Ghost Boys
Page 8
“Dad?”
He spreads his arms wide. Sarah wraps her arms about his neck, burrowing her face against his chest.
Officer Moore kisses the top of her head. Three times.
Sarah pulls back. Arm’s length, she stares at her dad.
“Help me with my project?”
Her dad looks like he’s been punched in the gut. His face loses color. “About the young man I killed?”
“Others, too, who died because of mistakes. Prejudice.”
Her dad clutches her. He can’t speak. I can’t see Sarah’s face but I can see her dad’s. His tightening jaw, eyebrows rising and falling. Tears. Mouth puckering. Brow creasing. His face contorting with too many emotions.
Eyes closed, he exhales. Hugs Sarah closer. He kisses her hair.
“Sure,” he whispers, crying. “Sure.”
“I love you.”
That’s what I needed to see. Hear. From both Sarah and her dad.
DAY OF THE DEAD
November 1. All Saints’ Day for Grandma; the Day of the Dead for the Rodríquezes.
Both families are having a picnic. Right on my grave.
Ma and Pop look better, less strained. Grandma, Carlos, and Kim are joyful, decorating my tombstone, laying chicken legs and cornbread on my mound. Carlos’s parents have brought tamales. I wish I could taste them. His mother wears a ruffled dress and pink flowers in her hair. There’s a baby girl in a carriage. A pink headband with a knit flower circles her head.
Carlos’s ma is especially kind to Ma. His pa shakes hands with my pop.
Grandma, Carlos, and Kim talk to me like I’m standing right in front of them. Which I am. Though they can’t really see, know it.
Kim tells me Sarah sent her a book. Little Women. “It’s good. I imagine all the sisters are black.”
“Jerome, say hello to Grandpa Leni for me.” Grandma traces my name. Then Grandpa’s name. “I love you both.” She lights candles.
“The Day of the Dead,” says Carlos. “Your day to play, Jerome. Just one day. But I’ll be here next year, too. And the next and the next. I won’t ever forget you.”
Grinning, Carlos lays a basketball where he thinks my hand might be inside my casket. “Play ball with your friends, amigo.”
I just might. A ghost boy tournament.
Grandma squeezes Carlos, unfolds a paper square. “This means so much to me, Carlos.”
I lean over Grandma’s shoulder. It’s a picture of me. I can tell by my eyes. My curly hair. But I’m a skeleton face. Big eyes, a shrunken skull, with rainbow designs.
“It’s not meant to be frightening like Halloween,” says Carlos. “Mexicans honor the dead. Skull pictures celebrate our loved ones.”
“I want to draw, too. Can you show me?” asks Kim.
“Sure. It’s easy.”
“Take one.” Mrs. Rodríquez, Carlos’s mom, unwraps plastic from a tray. Little sugar skulls are lined up in rows. “The Day of the Dead celebrates life.”
It does, too. Sweet candy. Good food. It’s comforting seeing my family and Carlos’s family together. Pop loves the tamales. Carlos’s pa likes Ma’s potato salad.
It’s good seeing Kim be friends with Carlos, hearing Grandma murmur how she misses me, how she remembers how much I liked video games. “I’m going to give Jerome’s games to Carlos.”
Carlos grins, shouts, “Yes.”
“Maybe sometimes Jerome can watch you play?”
“I’d like that,” he says. Understanding each other perfectly, the two clasp hands.
Living, the dead are close.
Kim licks a skull.
“No, don’t eat it, Kim. It’s for decoration.” Carlos places six sugar skulls on top of my headstone. One tiny skull has my name on it. Grandma lights candles on my and Grandpa Leni’s graves.
Emmett appears by my side. “You’re remembered. We all are.”
One by one, the ghost crew appears.
I’m at home with the wisps of boys filling the cemetery.
“Will the murders stop?”
“One day. Got to believe, Jerome. You’ve got to believe.”
Emmett looks like an old man. Even older since I’ve known him. His weariness scares me. Though a ghost, will sadness make me older… and older?
I look around.
I realize ghost boys, thousands of ghost boys, are trying to change the world. That’s why we haven’t said goodbye. Why we aren’t really gone.
“Emmett, each of us has someone who sees them, don’t we? Someone to talk to?”
Emmett nods. “Sometimes more than one. Only the living can make change.”
“Who’d you talk to? Who saw you?”
“Thurgood. Thurgood Marshall. A lawyer at my killers’ trial. He won lots of civil rights battles. Became a judge.”
“Sarah’s going to do good,” I say, confident. Carlos and Kim, too.
“Time to go.”
“Where?”
“Wandering, ’til next time. Got to help the dead speak.”
“Ghost boys stick together,” I say, firmly.
“At least until there aren’t any more murders,” answers Emmett. “Until skin color doesn’t matter. Only friendship. Kindness. Understanding.”
“Peace.” That’s my wish, too.
THAT DAY
Breathing free, cold air in, warm air out. My body dashes forward, back, side to side. I’m running, dodging, fighting bad guys. Don’t know who the bad guys are—just bad guys. Not thinking of anybody real—not Mike, Eddie, or Snap. Not even thinking about Carlos.
It’s good being outside, playing in the streets. No one’s going to touch or bother me.
With a gun, I feel powerful. Like a first-person shooter in a video game. Except I’m inside the game. Feeling the rush of air; lungs aching, imagining I’m a good guy. A cop. Better yet, a movie star playing a cop. A future agent slicing with laser beams. Destroying aliens, zombies. I’m brave, bold.
“There. Over there,” I shout. A bad guy. Pow.
It’s fun. Better than punching, clicking control buttons. It’s dangerous, too. Exciting. For once, real-time drug dealers might avoid me. Eddie, Mike, and Snap wouldn’t dare to take me down.
Christmas is coming.
Green Acres isn’t sad. It’s green. An adventure land. I shoot from behind trees. Pow, pow. I evade, track bad guys. There’s a swamp to avoid. A stream I need to jump across.
Pow. The bad guy is down. I sit, catch my breath. The gun dangles at my side.
My breath slows; energy drains. It’s cold but my body feels hot.
I wish I was playing with Carlos. Then, it would be a real game, an imagining. Fun with a friend.
By myself, I’m just faking it. Risking someone might think I’m a thug and want a real shoot-out. And if Eddie were here, despite him being a jerk, I don’t think I could bully him. It wouldn’t feel right. My family wouldn’t like it.
Time to go home.
Movement. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it. A car cruising toward me, at me, like it’s going to jump the curb.
I turn. Try to run away.
Pow. Pow.
Brakes screech.
I fall flat.
Blood flows; Green Acres’ dirt darkens. The snow turns red. I can’t lift or turn my head.
Shoes… some run, walk toward me. People are gathering. Black boots, two sets, stand near my head.
Sound has been sucked out of the world. I only hear my heart. Hear blood pulsing out of me.
“Toy,” I gurgle, stutter. My right hand opens and closes on air. I don’t want to lose Carlos’s gun.
Pain slams me. Two fire sticks are inside me. Burning, searing my right shoulder and lower back. What happened? What happened to me?
Call a doctor. Fix me.
It’s harder to breathe. Blood fills my lungs, throat. My heart beats… slowing, slower, slow.
I want to see a face. Ma. Have someone hold my hand. Grandma.
I close my eyes. Feel my spiri
t rise.
LAST WORDS
Bear witness. My tale is told.
Wake. Only the living can make the world better.
Live and make it better. Don’t let me
(Or anyone else)
Tell this tale again.
Peace out.
Ghost boy
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AFTERWORD
During my lifetime, Emmett Till and countless other teens and young men have died because of conscious or unconscious racism. However, Tamir Rice’s death at twelve, like Emmett Till’s death at fourteen, unnerved me, because their deaths criminalized black boys as children. It is tragic when adults, who are meant to protect children, instead betray a child’s innocence. One death impacts us all.
This book includes the revised history of Emmett Till’s interaction with Carolyn Bryant. For over sixty years, there have been claims—oral, written, and some under oath—that Till had physically and verbally assaulted Mrs. Bryant. The suggestion was that Till invited his punishment. Timothy B. Tyson’s book The Blood of Emmett Till corrects this distorted “historical memory.” Mrs. Bryant, who identified Till to his murderers, has now confessed at eighty-two, “Nothing that boy did could ever justify what happened to him.” Till’s death was based upon a lie. Mrs. Bryant, his accuser, hasn’t been criminally charged.
My hope is that parents and teachers will read Ghost Boys with their children and students, and discuss racial prejudices and tensions that still haunt America. Through discussion, awareness, and societal and civic action, I hope our youth will be able to dismantle personal and systemic racism.
My family has always celebrated and honored the dead. For me, it was important for Jerome and Carlos to have a friendship that extends beyond life. So, too, I wanted to underscore that Grandma’s and the Rodríguezes’ beliefs were interconnected.
Throughout the world, honoring the dead is a cultural theme. Ancestor worship from various Mesoamerican tribes and cultures (particularly the Aztecs) created the Day of the Dead holiday. More than a million African slaves lived in colonial Mexico and their afterlife may have influenced the Day of the Dead rituals, too.
The Day of the Dead celebration begins at midnight on October 31. Deceased children (angelitos) are allowed twenty-four hours for play with their families. The next day, adult spirits are honored. Catholicism, widespread in America and Mexico, celebrates November 1 as All Saints’ Day (honoring saints) and November 2 as All Souls’ Day (honoring one’s familial dead). The Day of the Dead celebrations merged with Catholic traditions most likely in the 1500s. The Day of the Dead celebrates life, family connections, and reminds people to enjoy life. Families erect altars to their loved ones, filling them with favorite drinks and foods. Tending grave sites and retelling stories about the dead are important aspects of honoring family memories and traditions.
Believing the dead are still “present” gave this novel even more urgency for me. I do believe that as a living person, I am obliged to honor and speak for those who can no longer speak for themselves.
“Bearing witness” has long been crucial to African American communities—indeed to all ethnic groups who have suffered oppression. “Bearing witness” means using your personal and/or cultural story to testify against inequities, injustice, and suffering. To “bear witness” often includes personal trauma such as Jerome’s death and subsequent experiences. Telling his story helps him cope with his pain but provides catharsis (emotional cleansing), which allows him to accept his death and his role as storyteller in the afterlife. “Bearing witness,” Jerome empowers Sarah (and future others) to fight against racial bias and discrimination.
As an artist, I “bear witness” and hope to empower readers to “make the world better.”
My hope is that Ghost Boys prompts meaningful change for all youth.
GHOST BOYS DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. How did you react to the beginning of Ghost Boys?
2. In what ways does Ghost Boys connect the past and the present? How, and why, does the book jump backwards and forwards in time?
3. What was the importance in showing the preliminary hearings?
4. What is racial bias, and how does it affect the story of Ghost Boys, and real events? (Here.)
5. Why does Ghost Boys reference Peter Pan? (Here.)
6. What is the purpose in Sarah’s character, and her having the ability to see Jerome? What does she symbolize?
7. What about Carlos’s character? What role does the Day of the Dead play in Ghost Boys, and why is it important that he admitted to giving Jerome the gun?
8. Who was Emmett Till? How does his real story affect the story Ghost Boys, and what is the significance in Emmett Till telling Jerome his story?
9. What does the author mean by “Even though life ends, it also doesn’t end”? (Here.)
10. Why does Emmett Till tell Jerome, “Bear witness”? (Here.) What does “bear witness” mean?
11. Why does the author write that people need to be happy, and imply that they shouldn’t be weighted down with hard stories? (Here.)
12. The author writes, “Can’t undo wrong. Can only do our best to make things right.” (Here.) What is the significance of this? What are some ways that you can make things right?
13. Here, Jerome notes that Emmett’s attackers were found innocent, just like Officer Moore. What is the significance of this?
14. Why haven’t the ghost boys said goodbye? (Here.)
15. What does the author mean by “Only the living can make the world better. Live and make it better?” (Here.) What are the ways you can make the world better?
16. What did you think of Ghost Boys? How did it make you feel?
FURTHER RESOURCES FOR PARENTS AND EDUCATORS
If you’re interested in learning more about the topics brought up in Ghost Boys, the following are some online resources.
Rethinking Schools “Making Black Lives Matter in Our Schools”: rethinkingschools.org/articles/making-black-lives-matter-in-our-schools
Mothers for Justice United: mothersforjusticeunited.org
National Police Accountability Project (NPAP): nlg-npap.org
Martin Luther King Jr. “I Have A Dream” Speech: kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/documents/i-have-dream-address-delivered-march-washington-jobs-and-freedom
National Geographic “Day of the Dead”: kids.nationalgeographic.com/explore/celebrations/day-of-the-dead/
University of New Mexico “Day of the Dead”: unm.edu/~htafoya/dayofthedead.html