“You got soul!” They shook hands with thumbs clasped, as they had seen black people do on TV.
Dee was grinning until she caught sight of Osei, who had watched their ritual with his face set to expressionless. Dee blushed. “Oh, Osei, I—” She stopped, embarrassed, not just because, viewed through his eyes, the gimme five ritual now seemed a ludicrous display between two white kids trying to act cool, but because he had turned away from her and walked up to home plate. There he stood, rigid, waiting for the ball to be returned to the pitcher.
Dee stared, startled out of the joy she had just felt at scoring. Surely he couldn’t be mad at her because of some stupid hand-slapping? Was it offensive to say “black hand side” if you were white? Watching his angry back, she was so confused she wanted to cry.
“He’s upset about Casper, that’s all,” she heard behind her. Ian had made the rounds of the bases and was standing nearby, his usually muddy gray eyes bright, his cheeks red. He held out his hand, palm up.
She gave him five, to be polite. Ian curved his fingers slightly and pulled them across her palm. It felt so creepy that Dee jerked her hand back, then worried he might be offended. “That was a great kick,” she said, then wondered why she felt the need to placate him.
“Thanks. I’m sure you can make him feel better about Casper.”
“I…” Is that really what the problem is? Dee thought but did not say, as she did not want to talk to Ian about Osei.
“It’s hard having a black boyfriend,” Ian went on, relentless. “Most girls wouldn’t do that. You need all the help you can get. If Casper and Osei became friends, it would be easier for you. With someone like Casper on your side, you could do whatever you wanted—go with a chimpanzee if you wanted.”
Dee opened her mouth, then stopped. He was giving her a small smile. “I like your hair like that,” he added.
Dee turned from him in confusion. Was he saying Osei was a chimpanzee? No, he wasn’t, she decided as she went to sit on the team bench, but the remark felt wrong, like milk that has gone slightly off but doesn’t smell yet. She wasn’t sure how to counter it, though, as Ian seemed honestly to want to help.
Osei’s kick was desultory after Ian’s home run. He made it to first base, though, and stood there, not looking in her direction, but across the field toward the pirate ship where Blanca sat. Dee frowned. Something wasn’t right and she didn’t know what. She wished Ian would stop staring at her.
“Casper!” Blanca shrieked. Jumping off the pirate ship, she pelted over to the chain-link fence, across from Casper’s house. He had come out onto the front porch. Murmurs arose among the kids playing kickball.
“I’ve never seen Blanca run so fast. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her run at all!”
“So he has been suspended!”
“How long for, do you think?”
“I can’t believe Casper’s gone home and it’s not even the end of the day!”
“He’s gonna miss the grammar test.”
“Is there a test?”
“You idiot, Brabant’s been warning us about it all week!”
“I wish I’d gone home instead of Casper.”
“Wow, with one punch he’s ruined his perfect record.”
“His mom must be so mad.”
“Bet his father will spank him when he gets home.”
“I wonder if he’ll use a belt like Ian’s father does.”
“Ian’s father uses a belt?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Oh God, look what they’re doing!”
“What’s she holding?”
“His dick?”
“Very funny. Oh—she dropped it.”
As they talked, the students watched Blanca and Casper. She had beckoned him to come off his porch and across the street to her. They were now kissing through the chain-link fence.
“Good thing there’s a fence between them or they’d be all over each other,” Jennifer muttered to Dee on the bench. “Casper must be in shock or he’d never let Blanca kiss him in front of everyone like that. She’s such a show-off.”
Dee smirked as she knew Jennifer expected her to, but couldn’t bring herself to watch. It would hurt to see two kids acting so genuinely passionate, when she and Osei seemed already to have moved past that, way too fast.
She wanted to go and sit with Mimi, who was alone at the end of the bench, leaning back with her eyes shut. Her friend was being strange with her: not mean or angry, but distant. When Dee had asked what was wrong she said she had the tail end of a headache. That didn’t feel like the whole truth.
Dee looked around. Apart from Mimi, the sixth graders—Osei, Jennifer, Rod, Duncan, Patty—were still staring at Blanca and Casper. Only Ian was not; he was looking at Osei, and smiling.
Why does everything feel off? she thought. This morning was so happy, but now…
At least the fourth grade girls jumping rope were oblivious. Dee could hear them behind her, while reciting one of her least favorite chants:
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Turn around
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Touch the ground
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Show your shoe
Teddy bear, teddy bear
That will do
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Go upstairs
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Say your prayers
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Turn out the light
Teddy bear, teddy bear
Say good night!
The words were so relentless and repetitive that Dee had to resist the urge to go over and slap the girls quiet. She shook her head, surprised at herself. Whatever poison was spreading across the playground, it had infected her too.
Osei would never have called himself an angry person. He had come across plenty of angry students in the schools he had gone to: angry at teachers for being unfair, at parents for saying no, at friends for being disloyal. Some even expressed anger at world events such as the Vietnam War or Nixon and his Watergate cronies. And his sister, Sisi, of course, was often angry now. Over the past year she had complained about honkies, about politicians, about black Americans putting down Africans and Africans being too reliant on Western aid. She even complained that Martin Luther King Jr. had been too passive. Sometimes their father debated with her; and he ordered her never to say such a disrespectful thing again about Martin Luther King. Her anger was so wearing, though, that often her parents simply exchanged glances, and once O was surprised to see his mother roll her eyes—a gesture he’d thought was reserved for girls. “Righteous,” his mother called Sisi’s tempers, and did not mean it as a compliment.