by Sara Farizan
Ms. McCrea spent the whole class period trying to get us to open up about whether we felt the school was a safe and welcoming community. I felt like shouting, “Obviously not, Ms. McCrea!” but I didn’t want to be the suffering kid there to teach the other students a life lesson. I wanted to know what was going to be on the quiz the next day.
I tried to ignore people whispering. My favorite bit of overheard gossip came from a freshman kid outside the science lab: “I heard he’s, like, a prince from Dubai or something.” Man, if I were a prince from Dubai, the hell would I be doing here?
“Bijan!” Stephanie shouted from the other end of the hall. She waved her arm and began to rush toward my locker. I took my sports bag out and slammed the little metal door as fast as possible but couldn’t escape. “I’m so glad I found you. I was hoping to speak with you about your ordeal. Now, I was thinking the best course of action would be to have some sort of rally to mobilize the student body and show that Islamophobia and xenophobia are unacceptable—”
“Whoa, hold up,” I said, raising both my hands. “The last time I helped you ‘mobilize the student body,’ I got my face plastered on everyone’s computer screens.” She looked at me like I was speaking Farsi. “Also, I’m doing okay, all things considered. Thanks for asking.”
Stephanie’s face fell. She blushed and put her hand over her heart. “I’m sorry. I don’t really . . . I sometimes say too much. Or want to say too much. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” She looked dejected, her shoulders slumped and her cheeks red. She made it hard to be mad at her sometimes. Sometimes.
“I want to forget the whole thing. Thank you for your interest in bringing awareness or whatever, but I . . . I don’t want to be one of your projects.”
Stephanie winced.
“Ooooh, that is quite the accusation, Kevin. Looks like the rookie has some trust issues.”
“Do you . . . do you really think that’s why I’m concerned about what’s happened to you? Because I think of you as a project?”
I looked at my shoes and shrugged.
“Hi, guys,” Noah said, appearing from out of nowhere, like he had a GPS tracker in Stephanie’s backpack. He wore a smile like a game show host’s, sincere enough to let you believe he wanted you to win the Jet Skis, but casual enough that you knew it wouldn’t be any skin off his nose when you didn’t. “How you doing, Beej?”
“You know, still alive, so can’t complain,” I said.
Noah didn’t even acknowledge I’d said anything but zeroed in on Stephanie. “I can bring my car out front so you don’t have to walk to the lot in the cold.”
“Oh, thank you, Noah, but I won’t be needing a ride home today.”
“Why not? You don’t have any clubs or lessons this afternoon.” Wow. He had her schedule memorized?
“I’m going to be in the library,” she replied. Stephanie’s tone was cordial, but she took one step back from him.
“I can wait until you’re finished. I have homework to do too.” This exchange was as painful as watching the Celtics lose in blowouts to the Cavs during playoffs.
“I am helping someone with their studies.” This time, she was curt.
There was a split second when it looked like Noah was unaware of where he was or how to form words. He looked so . . . vacant. When he smiled at her again, it was taut and forced. “No worries! I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said before he strode past us to the front entrance.
“Is he always so, um, persistent?” I asked.
Stephanie cleared her throat and looked a little flushed. “He has a tendency to be overprotective. He’s keenly aware of what people say about me.”
“Because he has a thing for you.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” she said. She picked a piece of lint off her shirt so she wouldn’t have to look at me.
“What town does he live in?” I asked as we turned and headed down the hall.
“Dover,” she replied.
“And you live in Brookline, right?” Both were affluent suburbs, only Dover was farmlike and quiet, and Brookline, which was technically part of the city, was a bustling metropolis.
“Obviously, you know that from our little carpool trip yesterday,” Stephanie said. We made our way outside to the quad. The end of February meant spring might not be around for another two months, and that was if we New Englanders were lucky. I zipped my jacket up all the way to my chin.
“He drives you home how often?”
“It depends . . .” she said reluctantly. “Mostly once a week.” She pulled her peacoat tighter around her.
“You’re telling me dude drives against traffic to bring you home? That’s, like, an hour and a half of his day devoted to driving you around. You don’t think he’s maybe got a thing for you?”
“There isn’t any romance there!” she said, waving her hands in front of her like she did when she was making a speech in assembly. “He’s usually working with me on community projects, so it makes sense to carpool sometimes. Noah and I are friends.”
“Then what are you and Erin?” I asked. “She drives you home too, but she doesn’t even like talking to you in public.” It came out nastier than I wanted it to.
She didn’t have an answer for me. I had figured out a way to shut Stephanie Bergner up.
“I’ve got to get to practice,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t follow me all the way to the gym.
***
When I opened the door to the locker room, I mentally braced myself for some dirty looks and insults from Will and Drew. I slipped into the room and quietly closed the door behind me, making my way toward the lockers. I missed the old days on JV, where there was some lighthearted trash talk, jokes about someone’s overuse of Axe body spray, and theories on what would happen if you smeared Icy Hot all over your junk.
The conversation around the varsity lockers was subdued. Guys were talking one at a time, not over each other.
“I don’t know, maybe that email was a warning or something,” I heard Will say. “Like someone was trying to tell us something about him.”
I stopped walking. I looked around and found some freshman from the JV squad staring at me wide-eyed.
“What do you mean, a warning?” Todd asked.
“Like he’s up to something and someone is trying to tell us before it’s too late,” Will said. “You never know, man. I mean, people get radicalized, right? Maybe somebody knows something about that dude that we don’t. You should have seen him yesterday when he got into it with Drew.”
“I think you’ve been drinking a little too much fear and propaganda punch, Will,” Marcus said.
“Come on, Marcus. What do we really know about him? I mean, he keeps to himself. He never partied with us. When he does talk, he always says some goofy stuff that doesn’t make any sense,” Will continued.
What did he want me to do? Show up to parties I was never invited to? Did he want me to, I don’t know . . . be jollier during that one practice I had attended? Especially when grunting and sweating during drills? Maybe he’d prefer I go through a metal detector while saying the pledge of allegiance before entering the gym?
“He’s our teammate now,” Marcus said. “That’s what I know about him.”
I couldn’t stand there forever, but I didn’t know how to interrupt a conversation about whether I was a threat to national security. I could have coughed. Or whistled, to let them know I was a carefree kind of guy. I didn’t do either of those things. Instead, I walked over, pretending I hadn’t heard anything.
“’Sup?” I said, doing that raising-of-the-chin thing varsity guys always do. I don’t know if it looks good when I do it. I feel like it’s so forced.
“Hey,” Marcus said. He was the only one to greet me.
I could feel eyes on me when I emptied the contents of my bag into my locker. Maybe they were loo
king for a weapon of mass destruction, but all I had was a T-shirt, Right Guard deodorant, and a pair of shorts. Drew wasn’t in the locker room. He probably didn’t want to face me after sending that email. The chump. I’d take care of him on the court. At least there was one less “teammate” in the locker room to deal with.
“Hey, B. So, like, what are you?” Will asked. He took long strides to stand behind me, leaning against the lockers while I loosened my tie.
I knew what he was getting at. He hadn’t asked it as eloquently as others had, but I’d gotten versions of this question plenty of times before, and this wouldn’t be the last. I could make it a little hard for him, though.
“I’m a human being,” I said as I unbuttoned my dress shirt. “Last I checked.” Marcus and a few others chuckled at that.
“But I mean, you know, where are your people from?” He was closing in on me. Maybe I should have told him what he wanted to hear. My mom was from Southern California, but her parents were from Iran. My dad was from Jordan. His family, whom I didn’t see very often after his passing, lived in Jordan, Germany, and Canada.
“Somerville,” I replied. I could feel his breath on my neck. “I appreciate your sudden interest in me, but I’m about to take off my pants, so maybe I could have a little space?”
“Majidi is playing with fire here, Reggie.”
“Well, what do you expect, Kevin? You think he’s going to keep taking what they’re dishing out and ask for more with a smile?”
Will backed up. “You know what I mean, dingus,” he said.
“I sure do,” I said with as much acid as possible. I turned around and stared at him. “Where’s your buddy? He planning on jumping me again today, or is that just on days when he’s picking on girls?”
“Drew’s in Coach’s office because of you. Probably getting his ass handed to him for no reason.”
“If he sent out that crap about me, then that’s the reason,” I said.
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Whoever did send it, I’d love to shake their hand and buy them a beer,” Will said with a snarl.
“I’d love to buy a keg for whatever college will take you,” I spat back. “How much does your grandpa pay to have you play for us? Can’t he buy off some place of higher education? I’ll chip in, get a collection going.”
Will lunged at me, but Steve pulled him back, and after a second, he remembered where he was. Will wasn’t as naive as Drew. He wouldn’t try anything on school grounds. Fighting on campus could lead to expulsion. I didn’t snitch, but I was sure Drew and Will knew I could.
“Will, that’s enough!” Marcus interrupted. “Lead the guys out to the court.”
Will stared at me for an uncomfortable few seconds before he and our lingering teammates went out.
Marcus stayed behind. “Fun day for you, I bet.”
“The funnest,” I replied.
“Don’t let people get to you so much that you forget about grammar.” Marcus adjusted the ACE bandage on his knee. “Is this your first brush with the ever-rampant cancer known as racism?”
“No. But it’s never been this specifically viral before.” I pulled on my practice jersey.
“Has your mom given you the ‘don’t wear hoodies or play loud music when you go out’ speech? Or is that just for us black sons?”
“I got the ‘shave before you go to the airport and don’t read anything in Farsi or Arabic when you’re out of the house’ speech. Not that I can read either language anyway.” I slammed my locker door and banged my fist on the metal.
“Go easy on that hand. We’re going to need you to win that New England championship, and the next two games. Excellence shuts everybody up real quick. I’ll see you out there.”
Marcus left me alone to finish getting ready.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Practice was brutal. Coach had us run suicides for twenty minutes, his way of punishing us for being part of something stupid. He didn’t give us a speech about team unity or anything. From the look on Drew’s ashen face and the way he carefully avoided making eye contact with me, I guessed Coach had already made his speeches for the day. But when practice ended, Coach asked me to come to his office instead of showering with the rest of the team. If he didn’t mind my BO, that was fine by me. I didn’t want to face everyone in the locker room again anyway, but I was all too aware that I’d gone two for two in post-practice office chats. If this was going to be a regular thing, I’d have to let my ride know. I had already missed the bus once; I didn’t want to make Sean wait too.
I sat across from Coach. There were two old photos on his desk. One was of a much younger and thinner Coach with a player in a Sacramento Kings uniform. Coach must have worked with him. The other photo was of a maybe ten-year-old girl hugging the same version of Coach.
“Is that your daughter?” I asked.
“Yes.” He didn’t offer any information about her. “How you doing, kid?”
“I’ve been better,” I answered, because “kind of crappy” wouldn’t have been appropriate.
“I bet. It’s a shame what kids can do these days with computers. I thought we gave you all too much homework. I mean, what jerk would find the time, you know?” It wasn’t exactly a condemnation. “Did you and Drew have words after you left here yesterday?”
I took a beat. I couldn’t decide if I should tell Coach what had happened.
“What did he say?”
“He said you two were fine, you didn’t see each other after you left my office.” Either Coach was lying or Drew had lied to him earlier. “I don’t think he sent that email.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He knows enough not to do anything to jeopardize his being a student here. You got here because of your brains. Drew is here because I made it happen.”
“We get it, Coach. You’re the head honcho.”
“You’ve got to wonder about a coach who speaks so disparagingly about his player, Reggie. Not exactly the kind of guy you want to mentor kids.”
“He also works at some pizza restaurant most nights after practice. He said he was working last night. But again, I don’t really know what transpired between you two after you left here.”
I didn’t think Coach actually wanted to know if Drew and I fought after practice the day before. If he knew, Drew might get suspended, and if he got suspended, he couldn’t play. “Now, you have to trust that the faculty are going to find out who did this, and you have to be patient.”
“And wait until after playoffs, right, Coach?”
“It seems that’s what he’s saying, Reggie.”
“I want to play, Coach. That’s it. I don’t want beef with anybody.” What I wanted to say was “I can’t help it if somebody has a problem with my existence. I can’t solve that for you.”
“Good. That’s good. We’re going to need you focused for this week’s game.”
***
I took the world’s fastest shower before meeting Sean in the library. I had pulled on a Celtics knit hat so I wouldn’t have icicles for hair, but I didn’t have anything to block the frosty air hitting my face. I entered the warm library, grateful for some reprieve from the unrelenting winter. The musty smell of old books struck me with a wave of nostalgia for the reading room at the Somerville public library. When I was a kid, my mom used to take me there all the time. I think I made her read me the Frog and Toad books a million and one times, but she never got tired of the same stories. Maybe she did, but I couldn’t tell when she did the voices.
I waved at the librarian, Ms. Spooner, who sat behind the front desk of an otherwise pretty dead building. She whispered hello to me, even though there was nobody in there to disturb. The couches up front by the magazines and newspaper racks are usually occupied during study periods but were empty this late.
I took off my hat and searched for Sean between th
e rows of bookshelves toward the back. A peal of laughter came from one of the study rooms. The door to the study room was halfway open, and I peeked in. Erin Wheeler sat at a table, laughing uncontrollably. I’d never seen her so at ease and uninhibited before. Even Will sometimes gave Drew a hard time about it at practice, asking why Drew could never manage to make his girlfriend smile.
“Hey! Over here,” Sean said, from a table farther down. He didn’t even bother to whisper. It got Erin’s attention. When she looked up and saw me, she stopped laughing. Her face looked like I had walked in on her on the toilet.
The person who must have made Erin laugh poked her head out the door. “Could you please keep it dow—” Stephanie broke off when she saw me.
Sean walked over to me with his backpack in hand and looked into the study room. “Unusual study buddies,” he said, intrigued.
Erin composed herself. Her smile vanished and her expression settled into its usual resting bitch face. Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest and looked a little annoyed.
“Hi. Sorry. We didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt,” I said as Stephanie stood up.
“That’s quite all right. We were taking a much-needed break from our tutoring session.” I’ve never gotten that much joy from studying, but I didn’t say anything.
“Hey,” Erin offered weakly. If Stephanie had been tutoring Erin, it made sense that Erin had gotten her grades up. Erin took her phone from her pocket and checked it like we didn’t exist.
“How’d practice go?” Sean asked me.
“I didn’t get in a fistfight today. Just some trash talk.” Stephanie watched our conversation closely. She opened her mouth briefly before she decided she wanted to listen instead of speak for once. I turned to her and Erin. “We were about to head out.”
“Did Drew give you a hard time?” Erin asked without looking away from her phone.
“Your boyfriend was well behaved.”
“Good.” Erin looked up from her phone and made eye contact with Stephanie. I wanted to ask her if Drew really did have work after practice, but the last thing I needed was Stephanie launching an investigation on my behalf, most likely making the situation even worse. “He’s also not my boyfriend anymore.”
