He looks at my phone, eyebrows bunched up, expression growing more and more pissed.
“Have you told anyone?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from the screen and looking at me. I look down quickly, picking imaginary lint from my pants, trying not to make eye contact with him.
“I told Mr. Taylor, my music teacher, today. He said he’s gonna help us find out who put the posters up. Chiamaka and I are breaking into the school on Sunday to catch them in the act and stop them before it gets any worse—if that is even possible.”
Terrell nods slowly. “Those pictures… They look scary…” His voice trails off. “Just be careful breaking in. Whoever’s doing this could be dangerous. Are you sure you guys will be okay alone? I don’t mind tagging along, if you want.”
I nod. “We’ll be okay,” I tell him, even though I don’t mean that at all. I just don’t want to drag Terrell any deeper into this. But honestly? I’m terrified. This is our only option at this point, but the situation seems to be spinning out of control—it feels like suddenly everything is at stake. And we have no idea who our opponent is.
“It sounds like proper CSI work,” he says, pointing his finger guns at me, coming close to my face with them. I turn his fingers toward him but Terrell pushes them back toward me, and I find myself smiling.
I bury things. It’s how I cope. I don’t face them head-on like Chiamaka does. There’s always the risk you’ll get seriously hurt if you do that, dragging others down with you.
“Chiamaka even wants me to wear all black, like we’re gonna rob the school or something.” I force out a laugh, but it feels strained.
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it right.”
I squint at him. “Are you trying to quote Wham!?”
“Who’s Wham!?” Terrell asks.
“Old white band…”
Terrellahhs. “I only concern myself with young, pretty brown boys, like myself.”
I laugh out loud at the statement. “You’re not pretty,” I tell him.
Dimples appear on both cheeks. “That’s your opinion. I think I’m very pretty; not as pretty as you, but I think I’m okay.”
“Whatever,” I say, staring down at the picture of the posters on my phone until the screen goes black.
“Do you guys have any theories as to who might be behind this yet?” Terrell asks, taking one of his textbooks from his desk and onto his lap.
I shrug. “Chiamaka just says it has to be someone in our classes, who’s watching us all the time.”
“What if it’s not?” Terrell says.
I scrunch my eyebrows up.What does he mean by that?
“What if it’s a teacher? Are there any teachers who might be out to get you?” Terrell continues.
My mind flashes back to Headmaster Ward in the hallway, how he saw the posters of Chiamaka and me but clearly didn’t give a shit. I think about how quick he was to blame us for the USBs.
“The new headmaster… He seems to have some issue with Chiamaka and me. And it makes sense. Before he came, things were fine. There was no Aces; it all started as soon as he arrived at Niveus.”
Terrell nods. “Maybe you guys have been looking for the wrong perpetrator. You should go to the school board, get him fired.”
I remember in elementary school, I had this white teacher. I couldn’t understand it back then, but she just felt evil. I always got this sense that she hated us—me and the other Black kids in my class. She’d be nice to Jack but would talk down to me like I did something wrong.
At the time I didn’t understand it, but maybe this is what’s really going on. Maybe Terrell is right.
It makes sense—Ward would have access to all our files, to the school on weekends. He’d be able to play with the CCTV, shut the lights off, create anonymous school accounts… But how do I even go about proving that type of thing?
“We probably need more concrete evidence, though. I’m hopingthat on Sunday, we’ll get that. If all fingers point to Ward, we take him down,” I say.
I swear I’m starting to sound just like Chiamaka.
Friday
