A Star is Born Page 4

  Bobbi started out the door and the rest of the Cruisers followed her. We knew we had smoked Mr. Lord and he knew it, too. When adults start calling you “children” and start hanging stuff like “complexity” on you, then it’s clear that they can’t think of anything better to say.

  The thing was that a lot of people, and especially Charles Lord, had been taking shots at Da Vinci. They wanted to point out how many kids in public schools were doing badly, but they had turned the whole deal around so that it looked like it was the fault of the schools that were doing well. I could dig where they were coming from but I also knew that the students at Da Vinci were expected to do more work than kids in most schools. And we were doing it. Case closed. Even the Cruisers, who weren’t all rah-rah about good grades, knew we had to represent.

  Bobbi had to go to Phys Ed and Kambui went to the media center to look up something, and so when LaShonda caught up with me and took my arm we were alone, except for three hundred other kids going through the hallway.

  “Zander man, thanks for your support,” LaShonda said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “You need me, just call me,” I said, rather heroically.

  “I’d marry you if you weren’t already hooked up with Caren,” LaShonda said, her smile spreading across her face.

  “Hey, I’m not hooked up with Caren Culpepper!” I said.

  “Of course you’re not,” LaShonda said, all wide-eyed like she knew I didn’t believe what she was saying.

  “LaShonda —”

  “It’s all platonic, right?” she asked.

  THE CRUISER

  MY READING LIST

  By Bobbi McCall

  1. Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

  2. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

  3. The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

  4. A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin

  5. After the Rain by Norma Fox Mazer

  6. Define “Normal” by Julie Anne Peters

  7. Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell

  8. Holes by Louis Sachar

  9. Platero and I by Juan Ramón Jiménez

  10. The Gay Genius: The Life and Times of Su Tungpo by Lin Yutang

  Uh-oh, too many books for the kids at Saltine Middle School? I’ll drop the last four.

  Uh-oh, too hard for the kids at Oreo Academy? I’ll drop Rebecca and A Wizard of Earthsea.

  Uh-oh, interferes with Silent TV, Wednesdays at the Vanilla Wafer School? I’ll drop Anne Frank and After the Rain.

  Uh-oh, they’ve run out of Cliff Notes for Define “Normal”? I’ll drop it.

  That just leaves Speak, but now I guess we’ve achieved equal opportunity — at least in reading. And, oh, yes, we’re dropping all math that has an equation with an x or any other unknown.

  THE CRUISER

  MOUNTAINS

  By Zander Scott

  Some people climb mountains for the sheer joy of accepting a challenge. Mr. Lord thinks we should stop these people at once because others don’t see mountain climbing as a joyful experience. Or education, either.

  Some people climb mountains because their parents climbed them, and they think it’s normal to climb. Mr. Lord thinks we should definitely stop these people to get back at the parents.

  Some people climb mountains because the extra effort doesn’t bother them. Mr. Lord thinks we shouldn’t have mountain climbing until it becomes easy, maybe with escalators.

  Some people, Mr. Lord, see the rewards on the tops of the mountains and understand that those rewards will make life better for them. And some people, Mr. Lord, are struggling with burdens you can’t even imagine, and they struggle up the mountain hoping to find a life that they, and the people they love, can call normal.

  For some people, Mr. Lord, it is only the view from the mountaintop that will make us whole.

  All Cruisers! All Cruisers! Get over to FDA NOW! They’re saying that Sagal can’t run the dash unless she strips down to shorts! Bring guns and ammo!

  — BOBBI MAC

  I had been thinking of going over to Frederick Douglass Academy to show the Da Vinci girls’ track team some love but I got myself sidetracked thinking about LaShonda’s problem. The thing was that I always thought that if you had a problem all you had to do was be smart enough and you could solve it. Now I was running into problems that looked as if it didn’t matter if you were smart because they didn’t have any good solutions.

  LaShonda’s problem was real and I didn’t see a solution to it. I could figure out what to do — if she didn’t want to be separated from her brother then she should stick to her game plan. That was all cool but it didn’t make things right because they were still poor and he was still needing her.

  When I got Bobbi’s text message I knew what that was about and I almost felt as if I didn’t want to go over to FDA. FDA kids thought they were so smart — most of them were — but they were constantly scoping out Da Vinci for a beat down. Everybody in the school leagues knew that Sagal, the anchor on the Da Vinci girls’ relay team, was a Muslim and couldn’t strip down to shorts, but nobody made an issue of it until they found out just how fast she was. The girl could run!

  Kambui comes up with a lot of lame sayings but when he talked about Sagal I thought maybe he had something going on. I met him in the train station at 148th Street and we walked toward FDA together.

  “Sagal will fight them if they try to stop her from running,” Kambui said. He had his camera out and was filming everything. “And if she fights, I’m going to fight with her, man!”

  Yeah, right.

  Sagal Shehabi was born in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Her father made a living as an appliance repairman and her mother baked bread and sold it. Sagal was wounded in the fighting between Americans and the Taliban and to prove it had a really ugly scar that ran across her forehead, down alongside her nose, and across the tip of her chin. She was usually quiet and stayed to herself and you would have thought that she didn’t know anything. But her grades were good and she tried to blend in with the American girls. When she went out for the track team the other girls thought she didn’t understand what it meant because she showed up in loose-fitting pants and wore a hijab, which covered her hair. But when she ran they knew she had something serious going on.

  So me and Kambui showed our IDs downstairs and went up to FDA’s gym.

  “Yo, Zander, you getting uglier!” I recognized Freddy Brandt sitting in the bleachers. He was in FDA’s band. “You looking like a sissy King Kong!”

  “And I can smell your breath from here!” I called back. “You need to stop rinsing your false teeth in the toilet bowl.”

  Mr. Weinstein, our athletic director, was on the gym floor talking to the FDA coach when I got over to them.

  “Zander, go sit down!” Mr. Weinstein said.

  “I’m here to —”

  “Go sit down!” he yelled.

  I gave him a look, but I didn’t hold it too long because I really didn’t think he was wrapped too tight and he was built like he could knock you out with one punch.

  Bobbi found me and started running the whole set down in fast-forward time.

  “They’re talking about how everyone has to wear the same uniform, but I think it’s just because they don’t want their precious darlings to get beat and they don’t even have the fastest girls in this school on the team because they need a ‘cute’ factor and our girls don’t play cute!”

  I knew Bobbi was coming from a feminist position and everything because she lived with two women, but our girls, except for Sagal, were just too cute, especially on the relay team. We had the Hopkins sisters, Shantese and Zhade, both of whom I would die for, Maria Torres, who could fly and was fly, and Sagal bringing it home.

  Dr. Barnwell, FDA’s principal, came out on the floor and called the FDA coach and Mr. Weinstein over. They had a meeting in the middle of the floor and you could tell by Mr. Weinstein’s body language that things were not going good for Da Vinci.

  F
inally, the FDA coach got on the loudspeaker and made an announcement that the Da Vinci relay team had withdrawn. All the FDA kids started hooting at us.

  But then …

  But then Sagal went to the center of the floor and took the mike from the FDA coach’s hand and spoke into it.

  “We are withdrawing from the race because you Americans are afraid to compete against a Muslim girl. If your girls can’t run fast I can understand that. I feel sorry for you.”

  She handed the mike back to the FDA coach and walked away.

  All the FDA students started yelling and saying how they would run away from us and we weren’t this and we weren’t that. Well, what that did was to get all the school officials back onto the middle of the floor with their heads together.

  “We have to get Sagal into the Cruisers,” I said to Bobbi.

  “Her parents are too strict,” Bobbi said. “They won’t let her join. The only reason she’s on the track team is that she ran with her brothers in Afghanistan.”

  Body language. Mr. Weinstein started toward us and beckoned toward the girls. They were going to run.

  There were four teams in the relay: FDA as the host school, Wadleigh, Arts and Sciences, and Da Vinci. I thought our girls could beat FDA but I knew that Wadleigh was just plain tough and you could never tell about a team from Arts and Sciences. Sometimes they would show up ready and sometimes they would be jiving around.

  The race was four by a hundred, which meant that each girl would run one hundred yards and then pass the baton on to the next girl. The biggest danger was falling too far behind and then getting careless with the baton. You only had a small area in which you could pass the baton, and if you dropped it you were just out of luck. The race would be over before you picked it up.

  Shantese was down in the starting blocks and she looked ready. She was wearing really short running pants and her stomach was bare.

  “Yo, Zander, push your eyes back in their sockets,” Bobbi said. “You’re embarrassing the school!”

  Down the track, Zhade was waiting with the other girls who were going to run the second leg. Maria Torres was straight across from me. On the far side, to my left, I could see Sagal. She was wearing a green hijood that covered her hair and neck. Her arms were covered down to her wrists and her legs were covered down to the tops of her running shoes. The girls from the other teams around her were running their mouths.

  Body language.

  “Yo, Kambui, check out that scene,” I said. “They’re trying to intimidate Sagal.”

  “You think we should go over there and stare them down?” Kambui asked.

  “Don’t bother.” Bobbi was leaning against Kambui. “She’s been wounded in her body and face, shot at by the Taliban, and she’s still got the nerve to compete. They’re not making her nervous.”

  The gun went off and the race was on. Shantese got a late start and was behind the other girls as she rounded the first turn. The girl from Wadleigh, very short and very dark, was smooth on the front end and she looked like she could have done the whole race by herself. I watched the girls in the second leg line up. I glanced at the clock. The girl from Wadleigh passed the baton a hair past eleven seconds.

  If Zhade asked me to marry her I would probably say yes, even though I didn’t have a job or anything. And she could run. She started off five yards behind the other girls but made up half the distance by the time she reached Maria.

  I could see Maria digging down and leaning on the curve. She was looking great and quickly passed one of the girls. When she hit the far curve she was stride for stride with the second girl. Maybe just a body length behind.

  Sometimes the fastest runner is the anchor and sometimes the positions are just about who can handle running on a curve best. When Maria reached out the baton to Sagal my heart was in my mouth. Then Maria fell!

  “Crap!” Bobbi said.

  “She passed it!” Kambui came back. “Sagal’s got the baton!”

  I saw Sagal switch the baton from her left hand to her right. Her legs were pumping like crazy as she leaned into the last turn and headed for the last sixty yards. She was still a yard behind the leader, a big, powerful-looking girl wearing the blue and white Wadleigh uniform.

  “Run, Sagal, run!” Bobbi was screaming.

  Sagal was running hard and I couldn’t tell who was in front. Then I saw the girl from Wadleigh’s hands go up as they crossed the finish line.

  “Who got it? Who got it?” Mr. Weinstein was pushing me with one hand and looking toward the officials.

  The two officials put their heads together for a moment and then one of them made a motion, bringing his finger around his head. The girl with her head covered had won!

  Yes!

  Okay, so Sagal wasn’t the best-looking girl in the school and her face was scarred, but right then and there I would have married her, too.

  THE PALETTE

  WHAT I LOVE ABOUT AMERICA

  By Sergeant Olga Litowinsky

  I was told that the Cruisers all showed up in support of Sagal Shehabi at the track meet at FDA. Sagal helped Da Vinci win the race she was in and helped the entire athletic squad win the meet. Although it was a personal victory for those who experienced it, what appealed to me was that Americans are always willing to let everyone compete. I congratulate Da Vinci, Sagal, the track team, and the Cruisers.

  I have just served my third tour in the Middle East and I think I see a lot of progress as the area stabilizes. Sometimes the day-to-day operations are hectic, but I know American troops, especially those in Civilian Relations, are doing their best to bring peace to the country. I have had a few narrow escapes and have had to fire my weapon on occasion, but I am proud to be an American and proud of what we have done in this troubled part of the world.

  The question I am going to ask you when this film is finished” — Mr. Siegfried pushed his glasses up on his nose — “is how many people, in how many countries, make a profit from this one simple operation of manufacturing chocolate? Yes, you might take out your notebooks and do the calculations, but you will not talk during this short film.”

  “Would you mind if I ran out and got some popcorn?” Phat Tony asked.

  Mr. Siegfried walked over to Phat Tony’s desk. “Mr. Williams, may I share with you two small facts? The first is that you are far less amusing than you imagine you are, and the second is that you are on the very cusp of failing Social Studies. I derive a great deal of pleasure in failing students who overestimate their cleverness. Shall we continue with your supposedly witty remarks or shall we discard our humor for the time being, sir?”

  “We can let it go, sir,” Phat Tony said, slumping down into his seat.

  The room didn’t really get dark but we could see the film all right. First they showed this family sitting around the table having cups of cocoa in the morning and then this voice-over came on asking if anybody wondered how this “delicious cup of goodness” got to their breakfast table.

  One boy said that they made it in New Jersey, but I didn’t believe that.

  Then we saw the woman in the family buying the cocoa in the supermarket, then there was a picture of a black guy driving boxes of the stuff from a warehouse. I put down some tick marks on a sheet of paper. After that there was a ship with huge steel containers of something I assumed was cocoa and then a quick shot of people loading the ship.

  “I’m giving this film one and a half stars,” Kambui said.

  Then the film showed a farm and trees and stuff. I didn’t know cocoa grew on trees, so that was kind of interesting. We watched people gathering the plants and loading them onto trucks. Some of them were looking at the camera and smiling and I liked that.

  When the film ended everybody started comparing their number of how many people made money on the cocoa. I had counted five: the guy who ran the supermarket, the guy who brought the cocoa from the warehouse to the supermarket, whoever brought it to the warehouse from the ship, whoever brought it to the ship, and whoe
ver grew it in the first place.

  With Mr. Siegfried you were always going to be wrong. He was fair on tests, but in class he had a way of always making you feel off balance.

  He started adding in bookkeepers, the people who made the containers, salespeople, and even people who traded in cocoa on the stock exchange. Boring. I could see where Mr. Siegfried was coming from but I really didn’t care.

  “There were children picking the cocoa,” Bobbi said. “How come they weren’t in school? The announcer said it was their winter.”

  I thought that Mr. Siegfried was going to say something about kids going to school wasn’t our subject, but he didn’t. He got right on Bobbi’s comments and asked her to look up when the schools were open in Brazil, where the film had been made.

  “And I’ll give you extra credit if you document your findings, Miss McCall.”

  That was swift of Bobbi, but I felt a little bad that I hadn’t picked up on it. The thing was that Bobbi picked up on a lot of things that other people didn’t.

  The afternoon went by and I kind of vegged out. I saw LaShonda across the hall and she signaled a T for me to text her.

  what’s up?

  wanna come to a tennis game this afternoon?

  u playing?

  no, Chris is. it’s an xhibition at Jackie Robinson Park.

  yeah, ok — what time?

  3:30

  see ya then

  I didn’t know what kind of program it was going to be but I thought I would go just to show LaShonda some support. I had seen handicapped kids play sports before and didn’t really dig it. It was good that Chris was getting out more, though.

  The thing was I didn’t know what was actually wrong with Chris but I knew something wasn’t right. Whenever I saw him and LaShonda was around he would put his forehead against her and keep it there unless they needed to walk somewhere. He was a friendly kid, sort of, but he never looked right at you. It was like he was overhearing a conversation rather than you were talking to him.