Forty-two Minutes Read online

  Putting out a once a month newspaper as teenagers was difficult. There was always a teacher or someone telling us what we could or couldn’t say, but they were the same ones teaching us about censorship and how the great writers of the world did it. They described them as fearless, visionaries. However, they wanted us to idly listen and be inspired but not act. I’m not sure how those two went together, if they even did. I tried to inform the school of current events but not enough to keep administration on my back about it. It was a delicate dance of keeping two sides happy and one I knew well.

  Tunica Rivers High School sat on the edge of town where the big houses were. Our cottage house somehow made it just past the county line touching the border, otherwise, I would’ve gone to the neighborhood high school, which wasn’t the best. Mila walked in with her small car keys swinging in her hand.

  “Ya’ll kissing again?” she rolled her eyes.

  Mila was my favorite white girl. She had long brown hair, and she’s played softball ever since she was a kid, so she has those super toned legs. I told her she was the thickest white girl I’ve ever seen, but she never sees that as a compliment. Funny, what one thinks is a compliment another sees as their sore spot.

  Mila sat her bag next to me and leaned closer. “I need your help with something, Indy.”

  “What, you pregnant!?” My eyes widened.

  She snatched my arm and said, “Shut up!”

  We giggled.

  “I filled out the application for City College, but they need a $50 fee. Can you help me?”

  I froze. When I joined the Newspaper Club, she joined, too, even though she preferred the photography editorials and excelled at those. When Mila told her mom, Ms. Janet, she wanted to go to college and maybe even take up photography, Ms. Janet flat out told her they couldn’t afford it, and she should get a job down in the factory with her and their family. Mila never asked her again about anything college related, but we helped each other as best as we could. That was our secret we shared.

  “Of course, girl. I thought you had something serious to say,” I nodded.

  She shrugged her shoulders. She never wanted to talk long about the important things. Mila and I were probably an odd pair. Admittedly, she was my only close white friend, and I loved her, nonetheless. When she and I were in elementary school, I was on the playground and my fake ponytail and bang combo flew off my head while I was mid cartwheel. The ribbons and butterfly clips Mom added in remained, but the white teachers who knew nothing about a pony-and-bang combo stood around with my hair in their hands discussing what to do. Eventually they sent me to the main office with my hair labeled in a zip lock bag. The secretaries in the front office were the only Black staff in the building, and I guess they thought it smart to let us handle us.

  When I moped into the office, I met the prettiest white girl with the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Mila.

  I heard her pleading to one of the secretaries, “Please Mrs. Johnson, I’ll pay it back. My mom didn’t have the money this week.”

  “I’m sorry, Mila, but those are the rules. You can’t keep borrowing lunch money from the school and not paying it back. Tell your mom to send us a check to make your account current. You’ll have to eat the brown bag lunch today.” Mrs. Johnson closed and locked her big book of negative lunch accounts.

  I had a few extra bucks that day Dad had stuffed in my pocket, and I bought Mila a bag of chips during lunch. We were best friends from then on.

  Loud crunching sounds escaped Malachi while he ate his chips and flipped through articles, still with no computer turned on. Mila and I peeked at his greasy fingers from here and we rolled our eyes. I handed him a napkin and with no words, he took it from me and grinned.

  I peeked my head outside of the room when Will, and all six foot five inches of him, came barreling through the door so fast he almost ran me down.

  “What the hell, Will! Damn!” I yelped.

  “Ugh, Indy! My fault, I didn’t even see you there.” His height made him tower over people. Will steadied me as I fell into him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Malachi not flinch or make a move. He was too busy eating his chips—now with headphones on.

  I rolled my eyes. He never paid attention.

  Malachi works at the movie theater, and I loved the cinema. Watching movies was the equivalent to reading books; I saw the words on paper and now I got to see them translated onto the big screen. Every Tuesday during the summer, they had a buy one movie and get one free deal in town. I was first in line for the matinee every Tuesday. Although the four of us had always been friends, Malachi and I grew close that summer—through the movies. We began dating. Not long after, Will and Mila tried their hand at dating. I’m not sure what happened, because each of them don’t speak on it often, but Will said they were better off as friends and nothing more. Even Mila was tight-lipped about it, and she was never tight-lipped about anything. I glimpsed something in Mila’s eye when Will walked into the room. I wondered what that was about. My calendar alert on my phone went off, reminding me that our meeting started in fifteen minutes. We were still waiting for a few people to arrive.

  “Indy, I picked this up for you the other day at the flea market.” Will handed me a small clay piece. Lifting it up, I examined the imperfect cracks and examined its glaze. It was clay molded in the shape of a letter I.

  “Thanks, Will, this is so cool,” I whispered. Will knew my mom and I used to throw pottery together. I mentioned it one day while we were sitting by the water out back at my house.

  “Mila, look at this,” I waved her over.

  She sashayed towards us and examined the piece. “Cute.” Looking up at Will, she punched him in the arm. “Awww, he’s Drakin’ again.”

  Will’s face flushed as he shushed Mila. They walked away together, laughing.

  After their breakup, Mila decided Will was emotional, and because he was considered high yellow with his tan skin, he reminded her of Drake. Every time he did something that Mila deemed soft, she called it ‘Drakin.’ I thought it was sweet, but Mila put him on blast about it now and then.

  Sometimes they could be weird.

  When I thought I figured out their friendship or relationship, they both threw me off in some way. I was just glad we were still the foursome, at least for the rest of this year before we graduated and things changed.

  The rest of the team arrived, and I stood at the front of the room, glancing everyone over. Shantiel was here. She was always first. Nico and Trish Ann. Good. Everyone was here.

  “I think we should jump right into the Spring Fling; that’s the first thing we have to cover.” Trish Ann blurted from her seat. Her gum snapped loudly.

  I peeped at Shantiel. She shook her head and pursed her lips at Trish Ann. These two.

  Shantiel was a junior, but she was about her business. If she played her cards right, she could be the next editor in her senior year; she was the only one who was serious enough to take the helm.

  “We still have another three months before we need to cover that,” Shantiel reminded. “What else will we write about until then?”

  Trish Ann slumped in her seat.

  “We could do a countdown. Something like, all the events that take place beforehand and the preparation that goes into planning something like Spring Fling?” Malachi suggested.

  Malachi’s assessment was partially correct. We could cover the preparation beforehand, but he described the event as little Coachella. Spring Fling was always a one last-hoorah party chaperoned by staff members in a rented hall. How wild could things get?

  “Plus, this year Jaxon Green said his parents will pay for everything,” Malachi added.

  I stopped talking. “Pay for everything?”

  A portion of the Newspaper Club stipend was always used to help pay for Spring Fling. This year we wanted it to be nice and go out with a bang. With Jaxo
n Green footing the bill, maybe that was possible.

  “I was going to tell you later, he wants to meet with you to go over the details. I invited him to the meeting today, but I guess he couldn’t make it,” Malachi reported.

  “But why would he want to do that?” Mila questioned.

  Exactly, I thought. Jaxon Green was one of the rich kids in town. He and Malachi played on the football team together and now he was offering to foot the bill? Didn’t make sense. And why does he want to meet with me?

  Malachi must’ve read my mind. He said, “He wants to meet with you because he said he has some project he wants you to help him with for college. Said his mom follows your newspaper column and thinks you can help. I guess she’s a fan.”

  Wow… I mused. Besides the school newspaper, I wrote a monthly teen blog for our Tunica Rivers Times. I didn’t know the newspaper had that kind of reach. Jaxon Green and his parents were loaded, and somehow, they found my small articles.

  “Okay,” I finally nodded. Maybe we could use Jaxon Green as an option.

  I turned back to the whiteboard and began writing. “I like all of those ideas, but we still need more.”

  “We always have our old faithful,” Nico suggested. “We could rent the banquet hall in town.”

  “Nahhh,” we all groaned.

  We have held events for so long at the old banquet hall in town that my mom told me that when she was in high school at TRHS, she wrote her phone number in the third stall from the right, in the men’s bathroom. One night we were there for a school event, and I couldn’t help myself. I was with Will and he said he would go look for the number since it was the men’s bathroom, but I had to see for myself. While Will held watch at the door, I entered the men’s bathroom third stall. Sure enough, I found my Mom’s name and handwriting. I traced it with my finger, pretending I was her that long ago.

  “Did you find it?” Will asked with wide eyes.

  I grinned and nodded. Memories of my mom were everywhere and in everything.

  I snapped out of my thoughts. “Shantiel, how is it looking for the college corner for the football team?”

  Shantiel shuffled through her notebook before landing on a full page of words. “It looks like we’re interviewing one of them so far, Eric Lagares.”

  “Just one?”

  “No one else signed up,” she lifted an eyebrow.

  Shantiel and Will were interviewing incoming senior football players who were interviewing the outgoing senior football players. School do’s and don’ts. This piece was one of the school’s most popular, and I put Mila in charge of the flyer and interviews.

  “How can we only have one sign up? The flyer has been out for over two weeks, right, Mila?” I turned towards her. And why didn’t Malachi sign up? He was on the team too.

  “Uhhh… Malachi and I swapped assignments.” Mila looked down and said nothing else.

  “Why would y’all make that change and not tell me?”

  “I meant to tell you,” Mila said. “It was my fault. I forgot. I got sidetracked and I figured since Malachi was on the team, he could just ask them.”

  My eye twitched.

  She swapped tasks with Malachi, and now, we had one person signed up for the event when this time last year we had at least a dozen.

  “Malachi? Anything?” I turned towards him, and he was chugging down juice. He gulped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I forgot, Indy. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the guys today and have some of them sign up.”

  Malachi tried hard, but he was definitely our weakest link. Sometimes if I gave him an assignment, he would return it with large parts of the story missing. He had names and dates wrong. We had to issue a retraction once based on him dishing out incorrect information. This was our senior year, and I just couldn’t bring myself to fire my boyfriend in the fourth quarter, so I let him stay. But like Santa, I made a list and had to check it twice with Malachi.

  “I mean, do we have to do that article?” Will asked.

  My fist gripped the computer chair as I swung my head around. “Seriously, Will?”

  “Hear me out, I’m just saying. They’ve done that same article in the exact same way for years. Why not switch it up?”

  “And what do you suggest? Trish-Ann quizzed.

  “This has always been the final senior piece. It’s always been that way,” I scoffed.

  “I don’t know, Indy. I have no ideas. I’m just saying, let’s do something different.”

  I rolled my eyes at Will. “Yes, we have to do it. It’s tradition and administration loves this one.”

  Will leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

  “Is there anything we’re missing from any of the other pieces? So, everyone knows what they’re supposed to do?” This question was really for Malachi since we already established at our last meeting the articles we would write. I glanced around the room. “Malachi?”

  Everyone shook their heads no, and Malachi choked a little on his sunflower seeds when I said his name.

  “Yes, I’m on it, Indy.” He gave me a nod and a salute.

  “Okay, good meeting guys, let’s get started with our assignments.” I closed my book.

  The team gathered their bags and shuffled out of the room.

  “Anyone want to grab burgers?” Will raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m always down for that,” Malachi rubbed his stomach. He never paid attention to anything unless it involved food.

  I placed my things in my bag without saying a word.

  “C’mon, babe. I’m sorry,” Malachi said. “Let’s fight it out over burgers.”

  “I’ll drive,” Mila offered, flashing a smile now. She said little during the meeting, and even though she smiled, her eyes looked far away.

  “Fine, let’s go.”

  Mila and I walked out together with the boys in front of us.

  “I’m sorry girl, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “You good?” I stopped her in the hallway. “For real?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she nodded. “It’s just this college thing.”

  “You know I got you. We’ll figure that out.”

  Mila gave a pensive smile.

  “Y’all still back there having your catfight? Let’s roll.” Malachi danced. Will towered next to him, waiting for us.

  I loved my crew. Flaws and all.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Indy-Lindy!” Ez bellowed. He made his way towards me in his canoe. The small boat treaded through the water one smooth stroke after another, as Grandpa Ez’s glide was graceful and strong. I beamed hearing his voice and giggled to myself. He was grunting with each paddle. Taking the same route every day, he sliced through the water with ease. Ez was born for the outdoors. He didn’t slow when approaching the shore and with a loud “umph!” he slid into the sandy area next to the house.

  Saturday mornings at our house brought a visit to Mom at Trochesse Asylum and a visit from Grandpa Ez. Sidney was still in her bedroom preparing for the day and Dad was working overtime until seven o’clock tonight. When he left this morning, it was still dark. Dad preferred to visit Mom by himself anyway. I think he doesn’t want us to know how often he makes his way up there. Every two weeks Sidney, Ez, and I made the trip to see mom. I enjoy the scenery because it’s the only time I get out of Tunica Rivers. Watching the seasons change and checking out car bumper stickers was a welcomed change of pace. When we drove, I thought about the other people on the highway. Were they good folk? What kind of secrets did they hold?

  “Where is SidRock?” Ez demands. His eye twinkles and his lips curled. Grandpa Ez’s voice boomed loudly, and to people who didn’t know him, he was probably scary. I knew him better though. That boom was laced with love for us. He called Sidney, SidRock. He explained, “She’s a kid, and she’s my little kid rock—
that’s my SidRock.” Just stuck, I guess.

  “She’s still getting ready,” I told Grandpa Ez. He pulled me towards him in a big bear hug and lifted me off my feet. My sneakers slid across the dampened sand and Ez squeezed the wind out of my chest.

  “Grandpa Ez, how long did it take you to cut across the lake today?”

  Today Ez wore a stained white t-shirt and khaki pants cuffed at his ankles. He pulled a pocket watch from his pants and it creaked open. “Oh, about twenty minutes.”

  “Oh, about twenty minutes,” he says. He spent more time on the water than anyone in Tunica Rivers—and we were water people. It took thirty minutes by car to get to Ez’s house from ours, but he preferred the water. His muscular arms told on him, and his dark brown skin looked almost black when he came gliding through the water at night. Mama Jackie passed away a few years ago, and Dad says Ez ain’t been right since he lost her. I don’t think any of us are.

  “Ez, are you wearing that?” I glanced at his t-shirt.

  Ez looked down at himself and back at me. “What’s wrong with this, girl?”

  “Nothing.”

  I patted my pockets and realized I didn’t have my cell phone. I ran back in the house and grabbed it and saw a missed call from an unsaved number. It also texted me.

  Unknown: Hey this is Jaxon. I got your number from Malachi. Sorry I missed the meeting— something came up. Can we get together soon? I have an opportunity for you.

  An opportunity? I paused. What could he have that was an opportunity for me? I was busting my ass to make it through high school and then college, and then to watch Sidney do the same. Jaxon came from money, had money, and he would probably make even more money without trying. I envied people like him. They never seemed to worry about the hard things because it didn’t seem hard to them. No roadblocks—just opportunities.