

Right! we answered, our voices high and tight in our throats.

When we answered Moses, we thought of the mud-streaked commandos we watched late night in the TV room when we couldn’t fall asleep. We thought of our older Cousins, grown boys teamed up on corners, who had restless, jumpy hands. Crossing our pencil arms at our scrawny chests, we thought of dopey Richard saluting the flag at Pledge. Sweat dampened our chests. We plucked the collars of our T-shirts, trying to stir a breeze.

When I give that signal, Moses said, you boys know what to do.

We nodded like we knew.



* * *



After Recess, we had Art or Gym or Music. As we filed back inside, we found out we had Library that day. The Library Teacher hovered at the top of the stairs, her face round and ruddy, her hands gripping the rail. Most of you did not bring your books back, she called down as we slowly trudged up to her. If you don’t return books, you may not check out new ones today.

She told us to sit around the browsing tables and stay “absolutely silent.”

We scattered toward to the low round tables, the air conditioner churning. Sweat cooled on our necks and faces. Quiet bounced around in our heads. Waiting, we wondered where Moses had gone off to. And was it true that Richard had eaten only one meal a day, back in his home country, like he’d claimed when he first showed up at our class? And was Cherida messing with us when she told us the Nurse always gave her something sweet? Graham crackers or a juice box. A palmful of red Jolly Ranchers. Cherida swore, if she waited too long, her hands would get to shaking. Her head would throb and she’d have to lie down for a good long while. Sometimes she got so hungry, she told us, that nothing in the world could satisfy her. Once, when her Ma was still alive, Cherida’d been rushed to the hospital, as if that deep hunger hoped to take her to some far-off place.

The quiet and wonder echoed around us. We offered up small sounds to fill it. We drew our heads together and whispered. We snatched at tattered magazine pages.

Zip it, the Library Teacher said.

We kept on talking, our voices low.

Lord Richard must’ve brought his books back or else they’d made an exception. He circled the library, running his hands along the edges of books he’d probably already read. Zip it, zip it, he mumbled into the air.

We got to humming then. At first there was one lone hummer, then everybody’s throats filled with that bare vibration. Even the girls hummed. Even Cherida, from under pale pink bows. The humming became that song we all knew—it played night and day on the radio. We worked all together, our muffled anthem moving through that wide-open space. Our tongues trembled, but we held our jaws Absolutely Still. The Library Teacher couldn’t tell for sure who was humming. She lurched from table to table, shushing us.

Somebody coughed and we all coughed: Who were we to resist the tickling dryness that rose in our throats?

Zip it! I mean it! she said.

How you gonna get us in trouble for coughing? Fat Rod’ney countered, and everybody laughed.

As we laughed and coughed and hummed, the Library Teacher crossed the room to get to her checkout computer. Behind her, Rod’ney’s face lit up.

That was when Rod’ney broke out singing. Belting out the actual words to the song we hummed. Rod’ney had a clear voice and each of us began to move to it. Even the few kids waiting in the line for checkout. Even the ones who’d been told it was their turn to browse the shelves.

Cut it out, Rod’ney! the Teacher ordered, her tongue catching on the d midway through his name, so that it sounded like some other name. When he didn’t stop, she hurried toward him, but Rod’ney ducked beneath the round table, popped out the other side still bellowing that song.

The Library Teacher’s mouth fell open. She glared at all of us, but no words poured out.

Just then, Melvin Moses Green walked back in from wherever he’d gone off to. Right away, he began to rock to the rhythm of our song. Moses jumped on top of the nearest table, did a couple moves from the video. The table jumped and rippled beneath him, but Moses rode the wave. We could not help but cheer.

That’s exactly when the Library Teacher truly helped us fill the shaky, broken quiet. Red-faced, eyes popping, she turned so everybody could see. DON’T SHOUT! she shouted. Stop shouting or else! You all are so bad! You all are in so much trouble!