Time for Change

by Varian Johnson

  We were quiet for a few blocks. One friend down, I thought to myself. One friend to go. How was I going to make things up to Aaliyah for what I’d said the other day?

  A few blocks later, Mama turned into the grocery store parking lot. “Ready to help me with some shopping? I was thinking enchiladas for dinner.”

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  “Can I invite Aaliyah and Isaiah over for dinner?”

  Mama thought for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Why not.”

  I shot off texts to Aaliyah and Isaiah as we headed into the store. By the time we checked out, they’d both replied yes. Isaiah was arriving at five forty-five and Aaliyah at six. Perfect.

  Mama and I immediately started cooking when we got home. Red arrived when we were about halfway done, sweat dripping down his face. He must have been playing basketball with the guys. He said a quick hello, grabbed a sports drink from the fridge, then headed straight upstairs.

  “Mama, can you watch the sauce for a minute? I need to talk to Red.”

  After she nodded, I bolted up the stairs. Red was just about to close his door when I stuck my foot in it.

  “Red?”

  I thought he might try to shut the door on me, but he just flopped down on his bed and took a long swig of his drink.

  “I-I just wanted to let you know that Teagan and I mmm-made up, and we even wrote a new version of our poem for next www-weekend. I-I-I’m sorry we messed things up before.”

  “I’m glad to hear you worked things out,” Red said, letting out a big breath. “I know the team will be glad to hear it, too. Everyone’s really excited for next weekend.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And speaking of next weekend … I have some feedback I’ve been meaning to share with you.”

  “For my individual poem?” Red said, putting his drink on the floor.

  I nodded.

  “Hit me!” Red said bouncing up and down with energy he hadn’t had a minute ago. “You know how I dig feedback!”

  “All right,” I said, laughing a little. “Have you thought about how you move during your performance?”

  He frowned. “A little, I guess. Don’t I move around?”

  “You do,” I said. “But maybe too much. There’s not really a plan, is there? You just seem to walk whenever and wherever you feel like.”

  He laughed. “You know me, cuz. I like to let my legs flow with the verses.”

  “I know, but just hear me out,” I began. “Do you have the words of your poem I can look at?” He quickly opened his poetry notebook and handed it to me. “Okay, remember how the Pink Poetics were stomping and stuff? Their movement accentuated their words. Like, right here, when you talk about Aunt Tonya being a soldier, what if you stood at attention and saluted?” I repeated the verse, standing tall and saluting on beat with the words.

  He leaned back and rubbed his chin. “I like where you’re headed with this, Gabby. Keep going.”

  “Awesome!” I said. “And if I help you with this, could you help me when Aaliyah comes over later?”

  “Anything for my cuz,” Red said. “Especially one who’s my poetry sister.”

  Half an hour later, Isaiah arrived, and I filled him in on my plan for dinner.

  Aaliyah rang our doorbell at six o’clock on the dot. But we were ready.

  Red and Isaiah had tied sheets around their necks like kings’ robes. Red opened the door, standing tall and regal, then bowed. “Hello, Your Highness.”

  I wished I’d had my phone so I could snap a picture of Aaliyah. The look on her face was priceless.

  “Please, come in, my lady,” Isaiah said, bowing, too.

  As she entered, Daddy stepped from behind the door and quickly fastened my butterfly wings—I mean, my curtain—around her neck. “We are so pleased that you could join us this evening, Your Majesty. We have prepared a special meal just for you.”

  Aaliyah shot me a look that said what is going on?! I just raised my eyebrows. She’d find out soon enough.

  It was Mama’s turn now. She placed a crown made of tinfoil on Aaliyah’s head. “Only the best of jewels for our princess.” Aaliyah giggled.

  I giggled, too, but recovered quickly. My part required a certain decorum. I cleared my throat, then made a grand gesture with my arms. “Ladies and gentlemen … and cats,” I said. Maya was watching from the coffee table. “May I present t-t-to you Her Royal Highness, Aaliyah Reade-Johnson, the Ever Enchanting Enchilada Princess!” We all bowed as Aaliyah stood there, giggling away. It was so hard to keep a straight face!

  Maya, seemingly bored with our production, meowed at us as she ran upstairs.

  And then Red started laughing, which made me laugh. Before we knew it, we were all laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes.

  “Let’s leave the princess and her lady for now,” Mama said. “We’ll meet you two in the dining room for our royal meal.”

  “Is dinner like this every weekend?” Aaliyah asked as we sat down on the couch.

  “No,” I said, between giggles. Then I composed myself as best I could, because I wanted Aaliyah to know I was serious about what I had to say next. “This is me-me tr-trying to apologize for wh-what I said the other d-d-day.” I did a quick check-in with my jaw like Mrs. Baxter taught me, tried to relax it, and started again. “I’m ssss-sorry for what I said. My friendship with Teagan is special, but so is ours.”

  Aaliyah nodded. “I think so, too. That’s why it hurt so much when you implied that we weren’t real friends.”

  “But I didn’t mean it,” I said. “We are real friends. Real friends have inside jokes.” I gestured to my outfit and smiled at her. “Real friends help each other out, like you did when I needed to finish my costume. And real friends offer their honest opinions, which you’re really good at.”

  Aaliyah laughed. “I’m just glad that I can be myself around you and not worry what you’ll think,” she said. “That’s why I value our friendship so much.”

  “So we’re good?”

  She nodded. Then she opened her arms and hugged me. “And I’d even be happy to give you more honest feedback on your poetry, if you want. Starting with the positives first, of course.”

  I pulled back and beamed at her. “That would be great.” Then I sniffed the air. “But maybe after the royal dinner. Those enchiladas smell delicious.”

  In poetry on Monday, Red asked me to help everyone else be aware of their bodies during their poems, just like I had done with him. When we were done, everyone’s poems were so much stronger. I couldn’t wait for Land of the Free Verse to get up onstage on Saturday and wow the crowd—and the judges!

  I grabbed my bag to head to ballet. This was going to be my last class, though Amelia didn’t know that yet.

  “Wait, Gabby!” Red shouted to me. He ran over. “We didn’t get to your ‘Dream Big’ poem today!”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I actually have some revisions to do. Maybe you and I can work on it together at home later this week?”

  Red nodded. “You bet.”

  “Amelia? Can I talk to you?” My heart was beating like a dozen ballerinas were doing grand jeté leaps on top of it. It was just me and Amelia in the studio now—the other girls had already left.

  “Sure, Gabby,” she said. “What’s up? Great job in class today, by the way. Can’t wait to see you rock those pointe shoes when we step away from the barre!”

  “About that …” I started. The tiny ballerinas were doing petit allegro jumps on my heart now, faster and faster. I took a deep breath. “I-I-I’ve decided I’m not going to go en pointe. And … and … I’m g-g-going to step away from ballet completely, act-actually. Ffff-for now, at least.” I couldn’t read Amelia’s face. Was she mad? “I-I-I know you really want me to go en pointe, but-but I-I-I …”

  “Oh, Gabby,” Amelia said. “Of course I want you to go en pointe, but only if that’s what you want to do.”

  “I do,” I said. “I mean, I did. May-May-Maybe I will in a few years.” Am
elia opened her mouth, but I kept talking. “I know it would be hard to c-c-come back later, but-but right now, I want to focus on mmm-my poetry.”

  Amelia give me a big hug as I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m so proud of you, Gabby,” she said. “For following your dreams, no matter what they are. You go be the best poet you can be. You’ll always have a place at the barre if you want to come back, okay?”

  I nodded. “Thanks for understanding.” There was something else I wanted to ask Amelia, though. “Amelia? I was wondering if you’d help me with sss-something for my poem for this weekend.”

  “Of course,” she said after I’d told her my idea. “I’d love to help.”

  She tapped me on the nose and headed out.

  I picked up my bag to follow her, then stopped.

  The sun had just about set, but a little light still flowed through the stained-glass windows high above me. I slipped on my ballet shoes and stepped into the square of red light at my favorite spot at the barre. With my heels together in first position, I slowly dipped into a plié, breathing out and then in as I went down and back up. Then I pushed my soles against the worn wooden floor, my tendus extending from red square of light to yellow square of light and back again. The entire world melted away until it was just me, the barre, and the dance floor.

  I let my body—and my heart—say good-bye to the first Big Dream I’d ever had, and the first Big Dream I was letting go.

  You two are going to wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing,” Mama said to me and Red, a grin on her face.

  We were all at McKenzie Middle School, the site for Voices. Once we’d checked in, a volunteer assigned us a private “green room” where we could sit before the competition began. It sounded really fancy until we learned that it was just a regular classroom. Bria, Alejandro, Teagan, and Isaiah had taken seats at the desks, but Red and I walked around, repeating our solos to ourselves. There were tiny tap dancers in my tummy again. I was nervous one minute and excited the next, especially since the only people who’d heard my revised poem were Amelia and Red.

  Finally, the door creaked open and a woman wearing a headset peeked inside. “Land of the Free Verse? Time to go. We’re about to start.”

  I grabbed Red’s hand. Then Teagan came over and grabbed my other hand. Before I knew it, we’d all linked up in a tight circle. Even Mama.

  “Guys, before we go,” Isaiah said, “I just want to say—no matter what, I’m excited to be here with you all. It’s …”

  “AWESOME SAUCE!!!”

  Mama jumped a little as we yelled, then laughed. “I like that. Maybe I’ll use it in my classes.”

  The woman with the headset led us into the dark auditorium and pointed us toward a row of seats up front. The room was packed. Somewhere in there were Daddy, Mr. Harmon, Aaliyah, and Amelia, too.

  “All right, poets!” the emcee said. It was the same woman, Jackie, from the high school slam. “Who here has been to a poetry slam before?”

  This time, all six of us raised our hands.

  Jackie warmed the audience up. As we leaned in and said “Mmm-hmm,” the tapping in my belly was replaced with the same buzz I’d felt at the slam five weeks ago.

  I glanced at Teagan. We were performing in Round One and were third, after two other groups. That meant there were only about ten minutes before we’d be onstage.

  “We’re going to rock this,” she said.

  I nodded. “We’re going to blow their socks off.”

  The emcee gave a few more rules, then introduced the Sacrificial Poet. After her performance, the first team took the stage. They were really good, but also went over time, which—I can’t lie—I was sort of glad about.

  The entire auditorium was alive with mmm-hmms by the time the second group finished.

  “Are you all ready for your next poets?” the emcee asked the audience. “Please welcome to the stage Gabriela McBride and Teagan Harmon from Land of the Free Verse!”

  We walked to the center of the stage. The lights were harsher than the ones at Liberty, but I tried not to let them bother me. I took a few deep breaths. Beside me, I heard Teagan doing the same.

  And then I began:

  “B-B-Best friends are real,

  a forever deal—”

  Teagan took over, and just as I knew they would be, her words were strong and bold. I heard fingers snapping, and then shoes stomping. The audience liked our poem!

  We walked to the sides of the stage like we practiced, then came back together for the end, the audience getting louder and louder the longer our poem went on. We grabbed hands for the last few lines.

  “You and me, BFFs forever and ever—” Teagan said.

  “Always,” I finished. Then together, we turned to the audience.

  “To infinity.”

  We stood there a moment, soaking in all the applause. The spotlight didn’t seem harsh anymore. It was as warm as the sun on a summer day.

  Isaiah and Red performed in Round Two, knocking their poem out of the park. And then it was Round Three. Time for Red’s poem about Aunt Tonya.

  “Good luck, bro,” I whispered to him as he stood up.

  When he got into the spotlight, he said, “For my mom,” then he stood there, not saying anything, just watching us. After a moment, he straightened himself to attention and launched into his poem.

  “Some see her as a pretty face,

  striking in her beauty.

  Some see her as a single mom,

  always and forever on duty.

  Some see her as a doctor,

  rocking multiple degrees.

  Others see her as a soldier,

  stationed overseas.

  She’s all of those things,

  Captain Tonya Knight, MD.

  But …

  she’s just ‘Mama’ to me.”

  There were some snaps after that line. Red continued:

  “She taught me the simplest of lessons—

  how to tie my shoes, brush my teeth.

  But she also taught me how to think,

  how to speak, how to seek

  the knowledge that I need.

  She won’t let me be denied.

  She is my mother, my mama—

  the leader of my pride.”

  Red was doing great! He remembered to salute at the right time, and even pretended to stalk like a lion on that last line.

  I quickly looked around. The audience was all leaning forward in their seats, just like they had during the Pink Poetics’ performance.

  “Before she left

  to go overseas,

  she kissed my forehead

  and said to me:

  ‘Be bold, my boy.

  Be strong, don’t fold.

  Be sure, be steady,

  and don’t let your soul

  be sold

  the lies

  of those that will hurt you,

  hate you,

  harm you

  loathe you,

  misuse you,

  abuse you,

  just because

  you are you,

  with your broad shoulders,

  coarse hair,

  black skin—

  a jewel so rare.’”

  Now people weren’t just snapping their fingers and tapping their toes. They were straight-up cheering for Red. But he somehow began to speak louder, over all the noise.

  “‘I will,’ I promised,

  and then she was on her way.

  ‘I will,’ I whispered,

  as her airplane flew away.

  So when I doubt, and worry,

  and the path becomes hard to see,

  I think of my mama, my captain,

  and the man she wants me to be.”

  When Red finished, the entire room erupted. I mean, people were clapping and shouting and cheering and whooping and hollering and whistling and everything. I wanted to join them, but I didn’t know if I could open my mouth and not start crying. My cou
sin truly had a gift for words.

  Teagan caught my eye. I shook my head and wiped my tears. “That was so—”

  “Amazing,” Teagan said, finishing for me.

  It took me the rest of Rounds Three and Four to compose myself. Were poetry slams always this intense?!

  Get it together, Gabby, I told myself as the emcee introduced Round Five. You’re up next.

  Those tiny tappers were back in my tummy, and the ballet dancers were leaping on my heart again. This was it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together, once again, for Gabriela McBride from Land of the Free Verse!”

  Teagan gave my hand a quick squeeze as I got up from my seat. I couldn’t see her or anyone else once I was onstage, but I knew they were there, waiting to cheer me on.

  I closed my eyes, made sure I was standing on both feet, and began.

  “The first t-t-time I put on ballet shoes,

  my mmm-mama says,

  I made everyone stop and listen.

  ‘They’re whispering,’ I said,

  sliding my foot along the floor,

  ‘Like you make me do in church,’”

  I put my feet together in ballet first position and my arms in low fifth, creating an oval from my shoulders to my hips. As I said the next stanza, I began a port de bras, moving my arms through a sequence of positions.

  “Heels together, toes turned out—

  the barre my pew,

  the pliés my prayer.

  And like any little girl

  in a tutu and tights,

  I dreamed of going en pointe.”

  I pressed my toes into the floor now, rising into relevé, my arms above my head in high fifth position. Then, as I said the next lines, I did some ballet steps.

  “I www-wanted pointe shoes

  like a seedling wants the sun.

  I was patient,

  persistent.

  And my dream began to grow.

  It burst forth into the sun!

  But …”

  I stopped dancing altogether.

  “So did my voice.”

  I started hitting my torso and legs, like that boy had done in the high school slam.

  “When I discovered poetry,

  I discovered a beat,

  a passion so pure