Revolutionary 1.3
Mr. Robb shuffled down our aisle in language arts class. An older man in his fifties with a flat head that all the kids mocked, dark, wide glasses, a flannel shirt button up and tie, and black suspenders. Steve Urkel meets Paul Buyun. He was tall, white, but skinny. Frail. He passed out the grades for our recent quiz on Animal Farm. I knew I did well on it. It’s about me. Since my parents started arguing over the past few months. My grades were falling. Jonathan and Joe weren’t wrong. I don’t know, but I think their arguing would affect my performance. I’m not Albert Einstein, but I took some pride in being a good academic and athletic student.
I could hear the groan of kids that did badly and the brightness in the eyes of those that did well. Hell, you could see surprise on the one who did better or worse than they thought. I knew I had this in the bag. Writing is my thing, the one skill I knew I was better at than Joe and Jonathan academically; they were better artists. Plus, we were in a fictional writing unit, and Animal Farm was the mentor text. Talking animals? Right up my alley. My heart beat with anticipation because I needed to show everyone I was okay. Mr. Robb stopped in front of me. He hesitated before putting my quiz face down on my desk. I looked up and didn’t see his usual disappointment in his eyes. No, something else was there.
“Mr. Steward,” his voice felt like gravel. I could smell his aftershave. The class seemed frozen as he talked to me as if I were the only one in the room. I couldn’t hear anyone or anything, just my heartbeat and his voice.”Is everything okay at home?”
Shit. Did I need to smile? No. no. no. Teachers only ask if everything is okay when they think you’re being abused or if your grades changed. This feeling in me started to rise, not anger, not sadness. Despair. Fear. I knew what this meant on the other side of this quiz. This easy quiz. I must have failed. I ignored him to look at the quiz. A red inked circle with a 40 inside with a message about wanting to talk to my parents. The fear made me want to run away, but something else stopped it. Again, not anger or sadness, but a feeling of …of…disgust? I felt sick. My pride in my grades felt like I was falling into a cold that kept me from being who I knew I was. That 40? He GAVE ME A 40. I looked up at him with that same disgust. Now I was aware of everyone; they were looking at me—all of them. I could hear them talking about me. They think I’m stupid. I could see them judging me with their eyes. They think I’m’ stupid. I felt disgusted looking at Mr. Robb, and I was going to tell him how gross his faded freckles made him look. A 40. There is no way I failed that badly. Then I stopped. I grabbed disgust and lowered my head. No, no one was looking at me. I was embarrassed. I looked up and smiled.
“Yes sir. Everything is fine.” My cheeks felt hot. Embarrassment and disgust wanted to tell Mr. Robb about himself. Mr. Robb isn’t the most empathetic of teachers. He came off as if he hated his job. So why was he asking me this question? Talk to my parents? The last time this happened was when I got sick. Who the hell does he think he is all of as sudden. He failed me on purpose. It’s none of his business that my parents are fighting. It’s none of anyone’s business.
“Well, Lonnie, look. Your grades–”
“I know, I know.” Disgust shot out. Then joy came back to my voice, “I will, um, let my parents know that you would like to talk to them.”
“Lonnie, I think you might want to see Ms. Hightower.”
“No, I’m fine. I’m just not focused at all.”
“Well, if this keeps up, Lonnie, they will have to take you off the basketball team.”
The bell rang and all the kids raced for the door. I took the quiz and my bag and walked past Mr. Robb. Forcing myself to not be rude, I turned back and said, “Thank you for reminding me. I’ll do better next time.”
I walked out of the classroom and Jessica was waiting for me. She was shorter than me and from my last physical, I was about 4 foot four. Shorter than average, I mean most of my peers I had to look up to like Jonathan, who told me he was 4 ’11 the average. She was cute and had sandy blonde hair, which contrasted with her pale white skin. She kept it in a ponytail. Much like Tracy who obviously was taller than the average boy in our grade, she had no curves, no hint of puberty. I didn’t either outside of armpit hair and the stink that comes from it. Nope, we still look like kids, not teenagers. She looked at me and smiled as we walked down the hallway.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing.” I could see her looking at me with worry in her beautiful blue eyes. Funny, I never noticed her eyes before and we have dated for about a month now since January. She was small, petite, cute. Not like Tracy, who could have been a model. Jessica reached out to my hand. I almost pulled back like I usually do. There is supposed to be no holding hands, kissing, hugging in school, but you know kids, and Jessica had been pressuring me about this. My dad’s words have echoed in my mind since I started dating Jessica. Phrases like you should be dating your own kind. “White girls will only set you up for failure. You’ll end up like all of those other black men.” “Oh, are you too good for black girls?” He said them to be funny, but you can tell there was truth behind those words. I don’t think he is racist, more so, he’s like seeing black love as my mom would say.
I let Jessica take my hand and when I looked, I could see a sense of relief from her eyes. God, they’re so beautiful. I’m not a swimmer, but right now, I could swim in them all day. Her hand was a little cold, but it is February. Her face, the smile she had, made me feel like I finally did something right. I got Jonathan and Joe on the same page for our characters’ backgrounds and made my girlfriend happy. I just need to get the grades under control and help my parents sort out their stuff.
“What’s that?” her voice sounded like a chipmunk and again, cute. She grabbed the quiz out of my hand, and those beautiful eyes went wide.
“A 40? What happened Lonnie?”
“I’m not sure. I studied. I read the chapters. You know Mr. Robb is the hardest teacher in the school. You hear everyone else.”
“No, something isn’t right with you. I mean, you’re finally holding my hand, your grades are getting worse. Is it your parents fighting?”
Hi Anger, Hi Disgust, and Hi Sadness. All three crept up and wanted to take control. In that order. Anger that for the month we dated, all she complained about was me not hugging her, holding her hands, and now I’m holding her hands and she is complaining about it? Disgusted about my grades, and my family fighting was sad, but everything will be okay. I don’t know why everyone thinks that my parents’ fighting is my problem.
“No, Jess, look, I’m off my game. It happens to the best of us. Even Steph misses scoring Everton now and then. I’m in a rough patch.” I snuck out a smile and looked at her. Anger wanted me to rip into her and disgust wanted to make fun of her and compare her to Tracy. “As for holding you hand, I thought it was time. You know, Valentine’s Day is next week.”
“I didn’t think you cared about that. I wasn’t going to bring it up.”
I sighed. I wasn’t a good boyfriend. My parents started fighting way before Jess and I started dating. She deserved better.
“Well, I do.” I kept smiling. Holding her hand tiger to show my commitment.
“Right…” she trailed. She did move closer to me and it felt good. Two little rabbits walking amongst giants For once, I didn’t let their eyes or thoughts get to me about being short or having a white girlfriend. I could see it in her eyes, too. They were like my dad and I was not like my dad.
We stopped in front of her science class where my boy Daniel and another light skin black girl April were hanging out in front.
“There goes my boy.” Daniel was maybe an inch taller, but otherwise, we were the same physically. He slapped my hand in greeting, as he always does. “So, you’re holding hands now, huh?”
“Don’t make it sound so surprising,” I said. I looked at April. She was taller than Daniel, but I would imagine she was considered average height for a girl our age. She was more yellow-boned than Tracy’s redbone, but unlike Tracy or Jessica, definitely had some curves, not much, but I could see her bra outline in the green shirt she wore and even leaning against the lockers her white gym sweatpants outline the hips. I hung out with April a few times back home. Well, usually in a group. She was cute, but Daniel liked her and I was with Jessica and well, even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked her or Tracy out anyway.
“Naw man, it’s a good thing. It’s about time,” he said and looked at the time, Oh, we got a minute left. I’ll call you later. Jessica was smiling as she looked at me. I took a final look at April as she followed Daniel in, her hips rocking back and forth. I looked back at Jessica’s ocean eyes and decided to be the aggressor and went in for a hug. She felt good, and to my surprise, I felt her chest. I thought of her as having no curve, but I felt something, and I felt excitement as she pulled me in tighter. We pulled away.
“I gotta run to the gym.” I could see that smile again, but her eyes still had worry. Fear.
“Hurry up,” she said and went into the classroom.
I started jogging a little. The gym wasn’t too far, so I should be fine. I thought about Jessica more than I had since we started dating. I was surprised she asked me out this time. After all, we didn’t talk all year really. With my parents fighting and wanting to have a girlfriend, she came at the right time. Joe would say it was convenient for both of us. I would say Joe was wrong. Look at us hugging and holding hands. I fixed it, and that made me confident that I could fix my grades and my parents, too.
