On my way back to the dorm, I passed other Blue House students, their shoulders low, their eyes avoiding mine. They moved through the day the way we were expected to: quiet, small, like we were just lucky to be here.
Charlie’s paper wasn’t the avenue to be heard. And I didn’t need his approval to make a difference.
8.
In my free time, I isolated myself in the library and worked on flyers to advertise a new student paper.The Sovereign—that would be its name! It was bold, rebellious, just like Pa’s paper. This one would be mine. Something I could own!
I slipped a few flyers into my bag, a thrill rushing through me as I thought of taking charge of the narrative. As I prepared to leave, my eyes landed on a familiar person sitting at a table, absorbed in a book. It was the boy from the Chinese restaurant I’d almost applied to.
Imagine my surprise at finding him here, wearing a long-pleated skirt that fell just over his knees and heeled boots—two choices that clearly rejected the dress code and made him look almost like a schoolgirl. He wore the fashion well, even with the pressure of being the only one here who was neither Negro nor white.
He looked up as if he’d felt me staring and then gave me a happy wave of recognition.
I made my way over, one flyer still in my hand. “Hi,” I said with a smile.
“Hey,” he returned, leaning forward and closing the book. “Funny seeing you here.”
“Likewise—I didn’t know you went to this school.”
“Just started,” he said, holding up what he was reading, which I realized then was the West Egg pamphlet.“Zihan.”
“Nick.” We shook hands.
I felt this heaviness as I glanced down at the flyer in my hand.Should I share it?But then I thought there was no point in having an idea just to keep it hidden, and with great hesitation, I gave him a flyer.
He skimmed it, then looked back at me. “The Sovereign?”
“I’m starting a paper,” I said, the words avalanching out of my mouth. “The school-funded one is very one-sided, so I think the Blue House boys need a way to have our own say here.”
I braced for a dismissal, but Zihan nodded thoughtfully and then shrugged with approval. “I support it. I haven’t been here long, but they put me in restaurant training, just because I have been doing that my whole life. But the point of coming here was to do something new, you know? They think they know you already, just from looking at you.”
“Exactly,” I said, sliding into a chair at the table. “And they don’t—in the slightest. That’s why I’m doing the paper, so we have a space to write out our own stories. You could write something if you want—share your take on it all.”
He tilted his head, considering it, and then he nodded. “Maybe.Do you live in the Blue House? I’m still living back home.”
“Room 17,” I confirmed.
“Neat. What are you up to now?”
We left the library at the same time. The late afternoon sun stretched across the outdoor hallway, and a breeze stirred loose leaves along the ground.
“Have you found anything to like about it here, so far?” I asked.
Zihan said, “I like the look,” and gestured to the polychrome brickwork of the White Hall classroom building beyond the hallway. The complex masonry glowed in the light. “It reminds me of Great Britain. You?”
“I’m finding things to like,” I said honestly. “It still feels big to me.”
He looked at me, his expression open and thoughtful. “It feels big for me too. But it is still early.”
We walked to the Blue House, where the common area was buzzing with noise—my dormmates joking and tossing cards at a table, someone throwing a rubber ball against a wall. Zihan hesitated at the door, then stepped in with me behind him.
He raised the flyer and waved it in the air. “Hey, just want to make sure everyone has seen this?”
My face instantly started burning up when the chatter quieted, and a few heads turned our way. One of the boys, a wiry kid with glasses named Jerome, took the flyer from Zihan’s hand and squinted at it. “The Sovereign?”
“It’s Nick’s idea,” Zihan said, looking back at me. “A paper for the Blue House.”
I stood there frozen and embarrassed from the attention... but there were murmurs of agreement. Jerome handed the flyer to the boy beside him—James. One by one, the others passed it around, curiosity alighting in their eyes.
