He doesn’t laugh, but this other kid across the table does. It’s Derek. My GOON antennae are definitely up. “Aw, you miss your mommy’s cooking!” Derek says. I pretend not to hear him.
Maybe Charles is pretending too. He just says, “Every summer they bring in the person who won that big cooking competition show Sliced.” He shoves about seventeen pieces of bacon into his mouth. “Former Sliced contestants run the kitchen, and the rest of the staff are from famous Black-owned restaurants around the country.”
“Not this year,” says Derek. “I heard they couldn’t afford it. This place is getting janky.” He glances back at me. “And apparently, they let everybody in now. You look like one of those brownnosers who tries to be an ‘intern.’”
“Well, the food is still good, and everyone’s nose here is some kind of brown,” says Natasha, sliding into the seat next to me. “Literally.”
Charles just shrugs, and I keep my eyes on my plate. I know guys like this, and the best thing for me to do is stay quiet.
Natasha leans over and smiles at me. “Waffle sandwich. Good idea,” she says, pointing to her own.
“Derek, you need to stop, your attitude is getting so old,” says Michelle, settling into the seat next to Charles, who immediately starts choking on his juice. She turns away from the Derek kid and continues. “I’m excited about that Black to the Future class, y’all.”
Derek mutters, “Of course you are,” but only the guy sitting next to him responds with a laugh.
“Me too, but I wonder why it’s only once a week,” says Natasha, holding up her waffle sandwich. It has sliced bananas and chocolate spread inside. She has good taste. “That means we only have it three times.” Her cornrows are all swooped up into cute little buns.
“All I know is that it means three less free periods,” grumbles Derek. “And that it’s going to be corny.”
Natasha ignores him. “And Triple M is back, so you know the street style routine at the Camp Showcase is going to be fire …”
“REACH!” booms Charles. “STRETCH!” Michelle and Natasha laugh along with him. “EXTENSION!” I guess that’s him imitating this Triple M person. “BOOM! BAP! BOOM! BAP!”
“Who’s Triple M?” I ask. I don’t mention that I’m on the Street Style wait list.
“Oh—you have to call him Mr. Micah McDowell,” says Natasha. “You’ve got to say the whole thing until he gives you permission. He’s … quirky. But he’s a choreography legend.”
“According to him,” says Michelle with a smirk. “But shhhhhhh! Remember, this is Emmett’s first time,” she added. “You can’t hit him with everything at once. Let him be innocent for a little longer.”
Ohhh-kay.
“Are you in Street Style too?” I ask Natasha.
“No, I’m in Advanced Dunham,” she says, like I’m supposed to know what that means. She glances at me. “Katherine Dunham dance technique. It’s a thing.”
“Tash is the Misty Copeland of dance at DuBois,” says Michelle.
“I thought she was the Serena Williams of the Blackity Bowl,” I say. “And the Ava DuVernay of film.”
“Yep” is all Michelle answers.
“Soooo back to Superhero Secrets,” Natasha goes on. “You think we’ll be talking about the Marvel Universe?”
“Uh, they said superhero, not convoluted, overrated drama,” says a girl with a slight British accent. “Like you said, we’ve only got three sessions. I bet we’ll talk about proper heroes with clear story arcs like John Stewart. The DCU is so underappreciated.”
I never thought about the definition of the word scoff before, but the way a bunch of kids react to that statement seems pretty much on the nose.
“A, B, C your way out of this convo, Amina, as my mom would say,” says Natasha. “And that’s a stretch, saying DC even has a universe!” They’re both laughing so I can tell it’s not actual beef. Sometimes things get real quickfast in the comics community. Everyone starts arguing about different comics; I’m glad I’m not the only one ready for some serious cosplay. I want to say something about Night Man, which is Luke and my favorite graphic novel series, but I still feel a little brand-new here, so I just listen.
Michelle points to the rooster-shaped clock hanging over the dining hall doorway. “We better hurry up and eat. Breakfast is almost over.” She and Natasha introduce me to some of the other kids at the table. In the space of five minutes, I meet a kid who’s won six National Science Awards, a girl who’s taking a break from her Broadway role as Young Janet Jackson, and a boy who’s working with NASA to redesign spacesuits.
“Is everyone here unbelievably amazing?” I ask.
“Well, there aren’t any dandiprats!” Charles says.
I just look at him. I refuse to ask what a dandiprat is. Or which ye olde dictionary he pulled it from.
“Black excellence, the next generation, blah, blah, blah,” says Natasha. “That’s pretty much the main reason why my parents send me here every summer. I cannot forget I’m a ‘legacy.’”
I must look confused, because she adds, “My parents went to high school here. They went to prom together.” She pretends to gag. “So gross.”
“Young bougie love!” sings Michelle, and Natasha elbows her.
“Your parents—I think that’s kind of romantic,” Charles says to Natasha. He leans toward me and loud-whispers, “You see how I worked in dandiprats? I’ve been memorizing words from my Archer’s Antiquated Dictionary. Do you think Michelle will be impressed? This is my second year of trying to dazzle her.”
“Bruh.” I pull him away from the table. “You’ve got to play it cool,” I say. “I can help you out, big time. This is my specialty.” I mean, it’s Luke’s, but I’ve been taking notes.
“You have a better dictionary than Archer’s?” he asks, worried. “I was assured that it was the most comprehensive source of—”
“No, with the ladies.” I nod in Michelle’s direction. “I’ve learned from the best.” No need to add that I’m still learning.
“Oh, is it that obvious?”
“Bro, you just said—Never mind, don’t worry, we’ll talk. I gotchu. My brother’s got skills.”
“Does he give lessons or anything? Maybe I can talk to him during my free period,” says Charles, brightening.
“I’ve been soaking it all in since I was a baby. Don’t worry, I can help you out,” I say, patting him on the back. We sit back down. Natasha is gone.
“Oh, um, where’s your friend?” I say it real casual.
“Natasha?” asks Michelle in a loud voice. “She has a headache, she went to the nurse. She’ll be back.” She winks at me. “Don’t worry.”
Was I that obvious?
“So”—Michelle holds her arms out wide—“I’m thinking that in this scene I’m writing, when the two Amys meet, they’ll call each other by their maiden names. It’ll be this big dramatic but also feminist moment—‘Jacques!’ ‘Ashwood!’”
“A type of guillotine was also called a maiden,” says Charles to no one. “In Scotland. I’m up to the sixteenth century in my Dictionaries of the Centuries collection.”
“No offense, Mich,” says a kid named Troy, “but a musical about Marcus Garvey’s wives sounds boring.”
“That’s what people said to Lin-Manuel Miranda about Hamilton,” snaps Michelle. “Begone with you, unbeliever!”
“Yeah, begone!” Charles interjects loudly.
Michelle and Troy stare at him.
“You’re funny, Chucky,” says Michelle, punching his arm.
Chucky. Ouch. I speak up. “Hey, Charles, let’s go grab another drink.”
“No thanks, I don’t—Oh, OH, YEAH, yeah, okay,” he says, standing and making the least subtle exit ever.
We walk over to the drink station. “Look, we need to get you on the fast track,” I say. “It’s clear that Troy dude is trying to push up.”
“I thought so, too! Did you hear the way he said Mich?” says Charles. “I have an
exact replica of a sixteenth century suit of armor at home. Should I get my mom to send it up here so I can show that flatigious knave that I’m not to be trifled with?”
I put both hands on his shoulders. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” he answers. “Because she’d say no. And I don’t really want to do that anyway. That suit of armor is really heavy.”
“We’re just gonna make sure that Michelle sees the real you but a little brighter,” I say. “Let’s start with your walk. When we start back, take long steps, really striiiide,” I say, demonstrating as I grab a few plastic cups. “And give him a nod as you sit down, like, I see you, playa, but I don’t see you. You know what I mean?”
Charles nods.
“Oh! And this works too!” I’m enjoying this. “Do you know what she’s drinking? Luke says it’s always good to offer a girl something to eat or drink, and it’s even better if you seem like you’ve been paying attention to what she likes.”
“She always drinks fifty-fifties,” says Charles. “Half lemonade, half iced tea. Minimal ice. Should I make one for her? Extra large?”
I nod. On his own, he adds a twist of lime, which I think is a smooth move.
“You’re a natural, C,” I sat. “All right, let’s head back. Smooth. Suave. Silky.”
“C?” he makes a face.
“It’s better than Chucky,” I say, shrugging.
“I’ll stick with Charles,” he says firmly, and starts marching back to the table like he’s leading a band. One step at a time, I guess.
“For you, milady … my queen—uh, Michelle,” he says when we get to the table, with a big flourish. A flourish so big that he waves the cup of fifty-fifty right over Michelle’s head and into my stomach. I watch it spill down the front of my pants like it’s happening in slow motion.
“Arrggh!” I yell. Maybe even yelp.
“Confound it!” shouts Charles. I have a fleeting thought: He keeps it real, doesn’t he?
Michelle and Troy jump up. “Let’s get some paper towels,” says Troy.
“I’m deeply, deeply sorry,” says Charles. I just nod. Michelle and Troy come back and of course Natasha comes back right at this moment too. I try to dry myself off as much as possible, but it’s clear that unless I really want to spend the day looking like I’d wet my pants, I’d have to go change. The distance from my table to the door seems insurmountable. Insurmountable? Great. Now I’m thinking in Charles.
“I’ll walk directly in front of you,” says Charles.
“I think that’ll just call more attention to this whole … situation,” says Michelle.
“I think maybe all of us standing around him like this is calling more attention to the ‘situation,’” says Natasha, making air quotes. “Let’s just act natural.” They all get in the most unnatural poses imaginable. Charles tries to balance a tray on his head.
“Guys, I appreciate the support, but I’m guessing that a circus troupe looks more natural than this,” I say.
Charles put the tray down. “I was going for the distraction strategy,” he says. “I do something even more ridiculous to call attention away from your …”
“Pee pants?” suggests Derek. A girl a few seats away giggles. “Hey, check it out, everyone!”
Please don’t let me be this guy!
“Wow, Chucky,” says Derek in a low voice. “You’re a regular weirdo. But this dude”—he points to me—“this dude is just regular.”
I pretend to ignore him and his Mac-like ability to get to me. Why is it that the jerks always know what your weakness is? And why is it that I never have any mental vibranium on the ready? Natasha would probably be mad about me mixing my comic universe metaphors. “Just act natural,” whispers Charles. I am still frozen in place, with Charles, Natasha, and Michelle standing around me.
Even Natasha has given up on that. “I mean … we can’t stand like this forever,” she says.
I mean, I could. Her hair smells like cake.
“Yeah,” says Michelle. “This is getting uncomfortable. I’m not good at being still.”
“You’re more like a whirlwind,” says Charles dreamily.
“‘Look for me in the whirlwind,’ yes, come through with the Marcus Garvey quotes!” cries out Michelle, jumping up and down. “I could hug you!!!” Charles almost falls over, aaaand my human wall of protection has crumbled.
“E!” calls out Luke’s voice. I look up to see him jogging toward me. Yes! Luke to the rescue. When he gets close, he leaned in and whispers, “Just go with it, okay?” Before I can even nod, he’d lifts me up onto his shoulders. “Hey, everyone! My brother E here won the school debate championship back in May!”
Ragged claps. I hope he’s got more, because I already know that’s pretty routine for this crowd.
Luke continues. “He’s going on to even more in the fall! I’m so proud of him.” Nice work. He makes it sound more important than it is by keeping it vague. He’s a master. Then he simultaneously deepens and raised his voice in a way that makes a subtle shift from encouraging to slightly menacing, which is hard to do without coming off like a bully. He’s practiced on me a lot. “So … who’s gonna help me cheer him on now!”
A few claps and even whoops, the loudest from Charles. Luke starts some rhythmic clapping, more kids join in.
Luke lifts me onto his shoulders, and starts in, his voice booming. “E! E! E! E!” As he cheers my name, he keeps up the clapping and carries me toward the door. “Do you, E,” he whispers. I start to smile and raise my arms like I’ve just won a boxing match. The cheers and claps get louder.
As we walk by Derek, I hear him ask someone, “Why exactly are we cheering this kid? For being a debater like a hundred other people here? And how can that guy be his brother? He’s actually not a punk.” But the cheers drown him out.
Luke gets me outside fast and closes the door behind us. I can hear everyone go back to their food and conversations.
“All right, go change,” Luke says to me. “Only you could have gotten into such a mess.” But he’s smiling.
“Thanks!” I say. “That was AWESOME. I’m a little nervous. People are kind of intimidating here. Also I keep hearing that the swim test is mandatory and I have badminton now. I’m sure I’ll look awkward.”
“Everyone looks awkward playing badminton,” says Luke. “And will you look at that. It’s almost as if you didn’t think this through.” When I don’t say anything, he goes on. “Look, you wanted to come to DuBois, so—” He holds up his hands.
“Yeah, but—” It was to hang out with you! I want to say, but he’s already looking back into the dining hall. “Oh, wait, so I met this girl, she does film, and I had an idea for something you and me could do together, have our Brother Summer that we planned—”
“E, I gotta get back to work … I was just grabbing a quick bite and saw what happened. I’m feeling a little … Well, this isn’t easy for me either, so, you know, try to stay dry, okay?”
“Um, yeah, about that swim test—”
He sniffs. “Is that Black Tiger or Lemon Chill? I remember those days. Did you spray on that whole can? Yo, think of the environment, if not the rest of humanity.” He pats my shoulder and goes back inside before I can say anything else. I hear the cheering rise as he steps into the dining room. They’re yelling “E! E! E!” again, like they don’t even realize that it stands for me. Or maybe in spite of that.
Chapter Fifteen
I can’t believe I was worried about looking awkward in badminton—Luke’s right. It’s impossible not to look awkward. A girl even walks by the nets and says, “AWKWARRRRRRD” as we’re taking practice shots; it’s like we’re in a teen movie. I guess it’s a small consolation that we all look corny. Except Natasha, who is apparently also the Serena Williams of badminton. I try to think of something complimentary-but-not-thirsty to say. I really wish I’d brought more sneakers. Natasha is wearing a tank top that says unbothered in sequins. I notice something new about her every time I see
her, it’s like I can’t take in all of her magic at once. She doesn’t seem to sweat at all.
A birdie hits me in the head. “Ouch!”
“My bad, heads up,” says a voice. I look, and it’s Derek. “I was just trying to help you out.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say. I pick up the birdie and line up with the rest of the class.
I can feel his eyes on me as Natasha gets in line behind me and taps my shoulder.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.” I play it cool, like I’ve just realized that she’s there. Another birdie smacks me in the face.
After the period is over, we walk around, picking up the birdies on the grass. I feel rivers of sweat running down my sides even though there’s a cool breeze blowing and we really didn’t do all that much. I’m going to have to do three coats of deodorant while I’m here, or at least right before I know I’m going to see Natasha.
“So I heard you going hard for Green Lantern at breakfast,” she says. “I’d love to do a superhero movie one day.”
I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah … So, do you really think Superhero Secrets is going to be about comics and stuff?”
“I mean, yeah, if Dr. Triphammer’s smart. Because that would be so good,” she says. “I’m a huge Night Man fan.”
I guess my surprise shows, because she rolls her eyes. “Seriously?! You’re looking all shook because a girl reads Night Man? I like Cobra Woman and Ayo too, so …”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “It’s not that I don’t think girls read comics. It’s just … Night Man’s pretty low key. Not that many kids I know read it. I only know about it because of my older brother.”
She nods. “Yeah, the early volumes are so-so, but once Monifa’s story starts, it really gets going.”
“Monifa is awesome! She needs her own movie.”
“I know, right?!”
We dump our armfuls of birdies and rackets into the sports shed. I really am sweatier than I thought. Maybe I’ll try four coats of deodorant. It doesn’t hit me until I’m almost at my dorm that I just had a semi-real conversation with a girl that I don’t know and I wasn’t awkward or anything! Mostly.
It Doesn't Take a Genius Page 9
