Emako Blue

Table of Contents

 

 

SPEAK
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Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,
a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2004
Published by Speak, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2005

Copyright © Brenda Woods, 2004

 

All rights reserved

 

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGUED THE PUTNAM EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Woods, Brenda (Brenda A.) Emako Blue / by Brenda Woods. p. cm.
Summary: Monterey, Savannah, Jamal, and Eddie have never had much to do with
each other until Emako Blue shows up at chorus practice, but just as the lives of the
five Los Angeles high school students become intertwined, tragedy tears them apart.
1. African Americans—Juvenile fiction. [1. African Americans—Fiction.
2. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction.
5. Los Angeles—Fiction.]
I. Title. PZ7.W86335Em 2004 [Fic]—dc22 2003016647

eISBN : 978-1-101-09996-4

 

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

Acknowledgments

I thank God, who led me to and through this story. I also thank
Barbara Markowitz for her continued support and kindness. Thank you
to John Rudolph for his editorial skill and for sharing my vision.
Finally, thank you to Nancy Paulsen and everyone at Putnam for
allowing me the freedom to write about a difficult subject.
Life is precious.

The parking lot at the church was full. A fat cop, parked on a motorcycle, waved us by with one hand while he wiped his forehead with the other. It was hot.

The air-conditioning in our Chevy Blazer was broken and my daddy’s palms were so wet, he almost lost his grip on the steering wheel and cussed out loud. Mama dabbed at the back of her neck with a wrinkled white handkerchief. I was sweating too. No music played on the radio. Silence.

A crowd was standing in front of the church, but I knew that if Emako hadn’t died the way she had, most of these people wouldn’t be here. As for me, I belonged here. Emako was my
girl.

Daddy found a parking space on the street and squeezed in between two cars. I slid out of the car and walked into the church, holding my mama and daddy’s hands. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see Emako’s family, but there was a human shield around them all dressed in black.

I was wearing a short skirt, and when I sat down between my mama and daddy, the yellow wood of the pew felt cool against my bare brown legs.

“Today is a day of great sorrow!” the preacher’s loud voice boomed, filling the church just as Eddie came and sat down in front of me. I touched him on the shoulder and he turned around. He looked into my eyes and squeezed my hand like he was trying to give me his strength. Tears started to roll down my cheeks and I let go of his hand and reached into my purse for a tissue.

“A sweet innocent life has been taken before her time!” the preacher shouted.

“Have mercy!” a woman in the front screamed.

“Amen!” a man yelled from the back of the church.

The choir director motioned to the choir with his hand and they stood up and began to hum and sway.

All of a sudden, Emako’s mother, Verna, jumped up, stumbled over to the casket, and screamed, “Lord, no! Not my child!”

The choir stopped humming.

A man stood up, put his arm around her shoulders, and took her back to her seat. My body started to tremble. Daddy hugged me and Mama took my hands. Silver stars and moons dangled from the bracelet that Emako had given me for my birthday.

“Who can comfort this mother? I ask, who?” the preacher shouted. “No one but the Lord!”

People all around me whispered, “Amen.”

“Praise Jesus!” the preacher said softly. “Yet we have all come here today to try to comfort this mother, and this family, and to celebrate the short life of this young woman child, Emako Blue. We have come here today to try to make some sense out of this and we have come here today to say good-bye. But I say to each and every one of you, this is not really a good-bye, because Emako has just gone on ahead of us to a better place. And I say to this mother, you will see your child again on the other side, in that place we call Paradise.”

I wanted to tell him to stop, but the preacher was going on and on and his words were loud and hard, like cymbals banging.

Tragedy! Outrage! Atrocity!

Then softer words, like a violin.

Sweetness. Innocence. Like a lamb.

The choir stood and filled the church with a song called “Bringing in the Sheaves,” and I hesitated before I stood up to take my place in the procession of mourners at the front of the church, mostly because I wanted to remember Emako the way she was. My legs got weak and my daddy put his arms around me and held me up.

I turned my head and saw Emako’s mama. I swallowed hard as I started to cry again, but I was careful not to let her see the tears as the beginning of another salty stream touched my upper lip.

I walked slowly toward the coffin and stared. Emako. My
girl.
Emako Blue. She looked beautiful and her casket was baby pink.

Daddy led me back to the pew and we sat down. The church was finally quiet.

I put my head on my daddy’s shoulder.

I remembered the first time I met Emako.

My mind left the church.

It was the beginning of the school year. I was a sophomore and I was trying out for the school chorus, waiting in the auditorium for my turn to sing. There were twenty of us trying out for twelve spots. Mr. Santos, the director of the chorus, sat at the piano, warming up, and everyone was talking, filling the room with noise.

Mr. Santos stopped playing the piano, looked at a sheet of paper, and called a name. “Sage Hudson.”

A white girl with pale pink skin and long curly red hair walked up the steps and I could tell she was scared. She had a high voice that made most people in the room shut up and I imagined her singing music like opera or something. I wondered if my voice was good enough and part of me wanted to get up and leave.

Mr. Santos looked at his list again. “Savannah Parker.” This light-skinned black girl with a really big butt ran up the steps and almost tripped and fell. She was short but she was wearing shoes with four-inch heels. She had a good voice but she sang a little off-key. I took a deep breath and decided to stay. Maybe I had a chance.

“Could we have some quiet?” Mr. Santos asked.

We kept talking.

Mr. Santos shook his head and looked at his list. “Emako Blue.”

She stood up, and as she walked up the steps, she immediately had the attention of all of the fellas in the room.

“Damn! She’s fine!” I heard one of them say.

Then she opened her mouth and her voice poured out into the auditorium. It was like vanilla incense, smoky and sweet.

She had a voice that could do tricks, go high, low, and anywhere in between: a voice that’s a gift from God. She was Jill Scott and Minnie Riperton, Lauryn Hill and India.Arie.

She was way too pretty, with dark brown skin and black braids extended to her waist.

She was wearing tight faded blue jeans, a red sleeveless T-shirt, and black platform shoes. She was kind of tall, with a tight body like a video freak. I could feel jealousy and lust creeping around the room, and when she finished singing, the room was as quiet as a library at midnight.

Everyone in the audience clapped. Mr. Santos stood up and clapped too. He acted like he had found a star.

Jamal, this fine brother who was sitting behind me, asked the guy who was sitting next to him, “Hey, Eddie, is she beautiful or what?”

“She’s beautiful,” Eddie replied.

“I’m gonna havta get with that,” Jamal said.

Eddie just laughed. “Player, you crazy.”

Emako walked down the steps and sat down in the empty seat next to me. I smiled at her and she smiled back. Her teeth were perfect and white. I ran my tongue over my braces. She wore silver rings on every finger, including her thumbs, and had a tattoo of a small red rose on her right shoulder. Confidence was all around her and I took some of it with me when Mr. Santos called my name next.