This Side of Home

by Renée Watson

  Essence holds up a coupon. “Girl, free food is good food.”

  The boys don’t want to eat just yet. They keep walking and leave me, Essence, and Star with Nikki and Kate. The five of us go into Soul Food. Essence gets in line, and we grab a table at the window. I look out the window at the avenue, hoping to see the man who sold me the necklace. I want to thank him, tell him I know what it means. I look for him at the corner, but instead a local photographer is there selling her prints.

  Z is here, too, pushing his cart down the sidewalk in front of Daily Blend. His cart is overflowing and piled so high I’m not sure if he can see where he is going. He bumps into Vince. He stumbles a bit but doesn’t fall. Bags turns and starts yelling at Z. I can’t make out what’s being said, but I know it’s nothing good. Vince and Bags are laughing at and taunting Z. Cynthia walks away from them, as if she wants no part of this. I see her squeeze herself through the crowd. People stop and watch the argument, and some of them even join in, yelling at Z, telling him he can’t be here with his cart.

  Z tries to move; he pushes his cart forward, but Vince and Bags won’t budge and the street is so crowded, it’s hard for Z to maneuver his way out. Now he is cursing and yelling, and everyone in Soul Food gets up from their tables and comes to the window to watch the drama.

  Vince knocks Z’s cart over and everything after that happens so fast, I’m not even sure what I’m seeing; all I know is Z and Vince are in each other’s faces yelling and instead of people trying to break it up, people start arguing with each other, right in the middle of Jackson Avenue.

  “There’s no reason why he needs to bring that junk over here!” someone shouts. “If he doesn’t want to act civilized he should stay home!”

  I hear someone else say, “He has a right to walk this street just like everyone else!”

  People are yelling. I can barely make out what anyone is saying, but I know there is arguing about who was in this community first.

  And then I hear glass shatter. Someone has thrown a rock into the front window of Daily Blend. The mild chaos becomes total mayhem and everyone is running, trying to leave.

  The owner of Soul Food locks her door, turns off the lights, tells us to come with her to the kitchen. We hide in her dark pantry, sit on the floor. I can hear the sounds of more glass breaking.

  There is one voice that stands out. It sounds like Vince, and he is saying, “This is our neighborhood, too!” I think back to the day when Devin got into it with Vince, to the words written on the wall—This is our school, too—and I wonder if all this, the buffet, the poster war, the assembly, has just been a joke to him and Bags. And I know I will never be able to say this for sure, but I think he said the n-word that day in the hall.

  The store owner sits next to me on the floor. She is trembling. I take her hand. One of her cooks is on the phone with the police. When she hangs up, she says, “We just need to stay here, stay calm. Help is on the way.”

  Chapter 76

  The next morning I wake up to the sound of the news. Nikki’s TV must be up as loud as it can go. “There will be no school today at Richmond High,” the reporter says.

  I go into her room. Essence and Nikki are sitting on her bed. I get in, sit crossed-legged next to Nikki.

  The news is replaying scenes from yesterday.

  Of course they showed up to report about this.

  Mom knocks on the door. Her eyes are still red from crying last night. When Nikki, Essence, and I walked in the door she couldn’t stop hugging us, couldn’t stop crying. “Good morning,” she says. “Just wanted to check in. You girls okay?”

  We say yes.

  Mom stays in the room, watches the news with us. The camera scans over a block of Jackson Avenue. Daily Blend has the most damage. But other stores have broken windows, too.

  A commercial comes on. I ask Mom, “Can I go over to Daily Blend and help clean up?”

  “Maya, you are not leaving this house.”

  “But, Mom, look, the news is even saying that everything is under control.”

  “Maya, the answer is no.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t ask me again.” Mom goes to her room.

  I get up. Nikki is looking at me, and I know she knows what I’m thinking. “Let’s go,” she says.

  The three of us get dressed and sneak out of the house.

  The first place we stop is Daily Blend. Glass litters the streets. The sun reflects off it, giving us the illusion that we are walking on jewels. There are workers outside sweeping and a few people boarding up a window.

  When Nikki and I approach them, one of them backs up, clinching her hammer. “We’re here to help,” I say. “We’d like to help you.” I take the broom from one of the women who is sweeping, and I start cleaning the glass.

  Just as I gather the last of the debris into the dustpan, a reporter comes up to me. “Mind if we speak to you for a moment?”

  He gets the cameraman to come over, and he asks me, “So how does this feel to have the place you work at vandalized?”

  “Oh, well, I don’t work here,” I explain. I don’t plan on saying this next part. It just comes out. “I’m the student body president at Richmond High, and I wanted to come out here and help. And—and I’d, uh, I’d like to invite any other Richmond students—current or alumni—to come down and help. This is our home, and we have to take care of it.”

  The cameraman thanks me and goes into the store to speak with the owner. By the time he is out, Tony and Kate have come to help. Charles, Star, and a few students from journalism have come, too. I see a reporter talking with Charles, and one from a different station is talking to Star.

  Within an hour, twenty students have arrived, and by hour three, I lose count. Jackson Avenue is full of Richmond volunteers putting our broken neighborhood back together.

  Chapter 77

  A cleansing is taking place. A stitching together of trust.

  As we clean, we talk, and as we talk, we learn about one another.

  We learn that Joyce, the owner of Soul Food, lost her father because of complications with diabetes. Her passion for healthy eating is her way of honoring her dad, of trying to prevent other families from having to lose someone that way.

  I am hesitant to ask her, but I remember Mr. Washington saying how we need them and they need us, so I say, “Would you ever do a workshop or cooking lesson for students from Richmond? Could we maybe come here and learn about healthy eating and get some ideas for recipes?”

  “I would love that,” Joyce says. She gets excited and already has a name for it. “Summer Sunday Suppers. I close early on Sundays, but once a month I wouldn’t mind staying after hours for a special class.”

  After leaving Soul Food, I walk over to meet Star and Charles at the art gallery across the street. I think, if Joyce wants to get involved with Richmond, maybe other businesses do too. By the end of the day, I have talked to as many owners or managers as I could. There were a few who weren’t interested, but most were willing to hear me out.

  The owner of the gallery offers the back wall of his space to exhibit the artwork of Richmond students. And Mandy from Daily Blend says she’d love to host a summer open mic series for teens. “Maybe we could do one once school starts,” she says. “How does that sound?”

  “Good,” I tell her. “Sounds good.”

  Summer

  Chapter 78

  June.

  The flowers are breathing again. The sun lingers, and days last and last. I have packed away winter, spring. Pushed their clothes to the back of my closet. But I keep my umbrella out.

  Portland’s rain is not gone forever. Even with the bluest of skies I know the rain is just behind the clouds. She will come again, then leave, and come.

  She always does.

  Chapter 79

  It’s the last day of school. Graduation is next week.

  Nikki, Essence, and I are at my locker with Tony and Kate. We each finish cleaning out our lockers and mee
t up with Ronnie, Devin, and Malachi at the end of the hall so we can all walk together.

  When we get to the crosswalk at Jackson Avenue, the red hand flashes, telling us not to walk. Essence looks up and points to the street sign. “Tony,” she says. “Did Maya ever tell you that this street was named after my great-great-grandfather?”

  “Really? No. I had no idea.”

  We all laugh.

  Nikki pats Tony on his shoulder. “She’s just playing with you.”

  “They don’t believe me, Tony. But I’m telling you, it is,” Essence says. She says it so seriously, he looks like he doesn’t know who to believe, but then Essence can’t keep her laugh inside. It bursts through her cheeks, and Tony laughs, too.

  I see Daily Blend across the street, tell Essence, “I know who would be able to tell us how Jackson Avenue got its name.”

  We all cross the street and go inside.

  Acknowledgments

  For being the sankofa around my neck and encouraging me to “go back and get it,” thank you, Cheryl Baker, Tokumbo Bodunde, David Ciminello, Ama Codjoe, Domonique Debnam, Cherise Frehner Mahoney, Nanya-Akuki Goodrich, Cydney Gray, Ellen Hagan, Pamela Hooten, Kori Johnson, Julie Just, Jonena Lindsley, Kamilah Moon, Khalil Murrell, Kia Smith, and Robyne Walker-Murphy. You all cheered me on by giving encouraging words or reading early drafts and spending many hours in coffee shops with me for writing dates and work sessions. Thank you.

  To my sisters, Trisa and Dyan, I appreciate you so much for offering your homes to be my personal retreat during my visits to Portland. Thank you for hot tea and space to create freely.

  A special thank-you to my team at Bloomsbury, Victoria Wells Arms and Laura Whitaker, for your patience and guidance.

  Thank you, Portland, Brooklyn, and Harlem for being home at various times in my life. We have changed together. Your brownstones and bungalows, landscapes and skyscrapers, artists and activists, helped shape this story and continue to shape me.

  Also by Renée Watson

  What Momma Left Me

  Copyright © 2015 by Renée Watson

  All rights reserved.

  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First published in the United States of America in February 2015 by Bloomsbury Children’s Books

  www.bloomsbury.com

  Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Watson, Renée.

  This side of home / by Renée Watson.

  pages cm

  Summary: Twins Nikki and Maya Younger always agreed on most things, but as they head into their senior year they react differently to the gentrification of their Portland, Oregon, neighborhood and the new—white—family that moves in after their best friend and her mother are evicted.

  [1. Twins—Fiction. 2. Sisters—Fiction. 3. Best friends—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Neighborhoods—Fiction. 6. Urban renewal—Fiction. 7. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 8. Portland (Ore.)—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.W32868Thi 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2014013743

  eISBN: 978-1-61963-213-4

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