The last of the footage includes Jamal’s records rolling up the screen. He’s compared to competitive world athletes with Olympic gold medals. Then they show Jamal’s last track meet of the season, where he beat the boys’ high school track record, tying the long-standing 1996 college record. I feel like I’m there again. The crowd cheered so loud it shook the bleachers. You knew something special was about to happen. Jamal dropped to his knees when the scoreboard confirmed the new record.
“You know what you gonna say?” Corinne asks.
“Do I know what I’m gonna say?” Jamal bends down to Corinne so he can whisper. “You got advice for me, baby sis?”
“Don’t say ummm.”
I burst out a laugh, then cover my mouth when Mama nudges me.
“That all you got?”
“You say ummm a lot when you’re nervous.” Corinne shrugs and takes Mama’s hand.
“You hear her, Tracy?” Jamal elbows me. “I don’t say ummm a lot.”
“You kinda do.” I smirk.
“Yoooo. You wrong for saying that right before my interview. You know what’s gonna be stuck in my head now, right?”
“Yip,” I say. “Ummmm.”
“Ummmm,” Corinne joins in. We sound like a chorus at the side of the stage.
“Knock it off now, girls.” Mama wags her finger at us.
Angela cuts between us, gesturing for Jamal to follow her onto the studio’s stage while we take a seat offstage. Jamal gives her a wink when she wishes him good luck. Her cheeks go pink. He can always make someone feel special. Daddy says he’s got a heart of gold. I just wish he wouldn’t throw it around so easily.
I watch Chris in the shadows. White privilege at its finest. Today he’s exhibiting classic toxic masculinity. I can tell Angela doesn’t want him here, but he’s too arrogant to think different. He acts that way in school, too, like he could get away with anything, since his dad is sheriff.
Poised and ready, Susan Touric faces the camera marked NBS ONE. She looks like all the white newscasters they have at this station except the rotating weather girls of color. Susan’s dressed in a white blouse and a gaudy necklace of choice for the day. Her silky black hair is coiffed in a bob around her fake-tanned skin, and pink lipstick matches the color of her glasses.
The crew shifts into movement. The spotlight zooms in. The producer gives her a hand signal near the teleprompter. A green light blinks, and Susan plasters on a smile. On cue, the music begins. My heart now beats at a rapid pace.
“Reporting live here at NBS World News. If you’re just tuning in, we’ve been highlighting top scholar athletes across the country. I have the pleasure of introducing a local star: the number one track athlete in the state of Texas, soon to be high school grad, Jamal Beaumont.”
Jamal’s dark brown skin shines as he flashes a wide smile. He sits lean and tall in a closely tailored dark blue suit, white shirt, and red tie he saved up for so Mama wouldn’t worry about the cost.
The camera loves him. My stomach twists because I need the interview to bring attention to Daddy’s case, but it’ll take away from Jamal. I hope he’ll forgive me once he realizes what I’m trying to do.
Bring Daddy home.
Alive.
“When did you first start running?” Susan leans forward and rests her hand on her chin. The same way she begins every interview.
“You’re going to have to ask my mama, because I swear I came out running.”
Mama laughs, nudging me, then mouths, It’s true. It’s true.
I chuckle. Mama’s loving every second of this.
“When you’re not running, you’re also working at a local radio station and have your own show Thursday evenings.”
“Yes. I love it. I’m planning to major in communications and media.”
“One day you could be interviewing me.”
“That’s my sister’s thing. I’m more behind the scenes. Audio engineering.”
“Brains and brawn, huh?”
He gives her a modest smile. Susan eats it up.
“Do track stars run in the family? There’s usually more than one. Am I right?”
Jamal swallows, stopping for a millisecond, but I’m sure only Mama and I notice.
“The men in the family have those genes for sure.”
Jamal’s talking about Daddy. Before we moved to Texas, Daddy had his own track glory days in New Orleans. His name kept his hometown business afloat in tough times, with customers wanting to help him out. After the flood, all that was lost. People left, and the local history was forgotten. Life was still hard a decade after Hurricane Katrina, so when Hurricane Veronica hit, we also left for good.
We evacuated to Texas, but Daddy never ran again. During his trial, they said it was his speed that got him all the way across town so quick. Daddy’s fast, but he’s not Superman fast.
I watch Jamal, nervous with how he’ll handle this.
“Well, they must be proud,” Susan says.
“He is.” Jamal hesitates after he says “he.” He looks directly into the camera, and I smile at his secret way of acknowledging Daddy, and his ability to sidestep additional questions is impressive. Jamal’s not going to let this interview go down like that.
I’m both proud and nervous. I bite my lip, regretting that I tried all week to persuade him to use this as an opportunity to talk about Daddy’s appeal. Now Jamal’s guarded, each word carefully crafted to avoid Daddy coming up.
“One thing I love about highlighting you, Jamal, is that you could have chosen to go anywhere in the country, but you chose Baylor. Everyone thought you were going to Track Town, Oregon, or North Carolina. Why Baylor?”
“I’m a mama’s boy. Plain and simple. Got my two sisters over there.” Jamal points to us. “And I can be home in less than four hours if I need to. What can I say?”
“I’m sure your family loves that you’ll be close. Let’s bring them out now.”
Angela leads Mama to the stage, where she sits next to Jamal. Corinne squishes in, and I end up at the edge of the couch.
The hot lights beam down on me. I’m dizzy now, with one thing on my mind.
The thing everyone here is thinking about, the thing that hasn’t been said but that’s boiling near the surface.
“Let’s meet your sister Corinne.”
Corinne’s round face immediately goes blank; her eyes bulge, like they’re about to pop.