I walk over. I have to pass through a small group of people waving signs that say things about history and Sylvia Mendez and diversity.
It is obvious the signs are supporting the school name change—which means they don’t really have anything to do with me.
“Uh, sorry for yelling at you at lunch,” I tell Aubrey, clenching and unclenching the strap of my messenger bag.
“That’s okay,” he says. He reaches up and twists a small piece of that wild redness flaming on top of his head like he did before. Round and round he twists while he looks at me, and then he asks, “Can I come over?”
Gee is forever talking to me about two roads and being careful about which one you put your feet on. Staring down at the sidewalk, I can see the two paths clear as day. Part of me wants to tell Aubrey to bother someone else, but another part is sort of curious what it might be like to get to know him better. Maybe I can at least find out why he dyes his hair fire-engine red.
“Sure,” I finally say. “I mean, okay, you can come.”
As we start down the street, Aubrey pulls his phone out of his pocket. I guess he must’ve gotten a message. He shakes his head while reading and then types in a message and puts his phone away, but we don’t get very far before he pulls his phone out again, and this time he sighs before typing another message. Then instead of putting his phone in his pocket, he drops it in his bag. I want to ask him who is sending him so many messages, but it seems nosy and none of my business.
For the rest of the walk, Aubrey talks about an Astrid Dane episode where she runs across a dark frozen lake and the ice cracks and she goes right into that freezing-cold water. No one’s around, and she gets trapped. It’s sort of tragic and beautiful at the same time. Her hair is swirling all around her, and even though she’s underwater and freezing, her eyes are looking up through that frozen dark sheet like she can still see the stars. And she stays there until the lake melts—which doesn’t happen for like seventy-five years. But when it does, Astrid Dane just walks out like she’s been taking a long bath.
“What was she thinking about for all that time?” Aubrey asks.
“I wondered the same thing,” I say, and it comes out a little shaky and breathless because Aubrey gets Astrid Dane like I do.
Once we’re on my street, I can see Gee’s old dirty Mercedes in the driveway. And although I’m glad Gee’s back, I’m not sure anymore about Aubrey coming over. I’m not sure how Aubrey and Gee would mix. I glance at Aubrey, wondering if there’s a way to tell him he can’t come over after all.
“My grandfather’s home,” I say.
“Oh, sway,” Aubrey says.
“Maybe you should come over some other time?” I hate when I want to say something straight out, and it ends up sounding like a question. Like a choice.
“And miss meeting your grandpa? No way.”
Aubrey walks ahead of me, like he’s walking to his house instead of mine. And even though I can’t see it, I just know his big old smile is spread across his face like honey on bread.
19
Nervous and Sizzling
As soon as I open the front door, jazz spills out of the house. Gee is serious about his music. Mama says that’s where Malcolm gets it from, but jazz and hip-hop don’t seem like the same thing at all to me.
I slide past Aubrey and hustle toward the kitchen. I know Gee’s in there, probably humming to his music and starting something delicious for dinner.
I want to make sure I give Gee a heads-up about Aubrey before Gee says anything rude, but I’m not fast enough; Gee comes out of the kitchen carrying a plate of cheese and crackers.
“Nae-nae! Give me some sugar, girl.” He sets the plate on the dining room table and holds his arms out so he can bury me in a big Gee hug, and I plant a loud smacking kiss on his cheek. Gee always says it’s not a kiss at all if you can’t hear it.
There’s no sign of Malcolm; he’s probably up in his room, drowning out Gee’s music with his own.
“Gee, guess what? They’re changing the name of our school.” Even though I’m sure he’s going to be mad my school won’t be named after the Duke anymore, I’m still excited to tell him.
But before Gee can say anything, Aubrey interrupts. “They’re talking about it.”
Gee releases me and eyes Aubrey. “What have you gone and done to your hair?” he asks, as if he’s known Aubrey forever.
I can feel my cheeks burning even though it’s exactly what I’ve been wondering about.
Aubrey is smiling just as wide as ever, but he starts doing his hair-twisting thing, giving himself a tiny horn. I think it’s what he does when he’s nervous. Then he walks over to Gee and sticks out his hand. “Aubrey Banks, sir. A pleasure to meet you.”
Gee looks at the hand for a moment longer than even I know is right, and then he shakes it, giving it a pretty hard squeeze, I guess, because Aubrey’s smile gets shaky for a quick second.
“Gee, Aubrey is . . .” I lose my way right there. I don’t have a single clue what Aubrey is. I look over at Aubrey for help, but his eyes are shining bright at me like he thinks this is pretty funny.
“Well, what is he?” Gee takes a step back, as if he needs to get a better look at Aubrey. “An alien? A cartoon character? A mythical creature from beyond?”
Aubrey laughs at my grandpa’s ridiculousness. “No, sir. Just a . . .” He glances over at me, his eyes still twinkling. “Classmate of Nae-nae’s.”
I don’t mind Gee’s nickname for me, but I sure don’t want Aubrey to call me that. It’s private.
“Jenae.” I say my name loud enough to be heard right over the horns blowing from the stereo speakers. I don’t know why I didn’t think of the word classmate. And I don’t know why I’m sort of mad that that’s the word Aubrey picked.
“Well, classmate of Jenae’s,” Gee starts. “What’s this about the school?”
I don’t know why he’s asking Aubrey when I was the one who told him the big news, even though technically, Aubrey said it better. So before Aubrey can answer, I say, “People don’t like that it’s named after John Wayne. They want to change it to a girl’s name.” I lose my way a bit because I can’t remember the new name. “Sheila somebody?”
“Sylvia,” Aubrey says. “Sylvia Mendez.”
“What type of foolishness is that?” Gee asks.
“She was a big deal when she was a kid. Her parents sued the state . . . or something.” Aubrey scratches his head, and I’m glad to see that he doesn’t know everything. “But anyway, she got to go to a school that was supposed to be just for white kids. They had to integrate.”
“Now I know that’s plain wrong. Brown versus Board of Education did all that. What are they teaching you kids in that school?”
I’ve heard of that Brown case. Gee told me about it. He says it’s important we know all about African American history. “Everybody knows Brown ended segregation,” I tell Aubrey, and roll my eyes. “Click,” I add, to show him how obvious the fact is.
“But Sylvia Mendez was before that,” Aubrey says. He must see the disbelief in our faces, because he adds, “Honest. You can look it up online.”