My Monticello(11)

How you going tell us, Don’t shout, we said, when you the one shouting at all of us, right now?

The Library Teacher ignored our question and ran toward Moses instead. He still stood on his table, stomping and dancing and grinning. Get down! It isn’t safe, she pleaded, but Melvin Moses Green did not look pressed. You need to go to the office! she told him. Right! Now!

How you gonna call out Moses, we said, when everybody’s up and out they seats?

RIGHT! NOW! she shrieked, grabbing Moses by his arm, to pull him down or steady him. When she touched Moses, we all quit singing. Our voices dried up in our throats. When she touched him, he seemed to fracture and rise.

Moses flung his elbow free, jumping from the table so hard his feet slapped the floor. Arms swollen, he grabbed and flipped the table he’d been standing on. Then Moses charged right at that Teacher, his chest angled forward in that battered green jersey. His fists were balled but his ropey arm shot back behind his body. We could feel how badly he wanted to strike her. Instead he toppled the nearest shelf. Books flew to the floor. The rest of us had already moved, but Lord Richard was closer. He hardly had time to jump away.

What is wrong with you? Richard said. Like he really wanted to know. Like he deserved an answer.

The rest of us studied our sneakers, the jumble of open books at our feet. Moses stomped on their fragile spines.

The Library Teacher’s voice came out thin: Go to the office, Melvin.

Moses kept on pacing, huffing air like after finishing an obstacle course in Gym. We would have gone to him, but we could see his balled fists, and we knew their power. The Teacher pushed the call button on the wall, still Moses refused to go.

The Vice Principal and the Counselor came for Moses.

A little while later, they sent him back to us.



* * *



We were tired from humming and coughing. We were beat from crawling and cheering and casting our eyes to the floor. We had one last hour back in our classroom before dismissal. Our throats felt sore. We wanted something sweet on our tongues.

Heads down on our desks, we found leftover scraps of foil deep in our pockets, worked the spit-slick surface between our fingers until our Teacher saw and forced us to throw them away.

Five more minutes, she said, sounding almost cheerful. Then we can all pack up and go home.

We could not wait to get out of there. We didn’t really want to leave.

It’s time, our Teacher finally said, standing up near the door in her striped green dress, like the skin of a watermelon. If you can line up facing forward, voice at zero, I have stickers for you!

Why you want us to always turn the same way and stay silent, we told her. Why you think we want your lame stickers anyway? But we did want those stickers. Even after she’d tucked them away.

In time, we packed our things and made a line. It started at the door behind the Teacher, then wound between the clusters of desks, all the way to the back wall. We clumped into clans, wrung our arms around each other’s necks. Khaliah and Aaliyah squeezed hands, like always, but Aaliyah’s family was about to be evicted—she’d be gone before the week was out. Moses walked up and down our knotted line, hand raised to slap somebody’s neck if he caught a bit of skin showing. We snickered and drew our collars as high as they would go, trying not to flinch as he passed us.

Get in line, Melvin, our Teacher said. Haven’t you caused enough trouble for today?

Moses jumped in toward the middle, tugging the frayed edge of his jersey. I’m just messing around, he said.

When our line looked about ready to go, Cherida stumbled from her place. She held fast to a hot pink Dora the Explorer backpack—the type they sold at Family Dollar. Hand on her forehead, Cherida wobbled like a drunk. I think I need to go to the Nurse, she moaned. Why was it, we wondered, that whenever anyone else asked to go to the Nurse, the Teachers shook their heads like they didn’t believe us, like we couldn’t trust our own pain.

She’s lying! we cried. We thought we meant it. She’s trying to make us miss our buses!

For once, the Teacher did not make us wait for her to find the stack of passes and print the time and date. Instead she held up her hand to Cherida. You can hang on a minute, honey.

Cherida’s eyes widened.

She took a step back.

She hiccupped.

Let her go! we begged, reversing ourselves, feeling sorry for everything at the edge of what we thought we knew. You have to let her go to the Nurse! Right! Now!

Walk up here, Cherida, next to me, our Teacher said.

When the bell rang, Cherida and the Teacher left the room first and everyone else trailed behind. We were almost through the doorway too when Moses blocked it with his body. He sprang his arms up across his chest, like he’d done earlier at Recess that day. We looked around, to see who was left, hoping not to be the last to understand.

Our eyes all found Rod’ney, who stood right inside the door. He was grinning at Moses like he knew he was about to be in on something. But Moses shepherded Rod’ney out, arm draped around his shoulders. With Rod’ney gone, we were confused till Moses turned back and raised a shaking finger. He directed our eyes toward Richard Lordly, who stood stalled at the end of the line. Richard was squinting at the words of his book, as if he was not there with us at all.

We swallowed then. We knew.

We thought Moses would lead us, but he only said, Hurry!

Richard’s head was still down.