Dear Martin Page 7

  Jus: Man, don’t even say nothing to me right now.

  Manny draws back. “Excuse me? Don’t say nothin’ to you?”

  Jus: You’re just as bad as they are.

  Manny: What are you talking about? I don’t know where all this me against the world shit is comin’ from but you really need to check yourself.

  Jus: These dudes disrespect you—disrespect us—all the time, and you never say anything about it. You just go along with whatever they say.

  Manny: These are my friends, Jus. You’re way too sensitive, man.

  Jus: Lemme guess: that’s what they said when you took offense at some racist joke, right?

  Manny: Bruh, you trippin’ hard. You need to go cool off or somethin’.

  Justyce shakes his head. Looks Manny over from head to toe. “You know what, Manny? You’re a sellout. Good luck at Morehouse next year.” He shoves through the crowd and makes his way to the back door with people murmuring as he goes. Just before he pulls it open, he hears, “Thanks for ruining my birthday, asshole!”

  Justyce trudges up the hill. Starts walking in the direction he thinks will lead him out of Blake’s megamansion neighborhood. He’s still drunk and can’t see straight, but if he can find his way back to the main road, he can find his way back to school.

  He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking or how far he’s gone before a navy Range Rover pulls up beside him.

  “Get in,” Manny says from inside.

  “Naw, man. I’m good.”

  “Jus, it’s thirty degrees and you’re going the wrong damn way. Stop being a jackass and get in the car.”

  “I said no, Manny.”

  Manny’s car jerks forward and suddenly whips into Justyce’s path.

  “What the hell, man? You tryna hit me?”

  “Get in the damn car, Jus!”

  Justyce clenches his jaw.

  “Dawg, if you care anything about this friendship, you will get your punk ass in the car right now.”

  Manny looks at Jus.

  Jus looks at Manny.

  Manny reaches over and opens the passenger door.

  Jus turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction.

  January 19

  DEAR MARTIN,

  You know, I don’t get how you did it. Just being straight up. Every day I walk through the halls of that elitist-ass school, I feel like I don’t belong there, and every time Jared or one of them opens their damn mouth, I’m reminded they agree. Every time I turn on the news and see another black person gunned down, I’m reminded that people look at me and see a threat instead of a human being.

  There was some white dude on TV after the Tavarrius Jenkins thing broke talking about how cases like his and Shemar Carson’s “deflect from the issue of black-on-black crime,” but how are black people supposed to know how to treat each other with respect when since we were brought over here, we’ve been told we’re not respectable?

  What the hell are we supposed to do, Martin? What am I supposed to do? Be like Manny and act like there’s nothing wrong with a white dude asking his “niggas” to help him exploit a black girl? Do I just take what they dish out, try to stop being “so sensitive”? What do I do when my very identity is being mocked by people who refuse to admit there’s a problem?

  I know I did the wrong thing tonight, but right now I can’t find it in me to be remorseful. Those assholes can’t seem to care about being offensive, so why should I give a damn about being agreeable?

  I gotta say: I’ve been reading your sermons and studying your books for six months now, and it feels like all I have to show for it is frustration and a sense of defeat. I swear I heard some girl ask “Why are black people so angry all the time?” as I left Blake’s house, but how else am I supposed to feel?

  My hand hurts. I’m going to bed.

  —JM

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

  Justyce rolls over onto his back and gropes around for his cell phone. Squints at the glaringly bright screen. Seventeen missed calls, four voice mails, and nine text messages from a combo of Manny, Mama, and Melo.

  More knocking, then: “Jus? You in there?”

  He groans. “Justyce McAllister is unavailable, please leave a message.”

  “It’s Dr. Dray, man. Open up.”

  Doc?

  Justyce sits up too fast and his forehead smacks against something hard. “Oww!” he shouts.

  “Jus, you all right?”

  “Door’s open,” he says. Before his head clears enough for him to figure out where he is and how he got here, Doc is squatting near his feet. “Rough night?”

  The underside of his mahogany desk swims into focus.

  So does the realization that his pants are around his shins.

  “Oh shit!” He scrambles from beneath the desk and stands to pull them up, but his head throbs so intensely, he stumbles.

  “Whoa there.” Doc positions the desk chair behind him. “Have a seat.”

  Once he does, Doc pulls a bottle of Gatorade from his bag and passes it to Jus. “Drink,” he says. “All of it. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

  Jus turns the bottle up. “What time is it?” he asks between swigs.

  “According to that clock beside you, it’s eleven-eleven.” Doc smiles. “Make a wish. Or do kids not do that these days? I can’t keep up with y’all.”

  Justyce peers around the room. There’s sunlight streaming through the pieces of tissue paper Braselton Preparatory Academy calls curtains. The thought of it makes his head throb again.

  He also needs to throw up. “Uhh…’Scuse me,” he says, falling out of the chair in the direction of the bathroom.

  There goes the Gatorade.

  He flushes, splashes some cold water on his face, and takes a good look in the mirror.

  That’s when it hits him: Doc just found me under the desk in my dorm room with my pants down.

  Is he dreaming?

  “Uhh…Doc? You still there?”

  “Yep.”

  Jus gulps. “You, umm…got any plans for this fine Saturday?”

  “Come on out here, Jus.”

  Dang it. “Do I have to?”

  “No. But it’d definitely be in your best interests.”

  Jus takes himself in one more time and shakes his head.

  Doc is sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped at the edge of Jus’s perfectly made bed (which reminds Jus he didn’t sleep in it. He shakes his head again). Doc smiles. Nods toward the desk chair. “Talk to me, Jus,” he says once Justyce is seated.

  Jus runs his hands down his face. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Just wanna know what’s up. I got a call from Manny a couple of hours ago. He’s really worried about you.”

  Jus snorts.

  Doc smiles. “He told me you’d do that.”

  “Whatever. That dude don’t know me.”

  Doc’s expression turns serious. “Tell me what happened, man.”

  “You mean Manny didn’t tell you when he called to tattle on me?”

  Doc doesn’t say a word to that. Just stares at Justyce with his piercing green eyes. There’s no judgment in them at all.

  With Doc eyeing him like that, last night floods Jus’s memory, and the ache in his bruised knuckles seems to intensify. He drops his chin. “I messed up, Doc.”

  “How so?”

  Jus looks up. “Manny really didn’t tell you anything?”

  Doc pulls his phone from his pocket, taps the screen a few times, then holds it up. Manny’s voice pours out of the speaker: Mornin’, Dr. Dray. Don’t mean to bother you on a Saturday…I was wondering if you’d mind going by the dorm to check on Justyce. He’s going through some things and I’m, uhh…Well, he’s not answering his phone, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me. If you could just pop by there and make sure he’s all right, I’d really appreciate it. Room two seventeen.

  “When I called him back to get more info,” Doc says, “all he said wa
s the two of you had a little to drink and there was a disagreement. He thought you could probably use someone to talk to.”

  Jus doesn’t reply.

  “So what’s up, man? Why would Manny think you don’t wanna see him?”

  Justyce scratches his head. He needs a haircut. “I got drunk, Doc.”

  “I figured as much.” Doc points to the empty Gatorade bottle.

  “I got drunk and made the mistake of going to Blake Benson’s house. Some stuff set me off, and I just…I really messed up, man.”

  “Care to expound?”

  Justyce sighs. “Ever since my run-in with that cop, I’ve been on high alert. Noticing stuff I would’ve glossed over or tried to ignore before.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “This might sound dumb, but I started this…project,” Jus says. “For the past six months, I’ve been studying Dr. King’s stuff again and trying to apply it? I’ve, uhh…” He looks up at Doc. Still no judgment there. “I’ve been writing letters to him in a notebook.”

  “That what’s on your desk?”

  Jus looks over his shoulder at the blue composition book with Dear Martin in the white space. “Yeah.”

  Doc nods. “Go on.”

  “Well, it was going fine, I guess, but then…Remember how I told you my dad passed when I was eleven?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, he had PTSD from the military and was an alcoholic. When he was alive, he would drink too much and go into these rages, and he, umm…well, he would hit my mom.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Jus.”

  Jus shrugs. “Was what it was. I caught a glimpse of his eyes one time—there was nothing in them. It was almost like he wasn’t even in his body, like his fists and feet were on autopilot and his brain had checked out.”

  Doc nods.

  “I think something like that happened last night. I remember being pissed about some stuff in Blake’s basement, and then he came over to me and Manny and said something that just pushed me over the edge. Words were exchanged, and then the next thing I remember, my hand was killing me, and Blake and Jared were getting up from the floor.”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah.” Jus chuckles. “I feel like I shouldn’t be tellin’ you this because it’s gonna get me expelled.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re ‘taking responsibility.’ That’s tenet four of the B-Prep honor code, isn’t it?” Doc grins.

  “I guess it is. Anyway, it’s scary to think about now. The last person I ever wanna be like is my dad. Dude died in a fiery car crash with a blood-alcohol level of point two five. But last night I was just like him. I swear I’m never drinking again, man.”

  Doc laughs. “That’s a good start.”

  “And then Manny…” Jus shakes his head. “I just don’t get why he puts up with those assholes—” He looks up. “Oh. Sorry.”

  Doc smiles. “It’s okay. We’re in your domain. You were saying?”

  “I know it’s dumb, but when I hear him agree with those guys on stuff he has to know is wrong…I dunno, Doc.”

  Doc doesn’t respond.

  “Pretty sure I called him a sellout,” Jus says. “Right now, I’m still so mad at him, I don’t even feel bad about it. I know he probably wasn’t trying to take their side last night, but for him to get on me after the stuff Blake and Jared said? It’s like he doesn’t even care that they’re disrespecting him. Or me.”

  Doc nods. “Mind if I play devil’s advocate for a sec? Don’t want to dismiss your sentiments, just wanna give you a little perspective.”

  “Okay.”

  “So I grew up like Manny. Until I hit the tenth grade and transferred to a magnet academy in the city, I was the only person of color at my school. You remember how it felt to realize you only have so much control over how people see you?”

  “How could I forget?” Jus rubs his wrists.

  “That’s what it was like for me at the new school. Everybody saw me as black, even with the light skin and green eyes. The black kids expected me to know all the cultural references and slang, and the white kids expected me to ‘act’ black. It was a rude awakening for me. When you spend your whole life being ‘accepted’ by white people, it’s easy to ignore history and hard to face stuff that’s still problematic, you feel me?”

  “I guess.”

  “And as for you, the only way you’re gonna thrive is if you’re okay with yourself, man. People are gonna disrespect you, but so what? Guys like Jared don’t have any bearing on how far you get in life. If you know the stuff they’re saying isn’t true, why let it bother you?”

  Jus shakes his head. “I respect what you’re saying, but it’s not that simple.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s frustrating, man! When you work hard and earn your way, and people suggest you haven’t and you’re not worthy, that shit hurts, Doc.”

  “Course it does, Jus. But who are you doing it for? Them? Or you?”

  Jus puts his head in his hands.

  “Another quick story,” Doc says. “In grad school, I had this massive ’fro. Usually wore it in cornrows. I’ll never forget the way my doctoral advisor frowned when I stepped into his office for the first time. Throughout my entire PhD candidacy, he was hypercritical of my work. Told me to my face I’d never succeed. Jus, if I’d listened to him, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”

  Justyce sighs.

  “I’ll let you get some rest,” Doc says, rising from the bed. He puts another bottle of Gatorade and a ziplock bag with two pills in it on the bedside table. “Got you some ibuprofen from the infirmary. Try to stay hydrated, all right?”

  Justyce nods. “Thanks for coming by to check on me, Doc.”

  “Anytime, my man.” Doc shakes Jus’s shoulder.

  As Doc pulls his bag strap across his chest and turns to leave, Justyce glances over at his phone. Remembers all the missed calls and messages—and the lack thereof from a certain former debate partner.

  “Doc, let me ask you something.”

  Doc turns and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Shoot.”

  “Do you…uhh…” Am I really about to ask this? “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well…” What exactly is he supposed to say?

  “This about SJ?” Doc says.

  Justyce’s eyebrows lift.

  Doc laughs. “You think I didn’t notice the change between you two?”

  “It sucks, Doc.” Jus drops his chin.

  “She’ll come around. Get some rest, okay?”

  “Yeah. All right.”

  Jus gets up and goes over to fall on the bed as Doc pulls the door open.

  He’s asleep before he hears it click shut.

  On Tuesday, Manny and Jared are both missing from Societal Evolution.

  Lunch too. Justyce sees Tyler, Kyle, and Blake—who scowls at Jus but keeps his distance—huddled around a table in the senior lounge, whispering.

  As the day goes on, there’s an ever-increasing buzz, though Justyce never catches what people are murmuring because they go quiet whenever he gets too close. So when he’s walking to the dorm after classes are over and he sees the bros huddled around Jared’s car without Manny, he knows something is up.

  Especially when Jared turns to give Jus the evil eye, and Jus sees his face.

  Now, Jus knows he and Jared came to blows, but could he have caused that much damage? Dude looks like half his mug got attacked by a swarm of angry hornets.

  When he gets back to his room, Justyce does the unthinkable: he calls Manny.

  Of course the guy doesn’t answer.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” Jus says, dropping down into his desk chair. As he pulls out his notebook to skim the letter he wrote Martin after Blake’s party, he hears the door open and close before the bedsprings squeak.

  When he turns around, he almost falls out of the chair. “Dawg!”

  Manny is stretched out on Ju
styce’s bed with his hands tucked behind his head. His left hand is all taped up, and it appears one of Jared’s hornets got him in the upper lip.

  “Whoa,” Jus says.

  Manny just stares at the ceiling.

  Something pops into Jus’s head: Manny pushing open the passenger door of the Range Rover and telling him to get in.

  “Hey, man, I—”

  “Save it. I know you didn’t mean it.”

  Mmmm…“Actually, I did,” Jus says.

  Manny shifts his attention to Jus and lifts his eyebrows.

  “I just didn’t really consider the bigger picture,” Jus says. “That’s what I’m apologizing for. Not putting myself in your shoes or whatever.”

  Manny turns back to the ceiling. “I didn’t really have your best interests in mind either, so let’s call it even and move on.”

  Jus nods. “Cool.”

  After about half a minute, the silence gets awkward. Jus cracks his knuckles. “So what happened to your lip?”

  “I woke up.”

  “Okay…” Jus decides to take a page from Doc’s book: “Care to expound a bit?”

  Manny smiles but then grimaces in pain. After a few seconds, he sits up and turns to face Justyce. “You know why I couldn’t really get mad about what you said? You were right. I knew you were right the moment the words came outta your mouth.”

  “Oh,” Jus says.

  “Saturday night, I went to a festival with those clowns. Four times, man—four—I had to grit my teeth to keep from knocking Jared’s punk ass out. Every time he made fun of somebody, it was like sandpaper being dragged over my eardrums.”

  “Dang.”

  “When we saw this black lady with four kids, and this fool called her Shaniqua and made a joke about baby daddies, I couldn’t take any more, Jus. I called him on it, and he rolled his eyes. Told me to ‘stop being so fucking sensitive.’ ”

  Jus doesn’t say anything.

  “All day Sunday, I sat in my basement, just fuming. I think I listened to Deuce Diggs and played Medal of Honor for like six hours straight. The whole time, all I could think about was how I said the same thing to you. How right you were. How good of a friend you’ve been—”

  “All right with all that soft stuff, Manny.”

  “I’m serious, Jus. Them fools don’t wanna hear when they’re being offensive. They couldn’t care less what it’s like to live in our skin. Those assholes aren’t my damn friends.”