Nikki and I spent a few minutes more checking the letter. Then Nikki said, “We should find Markie now to make sure she can come with us.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Even if I mind, doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do,” she said like it wasn’t a big deal. There was always something that made me remember why we were best friends.
I texted Markie: Where are you?
She replied: Diner.
OMW.
Nikki and I arrived at the diner and grabbed an empty booth, which was okay because no one was waiting. Stacked at the counter were peanuts in mini paper bags and wedges of peanut brittle wrapped in plastic.
Markie waltzed over with two glasses of water on a tray. “What up?” Markie said as soon as she was at our table.
“You want to go to city hall with us?” I asked.
“I’m there. Is your mom going?” Markie asked and placed a glass each in front of us.
“Why?” I snapped, though I didn’t mean to. I could feel Nikki’s stare.
“Calm down. Just wondering if they’d talk to us without an adult.”
I didn’t totally buy that. “She’s taking us. Around two. We just have to make sure we’re looking professional, but without the suits, stockings, and stuff.”
“Or dresses,” Nikki tossed in and sipped her water.
Markie ignored her. “Have you seen the sibs?”
“No, I haven’t seen them,” I said.
“If she hasn’t, I haven’t,” Nikki said.
“Well, they are definitely spreading the word. Kids from Central Elementary and Bogalusa High School want to audition. A band and more dancers, from what I’ve heard.”
“Any good singers?” Nikki asked.
I kicked her underneath the booth.
“I bet there are one or two. We’ll know when they audition. The more the merrier.”
“Remember. Two at Aunt Vie’s, don’t be late,” I said as she went to take an order.
“You’re about as subtle as a dog bite, Nikki,” I said.
“Well, have you said anything yet about that howling she was doing?”
“I’ll know when the time is right.”
At least that is what I wanted to believe.
About two hours later, Mama, Nikki, Markie, and I were in Mama’s van and headed to city hall, which was located on Arkansas Avenue. I rode in front with Mama. Markie and Nikki rode in that middle row. It took us about a few minutes to see a sign that read, Welcome to the Business District. It was odd going into any business district that wasn’t so congested with traffic we had to come to a complete halt.
“Business District? Is this downtown?” Nikki said.
You could hear in Nikki’s voice that she had the Atlanta skyline in her sight.
“Yep,” Mama said.
“There’s not even one tall building. No big hotels. Nothing?” Nikki went on.
Markie fired back, “Have you even been to a small town before? They’re called that for a reason. If we had all that, we’d be an overpopulated city.”
I’d printed out two copies of our letter and folded them into envelopes. I addressed them to “The Mayor of Bogalusa.”
“Check this out,” I said and turned as much as the seat belt would let me. I handed the letter to Markie.
“Did you write this, Ms. Katrina?” Markie said in a syrupy voice.
“That’s all Georgie and Nikki’s work,” Mama said.
“Open it,” I said. “You should know what you’re representing.”
“I can do it for you,” Nikki offered.
I felt like a heel for not realizing it might not be the easiest for her to do in a moving car.
“No thanks, I got it.” She put the envelope between her knees and opened it. After a few seconds she said, “Pretty good,” and slid it back in the envelope and handed it to me. “I’m so glad that you’re helping organize this fundraiser, Georgie. I couldn’t do it without you,” Markie said.
“We were just talking about that earlier, Markie,” Mama said.
“And everyone looks so nice. And I really like your earrings, Ms. Katrina.”
Mama pinched her ear. “These pearls? Aunt Vie insisted I wear them the other day. Can’t seem to take them off.”
I wondered if Markie had recognized the earrings as Aunt Vie’s. I hadn’t even noticed the tiny snowballs that sat on Mama’s ears.
“Ms. Katrina?”
“Yes, Markie.” I bit my lip waiting for Markie’s next words. “I apologize for my outburst at the diner. It just hurts more than I can handle sometimes.”
“I understand,” Mama said. “Let’s put it behind us. You’ve given us this fundraiser to focus on. I’m proud of you. All three of you.”
“Me too,” Markie said.
Nikki and I were quiet.
Aunt Essie said that Bogalusa was split into two sections: the White side and the Black side. It looked like the city hall was on the White side since I didn’t see any Black people around. The manicured lawns and canopy-like trees of the area closer to the town hall reminded me more of Atlanta. There was no one around hawking boiled peanuts or vegetables.
Mama parked the car. I checked my teeth and the corners of my eyes in the visor mirror. I reached out my hand to make sure that I wasn’t ashy. I took out my travel-sized tube of lotion and rubbed some more on my ankles and heels. Couldn’t hurt. Then all I had to do was pace my breathing and not let those butterflies in my stomach get the best of me.
“Thank you for chaperoning us, Ms. Katrina. Doubt they’d even hear us out if we didn’t have you with us,” Markie said, still cozying up to Mama.
“It looks like a mini White House,” Nikki said as we gawked at the huge columns and stark whiteness of the building.
Standing in as our official tour guide, Markie said, “A teacher told us that’s exactly the model the architect used for it.”
I took a napkin from Mama’s glove compartment and dabbed at the sweat on my forehead. Then I made sure that my lips weren’t too shiny but not chapped either. Mama turned off the car and we got out. I took a deep breath that was a mixture of dry air and car exhaust.
“If you’re too nervous to speak, I got it,” Markie offered, wearing the only pair of jeans I’ve seen her wear without holes, rips, or loops.
“Yeah, nuh-huh. Georgie has it,” Nikki said, rocking her flared shorts that looked like a skirt.
Before I moved in front of the car, I smoothed any wrinkles out of my clothing. I was looking “kidfessional”—what Daddy called me when I helped out in his office—decked in my blue-and-white pedal pushers and matching shirt.
Markie, Nikki, and I grouped together and marched up the city hall steps, with Mama trailing behind.
“May I help you, girls?” the guard said. Mama cleared her throat. “Ma’am,” he added.
I gripped the letter until it felt as if it had a pulse. But I must have left my voice in the car. Nikki’s pointy elbow felt like it went straight to my rib cage, then to my esophagus, and finally shook my words free.
I stood so straight it felt as though I’d grown an inch. “I’m Georgiana Elizabeth Matthews, and I’d like to request an audience with the mayor, please.” I held out the letter as if he’d asked to see it.
The guard directed us through the metal detector. “Well, now. This seems mighty important. Not sure if she’s available, but she has an open-door policy, so let’s get you up to her assistant,” he said. After we all passed through the detector, we were cleared to go to her office. By that time, I not only had my voice, but I had remembered exactly why we were there, and my steps were high and steady.
A lady about Mama’s age greeted us. Even though she probably thought Mama would do the talking, I introduced myself again, but this time, without a pointed elbow to kick-start me.
“We are here to have a meeting with the mayor, please, and give her this important letter.” Then I shook her hand and held out my letter.
“T
hank you for coming in today, Ms. Matthews. The mayor isn’t available. I’m Mrs. Bridges, the mayor’s executive assistant. How may I be of service?”
“Ahem, yes, Mrs. Bridges. We are looking to be granted an emergency permit to gather at McClurie Park. Not too far from Sweetings Diner this Saturday. Do you know Sweetings?”
“Of course. We used to have Ms. Vie cater for us. And McClurie Park is a few blocks from it.”
“That’s right, ma’am. We know it’s short notice, but we need to act fast.”
Mrs. Bridges pushed wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose. “May I?” She reached for the letter, opened it, and read it.
She sat down and swirled in her high-back chair, then glanced at me over her glasses. “I’ll make sure the mayor gets this. Is there a phone number to contact you?”
“We better use my mama’s number,” I said.
I glanced back at Mama and she nodded.
After I gave Mrs. Bridges the number, we shook hands, said our goodbyes, and she placed the letter in a wire basket on her desk. As nice as she was, I had a vision of it still sitting there weeks from that second. I took two quick breaths and swallowed what felt like a chunk of ice. “Ahem. Mrs. Bridges. Isn’t the town always looking for exciting items to put on the Visit Bogalusa website?”
She pushed up her glasses again. “Indeed we are.”
“You should remind the mayor that this would be a perfect photo op for that. And it’s ultimately a celebration of the founder of what’s surely close to a historic landmark here in Bogalusa, Sweetings. Most importantly, it’s for a good cause, right?”
Nikki, Markie, and Mama were right there with the yeses like my very own backup singers.
“Tell her those statistics you were telling me the other day, Georgie,” Nikki said.
“Oh, yes…” I closed my eyes and tried to think of my research. “There’s approximately twenty percent of African Americans with Alzheimer’s and we make up about twelve percent of the population.”
“That’s disproportionate,” Nikki chimed in.
My voice was cracking a bit, but I wasn’t going to cry. “We certainly hope the mayor will join us as we raise money to defeat Alzheimer’s. We’d like to bring awareness to this heartbreaking disease. It’s the only reason my great-aunt isn’t still at the diner every day.”
Mrs. Bridges picked up the letter like she’d seen it for the first time.
“You got some valid points there, young lady,” Mrs. Bridges said. “I’ll make sure someone gets on this as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” I said. I stuck out my hand again.
I may have thought to get us to the mayor’s office, but it was all of us who sealed the deal. As soon as we stepped out of the office, Nikki and I danced and hugged like we’d won a championship. In my excitement, I hugged Markie, too. It took a second to realize that she wasn’t hugging me back. I wasn’t going to let it dampen my mood. Everybody doesn’t show affection the same. Markie’s smile was just as big as ours and we all had something to be happy about.
23
I BELIEVE
The next day the three of us were at McClurie Park, sitting on the bleachers. What Daddy would surely call “the soundtrack” of summer was on repeat—the birds, the squirrels, the ice cream truck, the watermelon man, the mamas who yelled for their kids to go to the store for them or come inside—all on the highest volume possible. And we were right in the middle of all of it planning our fundraiser.
After we talked about trying to build a stage and what food to sell, we talked about other acts.
“Speaking of acts, how many songs you think I should do?” Markie asked.
Oh, about that. This was my chance to tell Markie that maybe singing wasn’t her gift, her talent. I know Nikki was expecting me to, but all I could think about were her wanting my mama to like her and her losing Aunt Vie a little more each day.
I ignored Nikki’s gaze and dropped my head a little bit.
“She asked you a question, Georgie,” Nikki said. “How many songs should she grace us with?”
“Maybe three. Each three minutes or so,” I said.
Markie nodded. “I’m still thinking about ‘Diamonds.’”
“You’re not the only one,” Nikki mumbled.
Then Markie did a half turn and faced us both directly with as much energy as the sun. Oil glimmered in her hair like dew. “You know what. Why am I tripping? This is for Aunt Vie. I want to make it as special as possible. Plus, this will be my first time singing in front of people. I should go all out. Maybe I sounded too timid before. I wasn’t pushing myself. Need to turn it up a notch.” After “notch,” she pumped her arm like when Serena or Venus Williams wins a tennis match. “We’ve been spreading the word, so I know the crowd will be colossal,” Markie said.
The thought of that excited and petrified me. Tongue-tied, I nodded. Then managed, “We should canvass the town with fliers, too.”
“Yes!” she said and pumped her arm again. “That’s all the reason for me to turn it up a notch. Maybe I sounded too timid before. I wasn’t pushing myself.”
“Translation, please,” Nikki said, breaking side-eye records for sure.
“One word.” Markie looked up to the sky and squinted. “One word.”
“And what, may I ask, is that word?” Nikki said.
Markie flicked her fingers in front of us like a flash of light. “Whitney.”
Nikki planted her palms on the bleachers for support and leaned in.
“Whitney who?”
“Not… not… as in Whitney Houston?” I said. “The one that my mama just calls ‘The Voice,’ her favorite singer of all time, Whitney Houston?”
“Yep, that’s the one. Singers perform her songs a lot on those reality shows, right? She’s a little old school, but for an event like this, we need to pull out the classics. Something to get the adults to dig deep in their pockets?” Markie said.
“Good thinking,” Nikki admitted.
Markie’s voice blazed through my thoughts.
“‘I Believe in You and Me’ is one of Aunt Vie’s favorites. I can’t communicate with her like I want to. Maybe through song I can reach her a bit. I’ve always been self-conscious to get up in front of crowds because of, you know, shorty. But I can’t live like that forever.”
“No, you can’t.” Then I thought of how Aunt Vie responded to the music that night at the diner. “Let’s hear some of it?” I said.
“Okay, I think there is an instrumental on YouTube. Give me a second and let me warm up.” She walked a few paces away from us as she flipped through her phone.
“Have you lost your mind?” Nikki said.
“You don’t get it?”
“Obviously not… hmm.” She bit her lip. “Expound.” The word shot out of her rounded lips like a puff of smoke.
“Markie has a connection to this song. She was nervous before. I bet she can nail this one.”
I pointed an ear toward Markie. “The warm-up sounds okay.”
Please sound better. Please.
When Markie stood in front of us again, she pushed play. “Ahem.” She swayed to the melody.
“I hope ‘Ahem’ isn’t the high point,” Nikki mumbled.
Then Markie began. “I believe in you and me. I believe that we will be.”
It was soft at first. A little unsteady. Seconds later, she was in the middle of it, right in the thick. “I believe in dreams again.”
Notes that should have been soaring were underwater or belly-crawling along the ground. If possible, this song was worse than “Diamonds.” I wanted to stop her, but she stopped herself.
“That’s just a sample.” Nikki answered her cell phone, though I didn’t hear it ring. “A little rusty, I know. But what you think, Georgie? With some practice I can knock it out the park.”
Everybody might run out of the park. Ugh.
“Maybe with more practice,” I said. The way her eyes searched for a compliment made me want to give one
. But I couldn’t. Sweet Apple principal, Principal Romain, delivered the quote of the week every Monday. One that I remembered was: “The only way to have a friend is to be a friend.”
“Markie, what about the whistling? Remember, you said that you and Aunt Vie loved to whistle.”
She bugged her eyes. “All right, what gives with all the whistling talk? You don’t want me to sing? Is that it?”
I clinched my notebook in my hands. “No… no, it’s not that.” Then I thought about the quote. “Okay, it is that. Your singing isn’t that good.” The words left my mouth dry. I wished I had a bottle of water.
The disappointment in her eyes was immediate. And I felt lower than dirt.
I braced myself for her to rip into me about something. My dancing. My basic clothing. I didn’t know what she’d attack. Maybe she’d light in on Mama again. I didn’t know. But she stood there and looked around the park. She focused on some kids playing catch for a second.
Her silence made it all the more awkward. I couldn’t help but to keep talking. “I didn’t know how to tell you before. But I don’t want anyone making fun of you or anything.”
She nodded quick the way people do when they really want you to know that they get it. They understand. When she spoke, it was the same quiet way she spoke to Aunt Essie when I thought she’d explode. “Do you really think that I’d be concerned about people making fun of my voice? Is that what you think I’d be insecure about after all the things we’ve talked about?”
“No, I guess not,” I said as Nikki walked up.
Markie glanced at Nikki, then back at me. “None of us are professionals, right? This is about honoring Aunt Vie. This is about giving from our hearts and doing the best we can to raise money to donate to fight this cause. If people want to tease me about that. Trust me. My skin is tough. Thought you’d at least know that about me by now.”
I was doofus, remixed. “You’re right. We all need to get up there and just give it our best.”
“Well, I’ll get practicing. I want to show I put all the effort I could into it.” Then her phone buzzed. “That’s Rosella. I need to run an errand for her. I’m hooking up with the sibs later. There’s another local band interested.”
Forever This Summer Page 18
