Count It All Joy, by Ebony Elizabeth Thomas
(The following chapter was taken from "Part II: The Valley of Decision, 1986.)
The oven timer rang, and I reached inside to get out the Texas toast that I had made. After drizzling a little more seasoned butter over the hot, crusty slices, I popped a piece into my mouth just as Peach came in from setting the table.
"Cherie, if you don't stop eating all the damn food, we won't have no dinner for `em," he complained, chewing on a piece of crispy fried chicken that he had made and handing the basket out to me so I could get a wing.
I took a small bite and my taste buds applauded. "Peach, how come you know how to cook? Most guys don't," I said, remembering the time that Angelo burned a piece of toast and set the Dawsons' kitchen on fire.
"Most niggas lazy. My mama, like I said, was different when my real daddy was still alive. She ain't play that gender sh--, like making me and my brothers mow the lawn and take out the trash and having my sisters cook dinner. All eight of us did everything, and if your sh-- was nasty, nine other people talked about you till you came correct."
"I understand that. But this chicken is really good. I mean, Unc owns a whole restaurant and his isn't like this."
He grinned with pleasure. "Aw, that ain't nothing but seasoning salt. And you don't do that bad neither."
"Peach, I started working in a hotel restaurant when I was six. And I'm a girl. We're supposed to be able to cook."
We heard the sound of keys in the door. "Here they come. You go make `em sit, and I'll keep the food hot."
I left the kitchen. Aynie and Unc were in the darkened dining room, smiling at the candlelit, beautiful place settings. "Cherie, what y'all do?" Aynie wanted to know.
"Good evening, madame, sir," I laughed. "Have a seat. Your host, who also happens to be the chef, will seat you."
As I went to the piano in the living room to play some soft dinner music, Peach came out and started clowning.
"May I suggest zee house especial? Chicken a la fried, seasoned weeth zee chez's own secret herbs and spices. Corn on the cob, also grilled. Tossed a-salad, crisp, fresh. Texas toast a la broiled, brushed with butter that melt in your mouth, non? And the house wine… aged, sparkling grape juice..."
"Give me everything on the menu," Aynie laughed.
"Double it for me," Unc said.
After Peach served them, he came out into the living room. "It's time."
I smiled and went to find the instrumental version of Aynie and Unc's favorite song, thinking about the look on their faces when they found out about their nephew what I had a few days ago.
After I put the tape at the right spot and pressed the pause button, Peach went into the dining room. "If you're wondering why we're doing this, since it isn't Christmas or your anniversary or any other holiday, it's not for that. Since there isn't a holiday in the middle of October, we wanted to do this to let y'all know how much we appreciate both of you. And it was both of our idea, so don't think Cherie put me up to it."
I pressed the pause button and raced to hide behind the dining room entryway and started singing. "You're all... I need... to get by..."
Aynie hollered. "No, y'all didn't!"
Unc started chuckling. "Looks like they did, babe."
The tape, which Nikki's mother had made for us, continued with the backup parts. And Peach started singing! He missed the very first line, but came in on the second.
"...I took one look at you, and it was plain to see, you were my destiny!"
Aynie and Unc sat there in shock. I knew they were thinking, this is the same Peach that refuses to open his mouth in the church choir? This is the same Peach that we've never heard sing a note before? No. Can't be. This is an imposter. An imposter with a magnificent voice, but not our nephew, Quentin Darnell Rice.
By the time we got to the second verse, they'd gotten used to the idea and were enjoying our tribute.
"Listen... like an eagle protects its nest, for you I'll do my best, stand by you like a tree, and dare anybody to try'n move me..." Peach sang.
Then I came in, but they heard me sing all the time. After all, all I do is music. "Darlin', in you I found strength when I was torn down, don't know what's in store, but together we can open any door!"
"Oh, oh... baby..."
"I’m here to do what's good for you..."
"Come on, darlin'..."
I grinned. "And inspire you a little higher!"
"Blah blah blah, blah blah... cause I never knew what the hell he was saying." Aynie and Unc cracked up.
Then we sang together. "Cause we, we got the right foundation, and with love and determination... you're all, you're all I, wanna stop for and do a little more, you're all, all the joy under the sun, now know you're the one, you're all, you're all I need..."
"You're all I need..." The harmonizing was perfect. I heard our voices mesh together into one chord.
Then I began Aynie's favorite part. "You're all I need..."
"All!" Peach interjected on "need".
"To get by!" And we ad libbed to the end.
Aynie jumped up and grabbed us while Unc clapped. "Peach, I'm gonna beat your little behind. You been living here for over a year, and didn't nobody know you could sing."
"Y'all never asked," he said solemnly.
"And if we had, you wouldn't have." "Nope."
Later, while we were cleaning up the kitchen, the real Peach returned. "Cherie, if you tell anybody, even Angelo or Nikki, what we did tonight, I'll break both of your legs."
I agreed. "Aw, I won't tell. They wouldn't understand."
Homecoming was on the last weekend of October. I wasn't going to go. Aynie decided that I was old enough to go, since I was in her eyes almost thirteen and in the ninth grade, and I would have had an eleven o' clock curfew. But Nikki, who was going with Vincent Ryder, told me that it wasn't the kind of thing you went to without a date. I didn't expect to ask anybody or to have anybody ask me, so I had all but made up my mind not to go.
About a week and a half before the rally, parade, game, and dance, I was staying after the BAC meeting to help cut up tickets for the talent show. John Winters and Angelo Dawson’s girlfriend Quiana Minter had stayed too. She was going to take us both home.
After we finished stapling ticket books, Quiana went to bring the car around to the front door. John and I were standing there, quietly at first.
Then he asked out of the blue, "Do you have algebra?"
I nodded. "I hate it. I'm not that good at math."
"I'm not, either," he laughed. "And Mr. Caine is a pain in the you-know-what."
"He can't be as bad as Mrs. Clearwell," I groaned. "We're working on linear equations, and she's assigned one hundred problems. I guess since we're in ninth grade, she doesn't expect us to have a social life."
"Speaking of that, are you going to participate in any Homecoming activities?"
"I'm going to the rally and the game, if that's what you mean," I replied. "I'm not going to the dance."
"Your aunt thinks you're too young to go?" A lot of the freshmen weren’t going for that reason.
"No, she says it's okay. I don't have a date."
"Do you want me to take you?"
I didn't dare look at him to see if he was sincere. "I wasn't trying to make you feel sorry for me or anything. You don't have to take me."
He laughed again. He was always laughing, like my best friend Nikki. "I finally got up enough nerve to ask you, and I did it all wrong. Forget what I said earlier, and answer this. Josephine, would you please let me take you to Homecoming?"
My eyes were wide open. Not just from surprise. I knew if I blinked, it would be all over. "Yes, thank you."
I told Peach about it as we washed dishes that evening.
"He know you wont be fourteen till December?" he said deprecatingly.
"Everybody knows how old I am, Peach."
"I'll break his neck," he muttered.
I popped my lips. Oh, he had too much nerve. First of all, he’s barely my cousin, let alone a big brother. And even if he was, he needed to mind his business.
"No, you won't. You don't have anything to do with it."
He hooted. "Oh, so you like this little nigga, hmph?"
"First of all, John is not a nig... that word. Second of all, we are just friends."
"Well, I'm gonna watch his `just friends' at the dance. He better treat you right, or I'll break his little neck."
"Yeah, right! You won't even be paying any attention to him or me. You'll have your tongue stuck down Deirdre Smith's throat."
"Don't try to change the subject. I think you're too young to be dating, and I'm gonna tell Aynie that."
Aynie didn't care about Peach. We went shopping for a dress. I was looking at girls' styles, but Aynie took me over to the juniors' department in Hudson's.
"You are a size three," she said. "And whether or not you know it, you getting a cute little shape."
She was exaggerating! In the past year, I've gotten a little meat on my bones, and I'm not exactly flat-chested anymore. But I'm still swimming in 32AA's. And my behind is almost nonexistent.
The last dress I tried on I liked the best. It was a gauzy pink, strapless, and had a flared skirt. There were rhinestone accents at the top, and Aynie said that she would buy some rhinestone trim and make spaghetti straps.
Homecoming was exciting. I had fun sitting with my friends, cheering for the Homecoming court, yelling as Gruber wiped out University High School, and beaming with pride as the Dupree Class of `90 float (an elaborately big computer with two girls dressed as frontierswomen on top of it), "Women Pioneering the Nineties" won the contest.
Nikki's mother took us home. As soon as I hit the door, Aynie whisked me upstairs and transformed me from a plain little girl to a passably nice-looking one. I had been wearing stockings ever since I was eleven on Sunday, and everyday as part of my Alice Dupree uniform, but none had been as sheer as these. My heels were a full inch high, and Aynie said that she was glad she found the right color in my size, which is a five. She told me not to wear my glasses that night, and handed my clear lip gloss while she brushed my hair to the crown of my head.
"You're still too young to wear your hair in certain styles, I think," she said. "I'm gonna pull the sides back like you do sometimes. Then, we can curl it... like this."
When I was dressed, I squinted a little to see myself. I looked a lot different. And I wasn't even wearing any makeup.
I went downstairs. It was seven-thirty. I turned on Jeopardy and waited with butterflies in my stomach. Peach, wearing a bathrobe, came out of the kitchen with a bag of animal crackers and stopped short.
"Damn! Who the hell are you?"
"Shut up. If you tease me, I'll punch your lights out."
"I ain't teasing you, `Rie. You look good."
"Thank you."
"Tell Aynie to get you some contacts. Your glasses cover up your eyes."
"I can't, not until I'm a junior. Besides, I doubt if I'll ever want to put anything on my eyeballs. Why aren't you dressed?"
"I already took a shower. Unc said I could use his car, but I ain't going to get Dee till nine-thirty. We'll probably be there around ten."
"But the dance was twenty-five dollars a couple! It ends at twelve!"
"So? I got to make an entrance."
"For twelve fifty an hour?"
"You'll understand one day. Where that little nigga at?"
I glared. That word... I hated that word! "If you mean John, his mother will be dropping him off any minute, I guess." The doorbell rang. "That's him."
Peach answered the door. John came in, smiling, holding a corsage of orchids. "Hi, Quentin... Josephine! You look so beautiful. This is for you."
I smiled as he put the corsage around my wrist. He was so nice, I thought. I had forgotten about the flowers, but he hadn't. No wonder he'd asked what I was wearing.
We went over to the Dawsons'. Dr. Angela answered the door and beamed at me. "Oh! Look at my little Cherie! All grown up! Come on in. Quiana's already here."
I did. Angelo and Quiana were sitting on the loveseat, holding hands and talking. He was wearing a blue suit, and Quiana was wearing a gorgeous gold sequined sheath. I wished that I could be like her when I'm a senior, and have a boyfriend as nice as Angelo.
We got to the dance around eight-thirty. Nikki and Vincent were already there, and we had fun at the beginning of the evening dancing, sipping virgin cocktails, and talking with friends.
Nikki, our new friend Velvet Gibson, and I took our first bathroom break at ten.
"Isn't it great?" Velvet asked, reapplying her lipstick. Unlike thirteen-year old me or fourteen-year old Nikki, she's fifteen and can wear makeup.
"It's so much better than I could have ever imagined!" Nikki said. "Wait till I tell Jasmine and Tiffany. They'll be so jealous!"
"Who, your little friends? That's what they get for still being in middle school," Velvet giggled.
I had to pee. I had been using the bathroom so much since June. I didn't know what's wrong with me. But since it wasn't burning and what came out was a normal color, I ignored it.
But this time, I went to drop the tissue in the toliet and I saw red. At first I started to scream, but there were a few drops on my panties, too.
"Cher, come on!" Nikki whined. "We're missing everything."
"Nikki, come here."
"Ugh! Why?"
"Just press your ear up to the stall door."
I saw her green sandal heels and whispered in a low voice, "I think I'm starting my period."
"You can't be! Oh, my goodness. I don't have a thing... where is it?"
"Just in the toilet and a little drop on my underpants, thank God. Is there a machine in here?"
"There is, but I don't have any change. Velvet?" Nikki filled Velvet in, and she handed me the sanitary napkin over the stall door. I put it on, flushed, came out, and washed my hands in the sink.
"It's not that bad," I said. "The way it feels, I mean. The way it looks is gross."
"I know. But don't worry about it," Velvet advised. "Don't think that John's going to be able to tell, either. He won't."
Back on the dance floor, I wondered if John could tell. Not if he could tell I was bleeding or anything, but that a change in me had occurred. Something special had happened to me this night... I was finally becoming a young woman. I hoarded the knowledge to me carefully, and held him a little closer with a smile.
I hadn't seen Peach come in, but now he was dancing with Quiana in the middle of the floor. There was no Deirdre or Angelo in sight. I wondered what the private joke they were laughing at was, and wondered if Angelo would think it was funny. Then I saw them look at each other, and he kissed her. She didn't push him away. She just trembled a little and laid her head on his shoulder.
I knew Angelo wouldn't think that was funny.
Before I could think about it any more, there was a big commotion near the punch table. I didn't want to get involved, but John dragged me over to instigate.
There was Nikki, screaming with fury as a red punch stain seeped into her green taffeta. Vincent and Zachary Blake were growling at each other, arguing.
By the time John and I arrived over there, we were just in time to catch the last part of what Zack said.
"...bring her here!"
The beginning of what he said must have connected with the last part to make a lot of people mad, especially Vincent. He immediately began to tell Zack, in not so nice terms, what he thought of Mrs. Blake, Zack's state of being, and what he hoped would happen to him in the afterlife.
Two of the chaperones, Mr. Caine and Mr. Linden, rushed over to break up the argument. Mr. Caine yanked Zack up while Mr. Linden grabbed Vincent. Quiana's friend Wendy began to dab the punch off a teary-eyed Nikki.
"All right, young man, you've caused enough trouble here," Mr. Linden boomed to Vincent. "Get your date and go home. I'll see you in Dean's office first thing Monday morning."
"Excuse me, sir," this was from Quiana, "what trouble was he causing?"
"Using inflammatory language in a school setting," Mr. Linden sneered back at her.
"Did you hear what the other boy said to Vincent?" Quiana wanted to know.
"I most certainly did not."
"He made a rather nasty comment about the fact that... there’s a difference between the color of Nikki's skin and the color of Vincent's," Wendy said slowly.
Mr. Linden’s next comment hung in the air, because the whole dance had frozen except for him.
"That's exactly what I mean about causing trouble. All this... mixing is what creates problems anyway."
When we recovered, I heard Wendy, who's mixed, say, "I see. I guess that means I'm a problem, you guys. Because my parents are troublemakers in your eyes. So I'm leaving before we're blamed for anything else."
"Yeah, y'all. I'm a problem, too," Sam's best friend Yusef said with disgust. "I'm outta here."
"My father was black. My mother was Asian," I said suddenly without thinking. Everybody looked at me, but I didn't care. "So what does that make me?"
Mr. Linden glared at me. I'd seen that look before. Tante had looked at me like that all the time when I was little. It makes the person who is being looked at feel like a turd-covered roach.
But even worse is what he said.
"A mistake."
Quiana crossed over from where Nikki was, found Angelo and told him, "I want to go home. Mr. Linden, Vincent and Nicole will see you in the dean's office on Monday with their parents... and so will Quentin Rice, Fred Preston, and myself. We're going to ask for your resignation."
And half the dance left with us.
Saturday morning, Nikki came over and told me what had happened. "Cherie, it was awful! Vincent and I were dancing. I was thirsty, so I went over to the drink table. I was sick of all those virgin drinks, so I had a glass of Hawaiian punch. Then all of a sudden, Zachary slammed into me on purpose. At first, I thought I was being paranoid. Zack and Vincent are friends, you know. So I laughed and said, `Watch where you're going, Zachary!' And he said, `No, you watch where you're going, little nigger!'"
"Please say he didn't, Nikki," I said feebly.
"I couldn't believe it either until his friend threw punch on me. I didn't see who it was. All I could think of was that my dress was ruined. I started screaming as Zachary was laughing. He tried to run away, but Vincent caught him and asked what was going on. He asked him what he could have been thinking of, bringing a black girl to the dance. He didn't say it all that loud, but I guess my screaming got everybody's attention. Then Vincent cussed him out, and Mr. Caine and Mr. Linden came over. You know the rest. Cherie, I'm sorry he said that to you."
"It's sad," I said. "Not for me, because I know I'm not a mistake. I was mad at him. But now… I feel more sorry for him than anything else."
Everybody knew the outcome of the meeting almost before it ended. Vincent was suspended. Zachary got detention. Peach, Quiana, and Fred got very angry.
"There's a mandatory meeting of the BAC right after school," John told me when I saw him at lunchtime.
There was an eerie feeling that was in the air at Dupree all day. I saw Lisa talking to Alicia Denton between classes. Alicia had been Zachary's date for Homecoming. I remembered how we became friends at Hopewell, because of the Theta nonsense. Now we weren't friends anymore because of some more nonsense.
I couldn't really remember the first time that I thought about racial differences. The first memory I had of it was of Tante Aimee saying I wasn't really black. Then there were the endless questions about my long hair, my dark skin, my facial features. When I answered them, there were more questions about my accent. I had gotten rid of the accent fast, watching TV and listening to the radio and my friends all the time so that I would lose the patois.
There is nothing that I can do about the way I look. Did I ask my parents to make me? Why should I always feel like I should apologize for my long, straight hair whenever another, usually black girl makes a nasty comment? Should I apologize for my black father falling in love with an Asian girl? Should I also add that I'm sorry that they're dead and can't answer for their audacity for creating a girl child that was a "mistake"?
That's the nastiest thing about racial and ethnic prejudice.
Most of us went straight to the meeting after our last hour class, not even bothering to go to our lockers. Peach called the meeting to order quickly. "All of you know by now what went down at the homecoming dance on last Friday," he said. "I won't waste time repeating it. This morning, Dr. Trenton and Dr. Drapeau met with Zachary Blake, Mr. Linden, Vincent Ryder and his mother, and Nicole Ferguson and her mother. The officers of the Gruber Student Council, the Dupree House of Representatives were allowed to attend, along with Quiana, Fred, and myself. We feel that Vincent's being suspended was unfair, and is only the latest event in our schools' long history of racist policy.
"So, as the president of the group that is supposed to represent the black students at both of our schools, I propose the following."
He held up a sheet of paper. "This resolution basically says that we're making three demands. First, that Mr. Linden should be fired. Second, Zachary Blake should be expelled. We are also demanding the establishment of an African-American Student Center and Lounge, as well as the hiring of a full- time minority student counselor.
He cleared his throat. "If these demands are not agreed upon, we, that means all of the black students at both schools, will boycott all extracurricular activities. Including sports teams."
Many of the athletes grumbled. Gary stood up.
"Most of y'all who's complaining ain't got all that much to lose. Me leaving the football team could mean college or the service for me. But I'll be damned if I sell out. When it comes down to a scholarship or making somebody answer to calling sisters "niggers", "problems" and "mistakes", there is no choice."
"We can't force you to boycott," Quentin said. "I know some of y'all sitting up here wondering why we trying to start something. You might be thinking about your own little white friends, and how nice they are to you, and all that. But I grew up in Morningside, Mississippi, a place that the Civil Rights Movement still ain't got to yet. And believe me, just cause a white person smiles in your face, don't mean they ain't calling you a nigger behind your back."
The cheers rocked the cafeteria roof. Quiana stood up and started shouting, "Power! Unity! Power! Unity!"
The other kids took up the chant.
I shivered. Something bad was bound to happen… and soon.
