Truly Madly Royally

by Debbie Rigaud

  “We’re fine now, thank you, Officer Kirkwood!” Abby is sunny and friendly and shows zero signs of embarrassment. I feel Uncle-Officer’s silent once-over as Abby and I walk back to our chill zone. Uncle-Officer follows. Like a driver spotting flashing lights in her rearview and assuming the worst, I almost pull over before realizing that Uncle-Officer isn’t here to ticket me. He moves past me and Abby and heads in the opposite direction once we reach the main hallway.

  “His son is Amir Kirkwood, our dorm monitor.” Abby sets my paranoia over being tailed by campus police at ease.

  In fact, Amir is clutch as a contest official—even though the “surprise” was entirely on his part.

  “Guys, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned my night ending, but okay.” Amir grins, his voice booming. Not able to convince Amir to taste test anything, we invite him to confirm all ingredients are aboveboard. As a rising sophomore in Halstead’s chemistry program, there’s no better person to fill this hastily created role.

  In the end, Perez wins for mixing crumbled Fritos and tuna salad into what he called a fritotu taco. No one knows it’s Perez’s creation until Dominic looks at the slip of paper under his winning taco’s plastic plate.

  Perez even makes an acceptance speech that is low-key classy.

  “I feel like all the hours and hours of crappy videos and challenges I’ve watched have come together,” he announces to the common room. “Everything led up to this moment cramming for this taco challenge, which I easily aced. I’m glad all that viewing made a difference here today.”

  And what a difference hanging with this crew definitely makes for me today, I think on my walk from Grosvenor House to the train station later. I gently assure myself that I’m back to my usual, down with the whole crowd. I remind myself that even though it feels like it, today is not Friday. So it’s back to listening to my audiobook as I take in Halstead’s summer-evening vibe.

  A couple of mornings later, I’m back on campus earlier than usual. I’m still plugged into my audiobook, but there’s a huge weight off my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized just how heavy the stress I’d been carrying around was until I don’t feel its presence. It’s strange what you can get used to if you’re not careful. We’re trained to think it’s normal to feel tense half of the time, but a crisp, harmless snort borne from a gleeful moment is like a flag on the play in this game of life.

  I’m still thinking about this as I cut through campus en route to my first class. The quad is still dewy and the temp is cooler. Everything is still in the embrace of quiet, in between moments of birdsong. But I’m not alone. The oscillating breeze and gentler sun has bikers and runners out in strong numbers.

  Outside a narrow passageway between two old buildings is where I see him. I’ve just hooked a right turn when I spot Owen, and he’s walking in my direction.

  This is it. The first time Owen is unavoidable since I left him behind at the bookstore on Saturday. Now I get to put my Dope Dress Test into effect, and I’m hoping it proves me right.

  My Dope Dress Test is a theory that’s only ever been exercised at the mall immediately after I eye the cutest dress I instantly want. I ask myself: Is this a passing fancy or love at first sight? Well, the first step is to find a full-length mirror, hold the dress against my body, and note how absolutely cute and perfect it looks. Next, I check out the dress from an arm’s length away to examine if there are any flaws I haven’t spotted. I calculate the sale price over and over again, and think about how I can cover the cost. The last step is to drape the dress over my arm and carry it around as I pick up the items that I truly need. I remember the reason I am shopping and prioritize those items.

  Once I’m ready to buy whatever it is I’ve originally come to the mall to purchase, I’m usually totally fine with putting back the super-cute dress. Just like that. Nine and a half times out of ten, I am no longer obsessed. I don’t even feel like I’m denying myself. Turns out, the mere act of touching, examining, having the dress wholly in my possession for those moments is satisfying enough. I don’t actually have to buy it at that point, because I’ve had my fill of it on some emotional level.

  I’m counting on the fact that my interest in Owen has been acknowledged and considered, and so it will lead me to my usual Dope Dress Test results. I figure with a few days of not speaking or meeting up, we’ll both see things logically and with a lot more clarity. If I’m right, this could be the start of not a romantic relationship, but a cool friendship. Maybe I can get him to come with me to a future Taco Tuesday party. I just know he’d crack me up with his ability to do silly things without breaking character.

  I’m practically laughing at the thought already when I pull out my earplugs to holler at him.

  “Hey, this is a first,” I say when we stop and stand face-to-face in greeting. “I never run into you on campus.” Outside of the library, I admit internally.

  “Wow, Zora.” His jaw clenches, and he keeps one hand clutching the shoulder strap of his leather rucksack. “That’s the first time you’ve noticed me along your route,” he says.

  I frown when I recognize what he’s saying. I’m looking into Owen’s eyes, but I hear the playback of our very first conversation at the library. Still anonymous, Owen had talked about the “beautiful,” “self-possessed” girl on campus he was into.

  Me?

  The girl who is always plugged in to her headphones and doesn’t ever notice he’s alive. The only girl on campus he wishes he could ask to his brother’s wedding.

  It’s me.

  “Have a good day, Zora.” He holds my gaze as he takes a step toward me, then looks ahead in the middle distance as he turns in the direction he’s heading. In surprised silence, I watch him walk away.

  My belly butterflies fly around all in a tizzy, but oddly, I don’t mind. Even though I failed the Dope Dress Test, this feels like a win.

  CUTE COUPLE! Two of the dopest people on the .

  I finish my comment on the airport selfie that Skye posted of her and Zach. I’d stared at the photo for a while before deciding what to write.

  It’s true, they look good together. And happy. How could I stand in the way of that?

  She FaceTimes me right away. “Hey, girl. Hey.”

  I wave at her. “I was just about to call you,” I say. “I have some good news.”

  She beams. “Owen back in the picture?”

  I shake my head. “No. Even though he’s back on my mind.” I don’t mention our campus run-in from Thursday. I still need to think about that on my own. “My news is … I miss you.” I whine and fake cry. Skye cracks up. “But seriously, Skye,” I go on. “I’m really happy for you. I mean, like, if I totally ignore my discomfort and agony, I can see you and Zach being a great idea. You are two of the most tenacious people I know.”

  “Awww, thank you. I think,” she says. “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I do this.” She pauses and lets out a loud “Squeeeee!”

  I block one of my ears and laugh at her nuttiness. I’ve never seen her so gaga over a guy. It makes me smile.

  “I’m sorry I’m going to miss Fam Fest this year,” says Skye. “Big day for you. Let’s see what you’re wearing.”

  I walk over to my flimsy mirror and angle the phone to it.

  “Off-the-shoulder jumpsuit, nice!” she says. Skye and I share a taste in fashion. I’m a little less afraid of bright colors, but both our closets are a mix of festival looks and preppy staples. “Your hair worn half-down like that looks cute, too.”

  “Thanks,” I say, feeling suddenly nervous about today.

  “Ready to make some money moves?” she asks.

  I nod, tamping down my nerves. “Leggo!”

  “It smells like hot glue and glitter paint out here.” Zach comes out to the back porch, where I’m sitting on a bench, busy packing my personal art project into a black duffel bag.

  “No, it doesn’t, there’s a nice cross breeze going on,” I say. It’s surprisingly good having Zach back ho
me. Of course, I asked him about Skye when he arrived late last night. The smile on his face told me all I needed to know. He’s genuinely into her. “Still buzzing off your Atlanta trip?” I ask.

  “A little bit.” Zach drops his guard with a goofy grin.

  I give him a tight smile. He takes a seat next to me.

  “I know this isn’t easy for you to accept, and I understand why,” he says. “I mean, sometimes I don’t think much of myself, either. And that’s word,” he adds. “But then I look at Ma, at you, and I realize that through all of my ugly, God has been showing me beauty. And if that level of love can pull me from the darkness I was in, well, then that’s a battle victory. Now I want to join the fight. Every day, I hope to fight for my family, for myself, and for the patients I meet at work. It’s my thank-you to you and Ma for never giving up on me. It’s my way of saying sorry.” I see my brother swallow down the emotion bubbling up. “Zora, every day I pray my darkness didn’t take away your light.”

  Something inside me releases, and I start to weep. Zach puts an arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder for a few seconds. I feel his kiss on the top of my head.

  “Were you out here most of the night?” Zach looks at the mountain of scrap paper and other office and art supplies around me. “I said I could help, but you didn’t accept my offer.”

  “I was almost done when you asked.” I wipe my nose and lift my head off his shoulder. “Perfect timing as usual.”

  “You wanna talk about perfect timing—if we don’t leave now, we’ll miss out on the good parking,” he says. “You ready to head out?”

  I nod and get to my feet. Zach throws my duffel bag on his shoulder and leads the way out the front door.

  Ma and John are already in the car waiting for us. I know it makes Ma happy that there’s one summer event we’re all in attendance for—Appleton’s annual Fam Fest.

  We score one of the last parking spots but have a bit of a walk to the main stage of the festival, located at City Hall Plaza. On our way there, there’s lots to see. A good three blocks on Main Street have been blocked off to traffic. Vendors line those streets selling artwork, books, clothes, accessories, and more. Some vendors simply advertise their businesses or announce that they offer services like home nurse’s aid or piano lessons. Plus, there’s a backpack and supplies drop-off for back-to-school donations. Our noses lead us to a grassy area with sizzling grills, food trucks, bouncy castles, and even a dance floor with a DJ.

  “There’s so much going on,” says Zach as he dodges a carnival-style dancer on stilts.

  It looks like a record number of people came out, and so many of them are joining the fundraising events. Did my extra invites really work last minute? I wonder, thinking about my posts online the morning after the Gala.

  Zach goes to drop a cardboard box off at Skye’s parents’ booth promoting their capoeira school. Ma and John outpace us and grab a good spot in front of the City Hall Plaza stage. Appleton High’s marching band is performing. I can see from here that the band is fully suited, despite the humid eighty-degree weather. The flag team is dancing with all the precision they would for homecoming. Everyone is giving their all. There is pride in every move.

  I go and check on the dunk tank rental. I’m so proud I pulled it together so late, and even got Zach to agree to be the dunkee. His shift starts after the mayoral dedication. When I get there, I’m shocked to see a person swimming in the tank. There’s already a long line formed.

  What in the world—?

  “R.J.?” I shriek and laugh at the same time.

  Standing at the head of the line, collecting everyone’s fee, is Owen’s grad school friend R.J.

  “How did—?”

  “Your boy made a few calls to the Appleton Chamber of Commerce, and the rest is history,” R.J. says with a grin.

  My boy?

  I turn toward the dunk tank. The person pulling himself out of the tank, ready to be dunked again is …

  “Owen?” I say. He looks unrecognizable in a skydiver jumpsuit, helmet, and goggles. The sign next to the tank reads: ZORA EMERSON WOULD BE *THRILLED* TO SEE THIS SKYDIVER TAKE A TANK DIVE. HELP MAKE HER DAY TODAY.

  I cover my now gaping mouth. I don’t know whether to crack up or stand in line!

  “Now you understand why I had to be here and see this for myself,” R.J. says, shaking his head.

  I make eye contact with Owen. “This is nuts, but I love it!” I shout to him. He laughs and waves at me.

  I see Layla Fredrickson, her sisters, and her parents in line. “This is our third try,” says Ms. Fredrickson. “We’ll get him for you, Zora.”

  Owen barely has time to give me the thumbs-up before he goes down again. I clap and laugh from the gut at the nuttiness of it all.

  “Thank you,” I mouth to Owen with my hand on my heart.

  He nods at me. And then—splash! He goes down again.

  I’m all ready with my short speech. I’ve been asked to say a few quick words about the place-based learning program I helped to start. But during my speech, I have a special surprise for the program kids. It’s in the duffel bag in front of me.

  I wait by the stage, ready to go, alongside my mom and John.

  “There she is.” It’s my neighbor, Mr. Stanley, in full military uniform with his wife, Ms. June.

  “I’m glad to see you here today, dear heart,” says Ms. June. “I hope today’s fundraisers make up for the grant you were robbed of.”

  “Thank you, Ms. June,” I say.

  “What’s the last text you got from Dad?” Zach asks when he joins us. “He said he’d be here, but I can’t find him.”

  I check my phone. “Uh … two days ago he texted me a raised fist emoji with an article: ‘Trace Your Lineage to African Royalty.’ ”

  “They’ve started!” John hushes us and we turn our attention to the stage ceremony in play.

  The school superintendent is at the mic. “Appleton students have been transformed by place-based learning. Five years ago, a middle school student simply wanted to take an educational tour of her hometown. She wanted to know more about Appleton’s storied past, and she knew that not only teachers, but her neighbors, could teach this to her.”

  I can hear Ms. June, Mr. Stanley, and others call out, “Mmm-hmm,” “Sure can,” “Yes, ma’am.”

  The superintendent continues. “So this student asked if she could invite to school Ms. Earley, a family friend, to share her knowledge with her classmates. Well, Ms. Earley became our first place-based-learning speaker. Since then, there have been many more witnesses to Appleton history sharing firsthand accounts of the 1968 riots, the civil rights movement, our transportation system, and more. I see a few of them out here.” Mr. Stanley waves. “This program grew from guest speakers and history lessons to walking tours, outdoor science experiments, and even architecture drawing classes. And that curious student who started us down this road is here today to celebrate five years of this wonderful program. Ladies and gentlemen, Zora Emerson.”

  My family whoops, and hollers out their applause. As I make my way onto the stage, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride for my city, for this program, for myself. Sure, a part of me feels like this is a do-over for the Gala, but a bigger part is excited to receive this honor so close to home. I spot Ms. Nelson smiling at me from the crowd. No livestreaming, no fancy black-tie attire, no bigwigs. Just me and the community I love sharing a special moment. By the time I get up there and shake the superintendent’s hand, Appleton’s superstar mayor, Aina Oyeyemi, is at the mic.

  “Zora Emerson, we wish to bestow on you a special honor,” Mayor Oyeyemi says. “To do this, we’ve borrowed from ancestral traditions. Here today is the Kofsua Dance and Drumming School.”

  The drummers and dancers I’d seen waiting in the wings walk onto the stage in a parade of vibrant head-to-toe African kente, beautiful beaded accessories, pulsating beats, and joyful movements. One dancer guides me to the center of their drumming circle, and
I’m instructed to mimic her dance moves. We laugh as I catch on. I have so much fun waving my arms, swaying my hips, and rocking my head backward and forward that I keep up the dancing longer than they do. The crowd cheers when the music and dancing ends.

  Reverend Wilson takes the stage with a mic in hand and prays a blessing over me, which I’m sure Ma appreciates.

  Finally, Mayor Aina asks me to join her at the mic. “Zora, for all you have done and continue to do for our community, you are hereby crowned Hometown Princess.” She places a tiara on my head. I’m feeling so much, but don’t know what to say. My vision blurs, but I still make out my mom, crying, with John’s arms around her.

  “And for your support of local businesses, Appleton’s Small Business Owners raised enough funds through community donations and fundraising efforts to help reach your aftercare program goals. By the way, you may recognize the gentleman holding the check. He got his employer to match the donation, for a total amount of five thousand dollars!”

  The oversized check comes floating out onstage. The person’s identity is hidden, but I’d know those velour track pants anywhere. Daddy’s face pokes out with a warm smile. I run up and give him a hug. This is incredible!

  I’ve got to hold it together to make this speech. “This is beautiful beyond words,” I begin. My voice is cracking. “Thank you so much! I wanted to come here today to give the program kids a similar distinction and you guys beat me to it,” I say.

  My duffel bag is already on the stage and unzipped, and I pull out last night’s art project—sparkly gold crowns made from poster paper, glue gun, and lots of imagination. I call to the stage any children from the program, and crown them all.

  “You come from greatness and we will do all to support you to achieve your greatest,” I tell them each.

  The children stay onstage with their crowns on and recite the poem they’ve been rehearsing, “I, Too, Sing America,” by Langston Hughes.

  As I stand to the side listening, I look out into the crowd, where Ma, John, and Zach are beaming. Dad is there now, waving at me. And I find Owen, too, standing near the edge of the audience—soaked, and beaming. He really showed up today. Our eyes catch for a moment. Then the kids finish and the Kofsua school members applaud with more drumming.