“I guess it was my face or my eyes that caused the trouble,” said Damon, with a snort. “Dudes always think I’m trying to talk to their women.”
Mr. Tally laughed.
“Oh, you that fine, huh?” he asked.
“That’s what the babes say,” said Damon, with an ironic twist to his mouth. He looked down at his hands. Then he confessed his secret shame. “Actually, I acted like a punk. I should have fought D. Dog. I got suspended anyway, for walking out of school without permission.”
“The coward runs to run another day,” said Mr. Tally.
“So, now I’m a coward?” asked Damon, taking offense. He rose out of the chair
“No, it’s a figure of speech,” said Mr. Tally. “Sit down. You used your head. You were out manned and outgunned with Craig and his boys. Only a fool would have fought under those circumstances. You would have got a knife in the ribs for your trouble.”
“True,” said Damon, feeling the little tight core of shame in his midsection loosen a little. “My dad told me that, too.”
“You cannot let other people determine what courage and what cowardice is,” said Mr. Tally. “Or you’ll be letting people make your decisions all your life.”
“Okay,” said Damon, thinking that Mr. Tally was about to let him down easy. He felt sick to his stomach because he had been counting on Mr. Tally to come through for him.
“Mr. Hamilton, look me in the eyes,” ordered Mr. Tally. Damon looked up and met the man’s eyes. “Tell me why I should recommend that you get this scholarship?”
“Cause, Mr. Tally,” said Damon, and even he could hear the desperation in his own voice.
“I got to get up outta Lansing. I feel like I’m dying here. This place is so, so-,”
“Insular?” asked Mr. Tally.
“That’s a good word,” said Damon, filing it away in his mental vocabulary. “It’s just small. I can’t work at the factory. No jobs. MSU is a good school but it’s too close to home. Too close to trouble. I don’t want to stay here and do nothing.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’m not really sure,” said Damon, shrugging. “But whatever it is I got to learn about it first. I got to read everything I put my hands on so I can find out what it is.”
“You can’t do that here?”
“Naw, man,” said Damon. “I’m too weird for this place.”
“I see a fire burning in your eyes, Damon,” said Mr. Tally. “An unconventional fire that can take you far. I’d like to see that.”
“Me, too,” said Damon.
“This first quarter, you’ve been going through the motions because I know that you’re a very gifted student,” said Mr. Tally. “You test scores indicate intelligence off the charts.”
“Yes, sir,” admitted Damon. “Yet another mark in the weird-o-meter column.”
“Being intelligent does not make you weird,” said Mr. Tally.
“Right,” said Damon, dropping his eyes. “It ain’t cool to be too smart.”
“You think Bill Gates let other people decide how smart he should be?” asked Mr. Tally. “I’ll bet he’s saying ‘nerd’s rule’ all the way to the bank.”
Damon laughed.
“Yeah, but he’s a white dude,” said Damon.
“And?”
“White dudes got it easier.”
“Most do, some don’t,” said Mr. Tally, with a shrug. “Plenty of poor white folks out there. You got no control over other people’s opinions. However, even if they do have it easier, what does that have to do with you?”
“Nothing, I guess,” said Damon.
“There’s always going to be somebody got it easier than you,” said Mr. Tally. “Man up. Deal with it. That’s the only way to succeed.”
“Yes, sir,” said Damon, sullenly looking at the floor. Here it comes, the when I was a kid I walked ten miles in the snow and built the school with my bare hands and learned to read from the bible while simultaneously picking cotton, lecture.
“I’ll make you a deal,” said Mr. Tally, leaning back in his chair. Damon looked up eagerly. “You’ve got two weeks left in the first quarter. You start blowing up the report card with A’s instead of B’s and I will recommend you for that scholarship. And no slipping for the rest of the year.”
“You saying all I got to do is get all A’s and you’ll help me with the application?” asked Damon, feeling a wary optimism.
“Mr. Hamilton,” said Mr. Tally, pointing his finger directly at Damon. “If you get all A’s, I will make it my business to find you a full ride someplace.”
Damon lips parted in a blinding grin. He jumped up from his seat and reached across the desk to shake Mr. Tally’s hand.
“I could do that. Thank you, Mr. Tally,” he said, grinning foolishly. “I will not disappoint you.
Mr. Tally took his outstretched hand and shook it. He looked at Damon, closely. “Make certain that you don’t.” Damon turned to leave.
“Oh, Mr. Tally,” he said turning back around.
“Yes, Mr. Hamilton?”
“You’ve got the complete works of Charles Chesnutt,” said Damon, gesturing towards the burgeoning shelves.
“Yes, I do,” said Mr. Tally.
“I was wondering if I could borrow it,” said Damon, looking like he’d hit the lottery. “I’ve wanted to read the Marrow of Tradition for a while. I promise to take good care of it.”
“Yes sir, you’d better,” said Mr. Tally, starting to laugh. “Don’t forget where you got it. I know where you live.” He walked over, bent down, plucked the black bound book off the shelf and handed Damon the book.
Sasha
“So, did you like the movie?”
“It was good,” said Sasha. “I like how it was a happy ending. It was romantic.”
Clifford snorted. “I figured you’d like it. It was a total chick flick.”
“Well, yeah,” said Sasha, feeling happy for the first time in a long time. “She had real problems, like depression and self-medicating and stuff, but he stuck with her. He loved her.”
Clifford rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, she had enough money for depression, ya’ know? In my hood they’d call her a dope fiend.”
“That is so cynical,” said
