AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And then everything suddenly comes together inside my brain! How’d this happen?
It’s as if the snatches of conversations I heard from last night’s crowd are coming out of my own mouth.
“Crime. Crime. Crime, and even more crime,” I say. I’m getting into it. I keep going. “That’s what’s going on here in Southeast. People getting held up with knives and guns. Old people getting knocked down. Little kids endangered. And where does most of the crime in Southeast come from? The gangs.”
Suddenly a rough voice shouts out, “Tell ’em, Cross! Tell ’em loud!”
That voice belongs to A-Train, a guy who likes me sometimes and gives me deep grief other times. Right this moment he’s on my side.
Then, all of a sudden, A-Train’s girl, Gracie Howard, yells out, “We don’t need a church meeting, Ali. Just give your speech.”
Gracie is right. For this moment I have the group with me, but I know that drama turns to bull quickly. I’m out for the save. I’ve got the facts. I give my speech.
“This crime bonanza is happening right here in Southeast DC. Homicides are up 8 percent. Car jackings are up 15 percent. And since you all live right here, you don’t need numbers to know that the problem is the gangs. All I’m doing is supplying the statistics.”
I know that I am spouting truth. I follow the facts. I eat them up online. I’m tuned in to police messages.
Then I hear, “Solutions, man? Have you got any of those?” This question comes from Gabe. Gabe, of all people. Is my best friend messing with me?
“Yeah, I have some thoughts. But right now I’m just laying out the story,” I say. Then I can’t help adding, “Thanks for asking, Gabe.”
I try to cut more criticism off at the pass. I tell everyone that social services—adolescent counseling, after-school recreation groups, psychotherapy clinics—are more available than ever.
“There has been more money, 25 percent more money, spent on social services this year than was spent in the last three years combined. So what’s the problem?”
Suddenly I hear a new voice, a gentler voice, firm but not angry.
“Could it be the police are not doing their jobs? Or maybe doing their jobs but not doing them well enough?”
Damn. That’s Sienna talking. It’s a punch in the stomach, a kick in the butt. First Gabe. Now her.
Then she adds a quick, “I’m just saying there might be problems with the cops. But Ali is speaking big truth about the gangs and Southeast.”
Everyone is quiet now, including Ms. Townsend. I jump right back in.
“I could rattle off some more numbers if you want. But, listen, you live here. So you don’t justknowthe facts. Youlivethe facts.”
Finally Ms. Townsend speaks. I thank her silently; the water here in the deep end of the pool was about to cover my nose.
“First of all, thank you, Ali. Secondly, I want to say that this is exactly what a good speech should do. Inspire. Give us reasons to think and argue. Let’s keep the discussion going.”
And we do. I’m a little scared, but mostly relieved that I made it this far.
One boy says that the police department is “woefully understaffed.” (Where’d that guy dig up the wordwoefully?)
Another girl says, “Southeast always sucked, and there’s just no cure.”
Luckily, we have to wrap up. Some boy I barely know, José Gonzalez, says he thought my speech was “dynamic and powerful.”
Hey, maybe my speech was a success. Unfortunately, this José guy does not start a trend. My on-again-off-again buddy A-Train decides to add something else. This time it’s not particularly positive.
“Hey, let’s face it,” he says. “Ali is always going to be on the side of the police. I mean, come on, his father is a cop.”
“That’s a load o—” I start to say, and then I think better of it. Instead I just say, “Look, like everyone, I try to be objective about stuff.”
“Yeah, youtrymaybe. But are you objective? Can you even be objective? Come on, this is your dad.”
All I say is, “Maybe we can pick this up next time, man. For now, I’ll just say, ‘thanks for listening.’”
