Not to the Swift

Chapter 18

"Whatcha wanna do for the project?" Mikeyla Barnett stretched across her bed, kicking her sock-covered feet in the air. The aroma of macaroni and cheese baking in the oven filled the Barnett apartment. A pot of snaps and chick peas simmered on the stove.

"I think you should choose, because..." Mikeyla let the statement trail off and watched René's reaction.

"It's okay, 'Keyla," René said. "You can say it. You're letting me pick, 'cause I lost my brother." She frowned for a moment, surprised at the missing rush of emotion when she said that out loud. Still hurts if I really think about it. But it's getting easier to talk about.

Fact is, Chris is gone, and me wishing it wasn't so isn't going to change that.

"I don't know," René said. "Maybe we could write about the funeral. Like we were there to cover the event. We could tell Chris's story."

Mikeyla shook her head. "Nah, that would be nice, but too nice, you know? That's not news. Not like the kind they show on TV. It's gotta be a big deal, like... people got killed. Or a store burnt down. Or the police showed up with tear gas."

"You mean like the protests goin' on every night."

A smile formed on Mikeyla's face. "What if we covered the protests? I got a camera on my phone. We could stay far away to not get in trouble, just get close enough to take some pictures for the story."

"That's already on all the channels," René replied. "Everyone's talking about it. I'm sick of hearing about it."

"Maybe you're right." Mikeyla tapped her pencil on her notepad. "Ooh, I got a plan. I heard some of the high school boys talkin' on the way home. There's somethin' big goin' down Friday night. We could be on scene to get the scoop."

René thought about it for a moment. "I know, let's combine your idea and mine. The funeral idea, telling Chris's story, was nice but maybe too nice for the news. The protests are all up in the news all the time, with pictures of fires and looting and stuff."

She leaned closer to Mikeyla. "What if we took pictures and told the stories of some of the real-life protesters? Instead of makin' them all look like thugs and looters, maybe we show off some of the nice folk like Bishop Simms, the ones doin' peaceful stuff?"

Mikeyla nodded vigorously. "That's great! We can go out on Friday after school, get the news, and tell the black side of the story. Make sure the truth—our truth—is getting out there."

René laughed. "Yeah, 'out there' in the sixth grade school paper."

The girls giggled and plotted out their adventure.

* * * * *

No sooner had Jamal crossed the street and left school grounds than Lamar appeared from around the corner of a boarded-up dollar store. He wore his sunglasses despite the overcast day, and a long black leather coat fought off the November chill.

Oh great, what now?

Lamar strolled up and placed a gentle hand around Jamal's back. "Whatchu doin' Friday night? Don't worry, I'll tell you."

He walked alongside Jamal like an old friend. "Those bags you got stashed away? I've got an address for you. Cash on delivery." Lamar laughed and squeezed Jamal's shoulder a little too tight. "Unless your momma found 'em already."

"Nah man, we cool." Jamal felt far less confident than he sounded.

"Alright then. Good to hear. If you're cool, then we're cool, got it?"