Dear Martin Read online

  SJ: I do. Now say you have a black guy—not Justyce, but someone else—whose single parent’s income falls beneath the poverty line. He lives in a really crummy area and goes to a public school that has fifteen-year-old textbooks and no computers. Most of the teachers are fresh out of college and leave after a year. Some psychological testing has been done at this school, and the majority of students there, this guy included, are found to suffer from low self-esteem and struggle with standardized testing because of stereotype threat—basically, the guy knows people expect him to underperform, which triggers severe test anxiety that causes him to underperform.

  Doc: [Grins.]

  SJ: Now erase the two backgrounds. We’ll keep it simple and say GPA-wise, you have a four-point-oh and he has a three-point-six. Test scores, you got a fifteen-eighty, right? Well, this guy got an eleven-twenty. Based on GPA and scores only, which one of you is more likely to get into a good college?

  Jared: Me. Obviously.

  SJ: Is that fair? You’ve had access to WAY more than he has…would it be fair for a college to consider only GPA and test scores in determining who deserves to get in?

  Jared: It’s not my fault my parents can afford to send me to a good school—

  Justyce: Is it his fault his mom can’t, man?

  Everyone: […]

  SJ: I’m not saying the system is perfect. Yes, people who legitimately aren’t as qualified get picked over people who are, and yes, it’s usually people of color getting picked over white people. But before you say something “isn’t fair,” you should consider your starting point versus someone else’s.

  Jared: Whatever. All I know is that no matter what college I end up at, when I see a minority, I’m gonna wonder if they’re qualified to be there.

  Everyone: […]

  Justyce: Damn, it’s like that, Jared?

  Jared: I mean…wait, that didn’t come out right—

  SJ: And there you have it, folks.

  Everyone: […]

  December 13

  DEAR MARTIN,

  Can you explain why everywhere I turn, I run into people who wanna keep me down?

  Tonight I went home because I decided to share the Yale news with Mama in person, and while she was ecstatic, what I faced when I left the house brought me back as low as the “affirmative action is bullshit” discussion from class today.

  Basically, when I rounded the corner to head to my bus stop, Trey and a bunch of the Black Jihad dudes (the white guy included) were standing there “shootin’ the sh*t,” as my granddaddy used to say. When Trey asked me what the f%#k I was so happy about, I actually told them about Yale.

  Yeah, I was trippin’, Martin.

  Trey’s response? “You’ll be back, smart guy. Once you see them white folks don’t want yo black ass at they table. They not down with you bein’ their equal, dawg. We’ll see you soon.” He grinned.

  I think if the Socio Evo discussion had taken place on a different day, I could’ve ignored Trey. I mean what the heck does he know? I’m not even sure he’s still in school, and the only white person he interacts with was standing there with his blond hair in cornrows and a gold grill that spelled out “BRAD” across his teeth.

  Jared and Trey taken together, though? The whole return trip to campus, their words played catch with my confidence.

  Jared’s test score thing really bugged me. All this talk about how “equal” things are, yet he assumed I didn’t do as well as he did? And NOBODY can tell me he didn’t make that assumption because he’s white and I’m black, Martin.

  And then Trey…WHY does this guy insist on trying to keep me down? On the real, he’s just as bad as Jared!

  It’s like I’m trying to climb a mountain, but I’ve got one fool trying to shove me down so I won’t be on his level, and another fool tugging at my leg, trying to pull me to the ground he refuses to leave. Jared and Trey are only two people, but after today, I know that when I head to Yale next fall (because I AM going there), I’m gonna be paranoid about people looking at me and wondering if I’m qualified to be there.

  How do I work against this, Martin? Getting real with you, I feel a little defeated. Knowing there are people who don’t want me to succeed is depressing. Especially coming from two directions.

  I’m working hard to choose the moral high road like you would, but it’ll take more than that, won’t it? Where’d you get the courage to keep climbing in the face of stuff like this? Because I know you got it from both sides.

  I’m gonna try and sleep now. Get my head reset on my shoulders. Feel free to pop up in my dreams or something. Tell me what to do. Like Babe Ruth did to Benny in The Sandlot (I love that movie, Martin).

  —Justyce

  P.S. Totally unrelated, but you know anything about love triangles? I feel like a jerk because there SJ was, cheering me forward, while Melo—as usual, only thinking of herself—wanted to hold me back. And what did I do? Capitulated to the booty (and, okay, the fear of what my mama will say if I fail to keep SJ at the furthest end of the friend zone).

  I’ve got absolutely nothing on this one. How did I even end up in this position? I’m a decent-lookin’ dude, but TWO gorgeous girls wanting the J-Mac?

  I can’t even handle it, Martin.

  Before Justyce’s butt has a chance to sink into the leather of the Riverses’ basement couch, Manny’s already talking crazy. “So how long you plan to hold out on ya boy?” He doesn’t turn away from the movie he’s watching on mute while an old Deuce Diggs track thumps through the speakers.

  “I won’t even pretend to know what you’re talking about,” Jus replies. “Yo, what album is this? I don’t think I’ve heard this cut before.”

  “Mixtape from a few years ago. Don’t change the subject.”

  Jus looks at Manny. “What subject?”

  “Dawg, who just dropped you off?” Manny says.

  “SJ. Which you know from the I’ll have SJ drop me off text message you responded to fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Exaaaaactly.”

  “Exactly what?”

  “You and SJ.”

  “What about me and SJ?”

  Manny stares at Jus like he just said Two plus two is five.

  “What, Manny?”

  Manny shakes his head. “I thought we were boys, Jus.”

  “Whatever. Turn the TV up.” Justyce tucks his hands behind his head.

  “Just tell me how long.”

  “How long WHAT, fool?”

  “How long you been hookin’ up with SJ, man! Why you over here playing dumb?”

  Jus rolls his eyes. “I’m not hookin’ up with SJ, Manny.”

  “Everybody knows, man.”

  “Everybody knows what?”

  “That you’re over at her house every damn day. You know Jessa Northup is her neighbor. She told us. Says SJ’s parents are obsessed with you. Call you Jusmeister and shit.”

  Jus drags his hands down his face. He knew Jessa was nosy, but damn. “First of all, you sound like a damn girl right now with all this gossiping shit. Second, I’m not over there every day. Third, when I am there, it’s for debate stuff. And fourth, Mr. and Mrs. F liking me is irrelevant.”

  Manny rolls his eyes. “So all you go over there for is debate?”

  “Yes, Manny. The state tournament is in three and a half weeks.”

  “Okay…and that’s all y’all ever talk about?”

  Justyce’s brow furrows. “I mean, we occasionally talk about other stuff but—”

  “SEE! It’s something going on between y’all, man! I can see that shit all over you!”

  Justyce shakes his head and settles down into the couch. “I’m not talking about this anymore. You gonna turn the movie up, or what?”

  “Jus, I’m your best friend!”

  “Dawg.” Justyce sits up. Turns to look Manny in the eye. “I’m only gonna say this once, so listen closely, all right? There is nothing going on between me and SJ.”

  Manny stares right back. “Ju
s, I know you like her, man. And she obviously likes you—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Justyce sinks back into the leather.

  “It does, though—”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “You trippin’, man. SJ’s a gorgeous girl AND she’s perfect for you.”

  “Drop it.”

  “Come on, Jus—”

  “I said it doesn’t matter, Manny!”

  “Why not?”

  Justyce takes a deep breath. “Manny, my mama would blow every gasket in a fifty-mile radius.”

  “Huh?”

  “SJ is white.”

  Manny draws back, puts his hand over his heart, and mock-gasps. “What? You’re kidding me.”

  “Shut up, fool.”

  “Whatever.” Manny waves him off. “She’s not white white. She’s Jewish. It’s different.”

  Jus sighs.

  “They were slaves too, dawg. And then the Holocaust. Even now—”

  “I know what you mean. Won’t matter to my mama, though. SJ’s skin is white.”

  Manny doesn’t respond.

  “My mama is not down with that.”

  Still no response.

  Justyce exhales.

  “No offense, Jus, but that might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Manny finally says.

  Jus shrugs. “Is what it is. And since pissing my mama off ain’t real high on my to-do list, SJ and I are strictly friends. Besides, me and Mel are talkin’ again.”

  Manny smacks his forehead. “I was wrong before,” he says. “THAT is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Shut up, man.”

  “Jus, if Melo and SJ are diverging paths on the road of life, you’re headed for a dead end, my friend.”

  “Where do you get this shit, Manny?”

  “I’m just sayin’. Mama aside, you’re making the wrong decision.”

  Jus snorts. “No offense, but I refuse to take relationship advice from a dude who’s never been in one.”

  “Whoa now! Just cuz I don’t want a serious girlfriend at the moment doesn’t mean I don’t know what it takes to maintain a relationship.”

  “Ah, here we go.”

  “I’m serious, Jus. You think I’ve learned nothing from watching my parents over the last seventeen and a half years?”

  “Whatever, man. Can we please drop this?”

  They fall into a weighty silence, both staring at the massive television screen but neither actually watching the movie.

  Out of nowhere, Manny says, “You know I’ve got the opposite problem, right?”

  “What?”

  “I’ma tell you something, but don’t laugh at me, all right? I’m trusting you with a deep, dark secret.”

  Jus lifts an eyebrow.

  Manny inhales, filling his cheeks with air before blowing it out. “I’m scared of black girls, man.”

  “Huh?”

  “Black girls. I’ve never really encountered a nonfamily one.”

  “Okay…”

  “There are none in our grade. The only ones I know are my cousins and they’re…a lot.”

  “A lot?”

  “Like real attitude-y and kinda…” Manny swallows. “Ghetto.”

  Justyce doesn’t know what to say. It’s not like he has any experience in this area either. Melo’s half black, but she’s def not the type of girl Manny’s talking about.

  Manny goes on: “I know that’s a stereotype or whatever, but I’ve literally never experienced anything else. My folks are all excited about me going to Morehouse next year, but I’m nervous as hell.”

  “How come?”

  “You’re my only black friend, dawg. I’m supposed to go from this all-white world to an all-black one overnight?”

  Jus doesn’t respond.

  “Anyway. My bad for just laying all that on you.”

  Jus shrugs. “It’s cool.”

  “I should’ve applied to Princeton or somethin’. Woulda been more familiar.” Manny sighs.

  Jus shakes Manny’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, man. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of dudes you’ll vibe with at Morehouse just like you vibe with me.”

  “It’s Spelman I’m really worried about. You know it’s right next door. Black girls everywhere.”

  Jus laughs.

  “And you know I love women, man. What if I get there and none of them are feelin’ me?”

  “I wish I knew what to tell you, Manny. All I can say is they’re not all alike, just like we aren’t.”

  Manny nods. “Touché, my dawg.”

  They lapse into silence again.

  Then: “Jus, I’ma say this last thing, then I’ll get outta your business.”

  “Oh boy. Here we go.”

  “I get wanting to please your mom. The only reason I’m even going to Morehouse is because it’s been my ‘SpelHouse’ alumni parents’ dream for me since they found out I was a boy. But passing up on a good thing because your mom wouldn’t approve…I don’t know about that, man. Especially when it comes to something as stupid as race.”

  Justyce snorts.

  “You’re still doing that MLK thing, right? What would he do?”

  “I wouldn’t know considering Ms. Coretta was black.”

  “Shut up. You know what I mean. If you’re doing this Be Like Martin thing, do it for real. Refusing to date a girl because she’s white is probably not the Kingly way, bruh.”

  Justyce glares at Manny. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve told your punk ass anything.”

  Manny smirks and grabs the TV remote from the ottoman. Then he slouches down into the couch and unmutes the movie.

  Justyce is so focused on the upcoming state debate tournament, he barely notices Christmas and New Year’s as they blow by.

  Of course, the morning of the tournament itself, it’s the last thing on his mind.

  For one thing, two nights ago, he broke up with Melo again, he’s pretty sure for the last time. As they sat in her basement with her rambling about stuff that has no bearing on anything that matters, Manny’s words rang through Jus’s head like a five-bell alarm: If Melo and SJ are diverging paths on the road of life, you’re headed for a dead end.

  Speaking of SJ, that’s the other reason he can’t focus. As she steps out of the hotel elevator, smiling at him like he made the sun rise, his brain goes to mush. Though they cleared things up the day after the Melo/SJ cafeteria showdown—Jus: “I’m sorry for sidelining you, S.” SJ: “I forgive you, jackass. Don’t let it happen again.”—seeing SJ now, Justyce can tell how big of an idiot he’s been. Especially considering the fitted skirt-suit and heels she’s rockin’.

  “You ready?” she says once she’s standing right in front of him.

  He just stares.

  Her smile fades and she touches her cheek. “What? Is there something on my face?”

  “No.” Justyce clears his throat. “You look really nice is all.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Her cheeks turn pink. Justyce thinks he might combust. She winks and tugs at his tie, which matches the deep maroon of her suit, just like they planned. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

  Just then Doc comes around the corner from the breakfast buffet with the rest of the team in tow. “Good morning, my little lion cubs!” He steps between Justyce and SJ and drapes an arm around each of their shoulders. “Ready to rumble?”

  “You bet your ass we are—”

  “Watch it, Ms. Friedman,” Jus says in Doc’s voice.

  Doc and SJ laugh. “Seriously, though,” Doc says. “I know your round isn’t until after lunch, but you feel like you’re ready ready?”

  What Doc isn’t saying: he still hasn’t gotten his mind around the fact that his top two debaters elected to forgo the actual debate rounds of the tournament and focus solely on advanced pairs argumentation.

  In other words, they’ve got one shot.

  “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” SJ says. She reaches past Doc to squeeze Jus’s hand.

  Ju
s looks at her, and she smiles.

  He has no clue how he’s gonna get through this day.

  —

  Truth be told, Jus and SJ hadn’t settled on a topic until a couple of weeks ago. They were in her basement. She was sitting cross-legged with her laptop open in this massive wicker chair Mr. F imported from Israel, and Jus was pacing around the pool table, using the cue like a hobbit staff, trying not to ogle her legs.

  He sighed as he passed her again. “Maybe we should just do the stereotype threat thing. We’ve got a solid argument there.”

  “Yeah, minus the fact that the guy presenting it wasn’t affected at all.” She smirked.

  “Well, we gotta pick somethin’, S,” he said. “Like now. We’re runnin’ out of time—”

  “I know, I know. Give me a sec, okay? I’m working on something.”

  She went back to typing, and Jus’s mind went in a different direction. Over the past couple of days, it’d really sunk in that this would be his and SJ’s final tournament together. When it was over, his excuse for hanging out with her would be kaput.

  And then what would he do?

  He glanced over at her again. She was rockin’ her glasses with her hair in a messy knot. His favorite way for her to be. Yeah, just last night he’d been at Melo’s—and definitely not for anything academic—but being around SJ was just…different. He didn’t wanna let it go but had no clue how to keep it going.

  “Oh my god!”

  “What?”

  “I think I’ve got it! C’mere!” She uncrossed her legs and made room for him in the chair.

  As he squeezed in beside her and felt her whole left side pressed against his right, he had to take a clandestine deep breath—she smelled like fruit and flowers—and force himself to focus.

  “So check this out,” she said, rotating the screen so he could see it. “The Myth of the Superpredator” was the title of the article. “The gist of this: back in the nineties, some big-shot researchers predicted that the number of violent crimes committed by African American teen males would skyrocket in the years to follow. The ‘leading authority’ on the matter dubbed these potential criminals superpredators.”

  Justyce already knew about the superpredator myth—he’d stumbled upon the whole thing while trying to deal with his own profiling trauma. But he let SJ keep going because when would he get to see her all absorbed in debate research and talking a million miles per minute again? He’d miss this.