Because We Are (3 page)

“Ha!” It sounded as though her mother had been waiting for the question. “When you're a woman, you'll understand.”

“I
am
a woman.”

“Uh-huh.…” Her mother kept her eyes straight ahead. The sadness on her face deepened.

Emma shifted on the seat. Why can't she give Daddy up? she thought.

The car pulled alongside the curb in front of the school. Taking her time, Emma unfolded herself out of the car and reached into the back for her things.

“Emma, please …”

“… don't keep me waiting after school.” Emma finished the sentence.

“You're so smart. See if you're smart enough to keep out of trouble. You're here by the grace of God and my goodness. Not many mothers would drive way over here every morning before work. Remember that.”

“Yes, Ma, I'll remember.”

She walked toward the auditorium steps, knowing that her lips were pouting. Allan Page was waiting. How glad she was that he was somewhat shy, not aggressive like Marvin. He always seemed to know when she had gone the rounds with her mother and needed time to erase the frown from her forehead and the pout from her lips.

How pleased she was that he was there. She recalled her first day at Manning when he had walked up and told her his name. “You look so scared. Don't be. I'll help you, if you let me.” He became her ace, her very special friend.

Over the weeks, as they waited for the crowd to arrive, they had shared bits and pieces; but she had never told him why she came all the way across town to Manning. He knew she was a science major, interested in medicine; that she had a very special boyfriend at Marlborough High; and he knew about her stepmother, too. She knew his mother had lost her job as a school cafeteria worker because she could not pass the written test, and that his father was dead.

As she approached, he smiled his slow, easy smile and said, “It's a good morning, eh?”

She sighed. “Oh, man. I can't deal with my mother. Git sick of her lip. But I shouldn't say that. She has it pretty tough. It's a drag driving way over here every day.”

“I've been wondering why you come way over here. Can't be an opportunity transfer. Not from Marlborough to Manning.” He laughed.

“Could be,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But not likely,” he said.

Silence floated between them. She was glad that he did not pursue the question. She took out her makeup kit and began replacing her makeup.

“Why put all that goop on your face?” Allan asked.

“You sound just like my mama,” Emma retorted.

“With skin like wild honey, you don't need it. You're a pretty lady.”

She opened her lively, bright brown eyes wide and brushed on mascara carefully. She touched her fingertip to her tongue, then smoothed her eyebrows. She looked at Allan and winked. “My friends at Marlborough like my makeup.”

“Hey,” Allan said excitedly, “now I'll get a chance to meet those friends at the big game, eh?”

“Yeah. They'll be here, and Marlborough will be state champions, what you bet?”

“That's not even a bet, woman,” Allan said and laughed.

“We'll see,” Emma said and blotted her lipstick.

The crowd was arriving now. Emma remembered her first day at Manning. Right off she noticed the absence of white students. With the exception of a few Asians, Chicanos, and Mexican-Americans, the student body was Black. The discovery was a pleasant shock. At Marlborough, Blacks had been few. Emma had known and related, in some way, to all of them. It was impossible to get to know half the people on this campus.

The crowd thickened. Each group stood off by itself. Blacks split into many small groups.

“These people you see in and out of the building before the bell are the
boojeis
,” Allan said.

“Boojeis”?

“The well-to-doers, the rulers, functionaries, police people.”

“Oh, you mean the bourgeois.”

“Right. On campus over there, that's Carrie and her entourage, the
climbers
—the want-to-be rulers; and to my right holding forth, is Brenda, a typical
survivor.
”

“Who's the stout girl she's talking to?”

“That's Liz. They're all rough—trying to make it.”

Emma was surprised that he thought that way about students. Allan went on. “Then there are the
toms
, laughing at demeaning jokes or begging for attention at any cost.”

“Which one are you?” Emma asked.

“I'm a loner, swimming against the tide. I observe.”

“I can't say I'm a loner, but it looks as though newcomers are no more welcomed here than they are at Marlborough.”

In every group, excitement about the football championship game between Manning and Marlborough dominated the conversation. Emma, on the fringe, longed for her old friends and wondered if she would ever be a part of any of these groups.

The bell rang. She gathered her things and said to Allan, “Stay for lunch today.”

“Oh-h-h, no! I'm going home.”

“Please, Allan. I just hate eating alone. Stay.”

“First place, I don't have any money. I can't take that long line and ole Eoil Can and his friends.”

“
Eoil Can
. Who's Eoil Can?”

“Haven't you met Eoil Can, the thief? You will.”

Strange one, that Allan. Smart, too, Emma thought as she made her way to first period. This was also Allan's senior year. He had gone to Bel Air in the volunteer free busing programs for elementary and junior high students. He could have gone to any high school in the city on a volunteer transfer, but he had chosen Manning. Why? she asked herself as she hurried down the hall.

The morning passed quickly. When the bell rang for fifth period, Emma rushed to the cafeteria, thankful she had homeroom just before lunch. The informal atmosphere made it possible to be at the door ready to make that mad dash to avoid the long lines. With less than a thousand seats in the cafeteria for two thousand students, lunchtime at Manning became a true test of “survival of the fittest.” Fifth period was the best, sixth not so bad, but seventh was impossible. She hoped she would never have seventh period for lunch.

Emma was among the first to finish eating. She waded through the groups and on to the outside. The line waiting to get in was still long and the grounds seethed with others eating lunch from bags. She saw several members of her science class under the bonsai tree, gazing at the sky. As she approached them she noticed one of them was holding a watch. She stood near, but they paid her no attention.

Suddenly someone shouted, “They're here.”

“Right on the minute,” the timekeeper said.

Then Emma saw a flock of sea gulls heading in like raiders. Students tried to take cover, but there was no place to go as the crying gulls came to feed, raining their droppings, flapping their wide wings, their beady eyes alert, their yellow beaks ready.

A great commotion spread through the crowd and then a scream, “He took my sandwich.”

The scrawny bird, with the whole sandwich in its beak, soared away. It was done so quickly, Emma hardly had time to see that the sludge-colored bird was small for a mature sea gull. Its feathers were scarce and scattered, its eyes exposed beads, and its beak rough.

“Ole Eoil Can did it again,” someone shouted and the crowd laughed.

So that was Eoil Can, Emma thought. A survivor. Evidently, the gull had lived through an oil slick and was making it. The other gulls settled and fed as familiars. The crowd took its usual form. Suddenly Emma felt a tap on her shoulder. “Can't y' say ‘hi' t' people?”

Emma looked around. There was Liz. Short, stout Liz, whom Allan had often called rough. “Oh, hi,” Emma said, surprised. She had seen Liz often in that group teasing Allan. No one in that group had ever spoken to her.

Liz smiled, but Emma noticed that even though the smile seemed warm, it did not soften her black eyes. Could Liz be deceptively mild?

“I've been watchin' y' every mornin' with Allan. What y' name?”

“Emma. Emma Walsh.”

“I know y' friend done told y' who I am. Where's he?”

“He went home for lunch.”

“Pretty outfit y' got on there. You dress good, y' know.” Liz reached out and touched the soft wool of Emma's sweater.

Emma felt her face going hot. She was not accustomed to strangers being so direct. Her friends at Marlborough knew clothes meant little to her, and what she was wearing today was not fine at all.

“Come over here with me. Want y' t' meet my friends,” Liz said.

Emma followed Liz toward a group of girls who looked her up and down as she approached. Suddenly she felt as though she had been recruited and Liz had been ordered to escort her into camp. Some stares were openly hostile, but Liz's directness had offered Emma a challenge. She pushed through the loud, boisterous crowd and was finally encircled by Liz's friends. Liz did the introductions. There was silence. Emma realized that she had not encountered girls exactly like these before.

Then Brenda, who had appeared the most hostile, said, “Y' from the hills, eh?”

“I live in Brandon Heights,” Emma said.

The bell rang.

“I thought so, with your saddity self.” Brenda walked around Emma and the group laughed.

The words hit Emma like a sharp and chilly wave. I'm not stuck-up, or grand, either, Emma thought, but said nothing. That Brenda could be a problem she really did not need. She started toward her class. The chill of Brenda's words did not go away. Emma felt she was right back where she had been at Marlborough High when she was trying to erase the image of “Oreo chick.” But she was in no mood to prove anything to anyone. She hadn't sought them out, she told herself, even though she had met them willingly enough. What would Allan say? She had been jammed by the
survivors
.

Four

The stadium hummed with a thousand voices that cool, sunny November afternoon. Pre-game pep cheers flowed in waves. All day the campus had been poised, shrouded with a particular hush, a suspense—waiting for this moment to release the outburst that would sweep Manning to victory over Marlborough, making Manning city-wide football champions.

The boojeis were in command, leading the cheers:

FI
-
RE
-UP,
TIGERS
,
FI
-
RE
-UP

FI
-
RE
-UP,
TIGERS
,
FI
-
RE
UP

FIREUP TO FIGHT

FIREUP TO WIN

FIREUP TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN

FIREUP
!!!

Emma, excited by the bustle, pushed through the crowd to find Allan Page. Would he be waiting as he promised? Marvin was coming to the game. She hoped that he and Allan would get on fine. But would they?

The rivalry between Manning and Marlborough was fierce and the city championship game was just the monster to stir tensions that bordered on enmity. Even the strongest bonds could be loosed in the course of a shared sports event. They'll like each other, she reassured herself.

Finally she saw Allan near the stadium. He was desperately trying to reach some girl, who had from behind placed her hands over his eyes. As Emma came closer, she recognized the girl, Brenda. Liz and Brenda's other friends were around Allan, laughing.

“Thank goodness, you're here,” Emma said as she walked up.

“Oh, so that's who y' waitin' for,” Brenda said, removing her hands. “No wonder y' can't sit with us. Brandon Heights gits all y' attention.”

“I'm not even going to the game. I already know the winning team, so why waste my money?”

“Don't be jivin' us. We know where y' comin' from.” Brenda and her friends walked away without saying hello to Emma.

Emma's attention was on the crowd. Where was Marvin? she wondered. Had she missed him? She hoped he hadn't gone into the stands.

“They're on your case, I see,” Allan said.

“Who? What you talking about?”

“Brenda and her little crowd.”

“Oh.
Them
. I told you Liz singled me out. What are they supposed to be? Tough or something?”

Allan laughed. “They survive.”

Finally Emma saw Marvin. Her heart pounded and her insides seemed to do a flip-flop.

“Hey, man!” Allan rushed toward Marvin.

“What you say!” Marvin reached for Allan.

“You two know each other?” Emma asked.

“We're old junior-high buddies,” Marvin said, and in the next breath to Allan, “You know this lady?” He took Emma's hand and drew her to him.

“Allan Page is my ace, Marv.”

“Did she tell you she's my woman?” Marvin asked.

“Aw, Marvin,” she said. She was embarrassed, and tried to subdue the joy that flooded her.

“Well, aren't you?” He touched her chin lightly with his fist and smiled. “You'd better be.”

“How come you didn't tell me that the city's leading basketball scorer is your ole man?” Allan asked. “Ole Marvelous Marv.”

“How could I know you two were tight? We'd better get on to the game.”

“I have your ticket, baby,” Marvin said to Emma.

“I have my own.”

“Well, we have four. Come on, Allan.”

“I'm not going.”

“Not going?” Marvin asked. “What kind of spirit is that?” He pressed the ticket into Allan's hand.

As they went toward Marlborough's section, Emma walked between them and smiled as they got reacquainted.

“So, Emma's your old lady? I like that, man, really like that. Listen, I'm going on over to my side. We gonna beat you and make you happy while we doing it. Emma, I know
you
aren't coming over.”

“No, I'm not, and no offense to Manning, Allan.” Then she thought, Will my Marlborough friends think I am still tied to them? She felt a surge of guilt that she was unable to give all of her loyalty to Manning.