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“Well, I’m glad you’re working on it so hard,” she says. “After all, you told me that the speech is going to be one-quarter of your final grade.”
I nod. And I glance over at Jannie. She’s watching this little scene as if it were as interesting as the season finale ofThe Bachelorette.
Then Nana says, “Did you practice your speech in front of Bree or your daddy? A little bit of polishing never hurt.”
“I should’ve, but I didn’t have time. I finished too late,” I say.
Nana nods. But she looks… well, she looks quietly unconcerned. I know I’m about to get caught.
Then, at that moment, like an actor in a movie, my dad walks right in through the kitchen door.
He looks pretty awful, especially for him, a man who thinks it’s important to always look “put together.”
His eyes are really bloodshot. His white shirt is blotchy with sweat stains. He says, “Morning, everyone,” very quietly. It’s obvious to all of us that he’s just returned from a tough night. But I’m the only one in the family who knows exactly where he’s been and what he’s been doing.
My phone rings. Everyone pretends they don’t hear it, including me. The last thing I need is a lecture on etiquette, which always includes the rule about telephones at the table.
“Everything okay, Alex?” Nana asks.
Dad’s voice is flat, serious. “Honestly, everything’snotokay. Everything is, to put it simply, a nightmare.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He does not answer me immediately. The long pause has me nervous. He’s onto something. Finally he speaks.
“We had some problems last night. Problems with a gang. We arrested three of the members. Just over on 18th Street,” he says. He shakes his head slowly and sadly and says, “And there was a fourth one. I regret to say that this one ended up getting shot.”
We all become completely silent. I get the feeling that Dad is looking at me longer than he should. But I’m not sure. Finally he takes a sip of the coffee that Nana’s poured for him.
Me? I’m just scared.
Yeah, I’m scared that he and Nana might figure out—or even already know—that I’ve told a big lie. Maybe he saw me. Maybe he texted Nana. But these are small worries.
Because, yeah, I’m really scared that there have been gang fights and a shooting right in our own neighborhood.
But I’ve got to say that the thing that scares me most is this: that Dad might be in trouble.
I’M DOING MYbest to quick-walk to school. My eyes are dry from no sleep. My brain is foggy, but I’m trying to work with it. I should be thinking about my speech, the speech I’m totally unprepared for. But damn it. I can’t concentrate. Because I just can’t stop thinking about last night.
Two things in particular are messing with me. The first is pretty obvious: I’m really worried that my dad may have been the person who fired the shot, and yet… and the second thing? Well, I’ve got to admit that the crime scene last night was really exciting, more exciting than anything else lately.
My brain just won’t snap into focus. Okay, back to the speech. Not only do I not have a persuasive speech, I don’t even have a topic for a persuasive speech.
Hopeless. Dead hopeless. Ms. Townsend gave us some suggestions: “Gender Equality in Sports” and “Take-home Exams versus Classroom Testing” or “Unplugging One Day a Week.” But these topics weren’t doing it for me. Usually with an assignment I spend a lot of time with my good buddy Doctor Google. But not on this one. I was lost.
Sometimes, I do this thing where I can actually trick myself into coming up with an idea. Here goes. I keep walking and then I start talking out loud.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Townsend and fellow students.…” Yeah, I know. I’m sounding particularly ridiculous here. But I’m going to stop and try this again.
“Hello, class, I’m here to talk about a topic that means quite a lot to me…” I say to an invisible classroom. Big problem. I don’t know what to say next, and what I need to say next is what it is I’m going to speak about. So, as you may have noticed, I am chasing my own tail.
Okay, one more try.
“This is my speech, and I am ready to persuade you that… that… I am here to persuade you… I’m going to try to persuade you… that… that I am… not a total idiot.”
Well, that won’t work, either. But it might get a laugh.
I give up. It’s over. Not happening.
