Part 15 (1/2)
”What does Mrs. Meeks think about that?”
”She's all for it! She's joining the strike!”
Elisha began to wake up and hopped out of bed. ”I've got to find my, uh, you know, my friend, uh . . . ”
'Jerry.”
”Yeah, Jerry”
”I think he's outside waiting for you.”
She found Elijah in the field, standing still while girls and boys moved past him, heading for the big iron gate. He was in his uniform, and so was she, but there weren't many uniforms visible this morning. The kids gathering around the gate were wearing anything they jolly well chose to wear; they were making a point of it.
”I guess I could loosen my tie,” Elijah quipped as they started walking.
”So, are we going to have to take sides on this?”
”Well, maybe we can just be there. If we want to know what's happening, it doesn't make sense to be anywhere else.”
”That's what I think.”
The kids, almost the whole student body of fifty, were gathering, sitting on the gra.s.s, sitting against the stone wall, babbling excitedly-and angrily. Mr. Stern and Mrs. Meeks were standing a short distance away, watching everything without getting involved. Alex was striding back and forth, shouting orders, getting people seated, directing traffic. The guy enjoyed being a king, no doubt about that, and the kids responded to him. They also picked up his att.i.tude.
”Hey, look at the suits!” somebody yelled as Elijah and Elisha approached.
Now I'm being stared at because I look nice, Elijah thought. Oh, well. Warren was in his uniform, and so are some of Warren's friends, so Elisha and I aren't the only ones.
”We don't know what's going on,” Elisha explained.
Alex, tall and mean, in jeans and a tee s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves torn off, was quick to explain. ”We're going on strike until they bring Mr. Easley back. No cla.s.s attendance, no nothing until we get what we want.” Then he struck a pose, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing them as he delivered the challenge: ”You with us or against us?”
”We wouldn't miss it,” Elijah replied.
”Sit over there,” Alex told him, pointing to a spot to the left of the gate where half the kids were already seated. Elisha started out with her brother. Alex stopped her. ”No, you sit right here.”
She exchanged a glance of agreement with her brother and sat on the gra.s.s in the front row of the crowd, to the right of the gate.
”And you remember!” Alex warned Elijah. ”You and me, it ain't over. I'm watching you!”
Elijah gave him a little salute and found a place to sit.
”Okay, listen up!” said Alex, and the crowd hushed. ”Mr. Stern and Mrs. Meeks have something to say”
Alex stepped aside while Stern and Meeks stepped forward.
Stern spoke first. ”I've always told you that you are the masters of your own fate. If you do what you have to do and do it right, and don't mess up, I won't stand in your way” He looked at Mrs. Meeks.
”Mr. Easley was a real credit to this school,” she said, and got a rousing cheer. ”He was visionary. He was kind. He was an example. Unfortunately, there are some on our faculty who don't appreciate his viewpoint on things or his teaching approach, and so ... Well, I'll be honest. They informed on him solely to be rid of him, something I strongly resent.”
That got a murmur going through the crowd, a rippling wave of anger and resentment.
”Who narc'd on him?” Ramon demanded, and everyone chorused the question.
”I don't want to get into any names, but I'm sure you all have an idea.”
”Booker,” came the first voice, followed by others, pa.s.sing the conclusion along. ”Booker.” ”Booker!” ”That creep!” ”Surprise, surprise!” ”Booker-he's dead meat.” ”Let's run him out.”
”But who told Booker?” somebody asked.
That question poisoned the chatter. The kids started looking at each other suspiciously.
Mrs. Meeks raised a hand of caution. ”I ask only one thing. Please-I appeal to your inner goodness, to all that's right and good within your hearts: Please do no harm. Unite, and we'll unite with you. Make your voices heard. But follow a path of peace.”
”This is your world, your work,” said Stern. ”It's not our place to say anything more than that; do what you feel is right, and we wish you the best.”
With a look and a step back, they turned it back over to Alex, who led the crowd in applause. ”Hey! Stern and Meeks! How 'bout it?”
While the kids cheered and clapped, Meeks and Stern set out across the field toward the office without another word or a look back.
”What do we do now?” somebody asked.
Alex strode back and forth, thinking. ”Sit tight.”
”How about a list of demands?” Warren suggested.
”Anybody got any paper?” Alex asked.
Maria, the little Hispanic from the volleyball game, pa.s.sed a pink-bound notepad forward. Alex took it and started his list. ”We want Easley back.”
”Right.” ”Yeah.” ”Right on.”
”And I think we should always have free pop,” said Brett. That brought a cheer.
”And get rid of Booker!” said Tonya, which brought an immense cheer.
”Yeah,” said Alex. ”Easley in, Booker out.”
”And I want a telephone so I can call my folks!” said Cher. Elisha joined the cheer for that one.
Then the chatter began to die down, one voice at a time. Eyes, one pair at a time, began to turn toward the far side of the field.
A tight, short line of adults was coming their way from the campus, walking deliberately, shoulder to shoulder, almost marching.
The crowd went silent, watching, waiting, worrying.
On one end was Ms. Fitzhugh, the art teacher. Not a friendly type. Next to her was Mr. Bateman, the math teacher. He was smart, but kind of fumbly. Mr. Johnson, the facilities man, was stepping right along with them, looking grim. Next to him was Mrs. Wendell, the librarian who also taught yoga. On the other end was Mr. Chisholm, the U.S. history teacher. Very few of the kids had ever seen him, and some had no idea who he was.
Right behind the line of adults, ten big guys, including Rory, Tom, Jamal, and Clay, walked in another line, shoulder to shoulder, looking cool and tough. They were carrying chains in their hands.
And out in front, like a general leading his troops, was Mr. Booker, as grim as ever.