Mr. Brabant grunted, and strode toward the lines forming, Miss Lode following in his wake.
Midway across the playground, Mimi had fallen into step beside O. Ian watched as they walked together, talking. At one point O leaned toward Ian’s girlfriend as if to listen to her more closely; then he nodded, said something, and Mimi laughed.
Ian frowned.
“That bastard, touching her. Made me feel sick too.” Rod was at Ian’s side, holding the kickball.
Ian stared at his girlfriend. “I didn’t see that. Did he just touch her?”
“Not Mimi. Dee. He was touching Dee under the trees. And she was touching him.” Rod was working himself into a rage, his cheeks bright red.
“He touches all the girls,” Ian muttered. “He’ll be going all the way with them soon. That’s how boys like him are. Unless we stop him.”
“Yeah.” Rod bounced the kickball a couple times, as if it were a basketball. “How are we gonna do that?”
“We have to turn her against him.” Ian thought for a moment. “No, that’s too obvious—Dee won’t fall for that, she’s too smart. Maybe…him against her. Yeah, that might be better. And more fun.”
“What? You’re not gonna hurt Dee, are you? ’Cause that’s not fair. I just want a chance with her, that’s all.”
“I’m not going to hurt her, I’m just going to…break them up.”
“Good. But, Ian…”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you pick me for your team during kickball?”
Ian sighed inwardly. He was going to have to shake off Rod. He’d planned to do so when they moved on to junior high—changing schools always caused a reshuffling among friends. But he wasn’t sure he could wait that long. Rod was beginning to demand more and more; he was too much effort for the little he delivered.
“I had to give the new boy a chance,” Ian explained. “Now I wish I hadn’t, especially since he stopped the game with that kick.”
“But you could’ve chosen me as well as him.”
“Yeah, but then the team might have been too lopsided. I mean, you’re a good player, of course. Anybody could see that from your kick—and you scored the only run for your team, right?”
Rod beamed.
“If the black boy was good too, our team would have been too good with you and him on it, and the game no fun. I was just balancing it out.”
Rod frowned, puzzled by the backhandedness of the compliment, though enjoying the praise too.
“Go and get in line,” Ian ordered. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Rod nodded, then bounced the ball again, held it in front of him, and drop-kicked it away toward the lines of students. He raced off after it, as forgetful and happy as a dog. If only it were that easy, Ian thought. He did not move, remaining under the trees, watching the students go toward their teachers. He needed some space to think.
The moment the black boy walked onto the playground that morning, Ian had felt something shift. It was what an earthquake must feel like, the ground being rearranged and becoming unreliable. The students had had almost the whole year—indeed, the past seven years at elementary school—to get into their established groups, with their hierarchies of leaders and followers. It ran smoothly—until one boy arrived to destabilize everything. One massive kick of a ball, one touch of a girl’s cheek, and the order had changed. He scrutinized O, now in his line, and could see the rearrangement going on to include this new leader—the shifts as other students subtly turned toward him, as if he were a light they followed, like plants seeking the sun. As Ian watched, Casper stepped up behind O and began talking to him. He gestured over the fence, clearly discussing O’s kick, and they nodded. Just like that, the black boy had gained the respect of the most popular boy in school, was going with the most popular girl, and had laughed with Ian’s girlfriend—and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
“Popular” was not a word that would ever be attached to Ian. No one chatted and laughed with him. They hadn’t for a long time. He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but he had become the boy they feared but didn’t respect. He hadn’t planned it that way, but when he’d started fourth grade and moved up to the older-class playground, his brother had gone on to junior high and Ian found himself inheriting a position of power that few questioned. It came with perks: lunch money handed over, a place by the gym door away from the teachers whenever he wanted it, automatic captaincy of kickball and softball teams, and Rod, his assistant and defender—though Ian could have done without a buffoon as his right-hand man.
The whistle blew and Ian looked up, knowing it was for him. The lines were disappearing inside and Miss Lode was waving at him to come in. Even the teachers feared Ian a little; she would not punish him for hanging back, though later she would probably complain about him in the teachers’ lounge. Once he had hung outside the door and heard one teacher say to another, “Ian is the last of the Murphys, right? There isn’t some sister sneaking up from behind? I don’t think I could take another, after him and his brothers. I’ve paid my dues with that family.”
“Oh, his wings will be clipped in junior high,” the other had replied. “Little fish in a big pond and all that.” The two had chuckled. For that laugh, Ian had keyed both of their cars.
As far as he could tell, his brothers were still big fish. The brother above him was smoking now, and said he had gone all the way with his girlfriend.
Before he started toward the school doors at the end of his class line, Ian had to make a conscious effort to unclench his jaw and his fists.
As he passed the door to Mr. Brabant’s classroom, he glanced inside. O was sitting at his desk, looking down at a sheet of paper. Standing behind him, Dee was handing a sheet to Casper, who was smiling at her with his natural privilege. An outsider seeing them together could have mistaken them for boyfriend and girlfriend. And the black boy wasn’t seeing any of this.
Ian smirked as he hurried to catch up with his classmates. He knew now what he would do.
At the water fountain next to Miss Lode’s classroom, a fourth grader was bending over to drink. It would be so easy to nudge her into the spigot and bloody her lip; Ian had done so with other students many times before. Today, however, the plan forming in his head made him feel magnanimous, and he passed the girl without touching her. She flinched anyway.
One day when I was walking A-walking to the fair I met a se?orita
With flowers in her hair Oh, shake it, se?orita Shake it if you can
Shake it like a milkshake And shake it once again Oh, she waddles to the bottom She waddles to the top She turns around and turns around Until she has to stop!