“Perfect,” he simply said, returning his gaze to the line of kids.
When everyone went in, we were left there alone.
He turned toward me. “What’s next? How do we fight this?”
“Mr. Landon wouldn’t listen, so I was hoping to rally some support today, but except for you and a few kids …”
“Fuck it. I’ll think of something. Now go to class. Don’t give them excuses.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He raked his fingers through his hair. On his forearm that peered from his long-sleeved tee, I noticed a large, purple blotch.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He smiled. “Ever punched a shelf sideways?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Don’t try it.”
I nodded once, bit the inner side of my bottom lip, and turned to leave. “Thanks, Oliver.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said to my back.
When I emerged from class, I heard a commotion from farther down the hall. “What’s going on?” I asked one of the girls.
“Oliver Twisted.”
I rushed to the cafeteria to find Oliver standing on a table, holding my two signs. Next to him stood a bunch of kids, mostly girls, who all chanted together, “Equal rights, adjacent staff.”
The principal had just arrived with two teachers, yelling at them to get down. The other kids stepped down, but Oliver resisted.
“Not until you do what’s right,” he screamed while he was taken down by two male teachers.
He was suspended from school for two days.
My mom told me later that his dad was abroad and gave me Oliver’s home number, but not before lecturing me, saying, “I’m proud of you for speaking up, but it’s naïve. They only agreed to negotiate with the contracting company. Thank goodness you didn’t lose your place in school. And you shouldn’t have involved my client’s son. I could get fired.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said when he answered the phone.
“I love giving them a hard time. Don’t worry about it.”
“What will your father say?”
“By the time he’s back, he won’t give a fuck. He gets all rattled up only by things that happen right in front of his eyes.”
“I got you your homework,” I said.
“Thanks. I already got it covered,” he replied, and I wondered if one of the girls who had been on the table with him had preceded me.
“Oliver, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’ll always remember that. Forever.” With a thumping heart, I added, ready to hang up right after, “You’re not Olinever. You’re Oliforever.”
There was silence on the other end of the line before he said, “Thanks, January.”
