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Ladonna picked up her cellphone and searched her calendar. “Three weeks from tomorrow. Why?”
“We’re gonna need to meet sooner.”
Ladonna frowned. The parents usually only met once a quarter. “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. Something’s very wrong.”
Her stomach rumbled at Marcus’ cryptic words.
Parent meetings were generally uneventful. Sometimes even fun. She would serve wine and appetizers, and they would go over the budget and plan new activities for the kids. And although Ladonna couldn’t call the Twelve parents her best friends, there was something comforting about being around a group of like-minded people. She never got that at work; life as a manager at Saks was bland and lonely.
If she didn’t give Marcus credit for anything else, she had to give him his due for starting the Twelve.
Carmen was three years old when they overextended themselves on their big, beautiful house. The house that made them decide not to have any more children after Bria, who entered this world only two months after they moved in. The place Marcus jokingly referred to as “the house that death built” because Marcus’ father’s life insurance paid out enough for a large down payment.
Theirs was the second-to-last house built in the subdivision, a charming little neighborhood with only 103 homes in all. The neighbors were an interesting mix of people, personalities, and cultures, and the Lanes were made to feel welcome. They were zoned for Oakgrove elementary, and that was really the sole reason they moved to the city of Millcrest in the first place. The test scores were through the roof, and it was fairly diverse. Thirty-six percent of its student body identified as African American.
But Marcus, being the thorough, detail-oriented man he was, started to notice changes happening in the community. When Carmen was in the second grade, the principal of Oakgrove left the school for another opportunity in one of the northernmost counties in the metro area. A year later, the vice principal transferred to a neighboring district. A decidedly less melanated district. Marcus warned Ladonna that these events were canaries in the mine, but she handwaved it all away.
He was right.
By the time Bria started kindergarten, the school district was about 50% black. And while the Lanes were happy about that—safety in numbers and all—Marcus warned her that more changes were on the horizon. But he had a plan.
First, he started showing up at all the zoning board meetings so he could keep an eye on the goings-on in real estate, both commercial and residential. It’s how he knew the city was planning to put a truck stop about five miles from their neighborhood. He successfully rallied his subdivision and several surrounding communities to fight it.
It was a long and contentious fight, which made their eventual victory that much sweeter. And that little taste of influence was all it took to send Marcus on a rampage, looking to fix everything in his path. His long-term goal was to run for city council president, but first, he set his sights on the school.
Bria was in the third grade when Marcus created the Talented Twelve. He thought that was so clever. “It’s based on Dubois’ Talented Tenth,” he’d said proudly, like he was the only one who had ever taken a Sociology class.
Ladonna had warned him against rounding up all the black parents, worried that it would look bad. But when Marcus got his mind on something, there was no holding him back, especially when it came to the girls.
Something like half of the invited parents showed up, although most of them were just there for the spread. Ladonna set it out, too; shrimp and grits, homemade biscuits, greens, macaroni and cheese, and Seven Up pound cake. It was all very tasty.Tootasty, because itis kicked in immediately following lunch, and Marcus found himself preaching the good word to a bunch of soul food zombies.
His message was clear: their kids were outnumbered at school, and that did not make for an environment conducive to success. It was going to take a concerted effort if their kids were going to rise to the top. He cited studies about educational disparities and teacher bias and the school-to-prison pipeline. Even Ladonna was impressed.
And then he proposed the pact. They would demand excellence from their kids. Straight As, stellar extracurriculars, actionable career goals, and when the time came, no expense spared on SAT and ACT test prep.
Some of the parents balked and opted out, which Marcus had expected, but the ones who were interested stuck around. The meeting lasted almost six hours, and everyone was spent when they left. But the documents were signed and the plan was in place. The contracts weren’t legally enforceable, of course, but the symbolism was important.
They made the local news a year later, then one of the black blogs picked up the story and the Twelve officially went viral. “Black Excellence!” was the title of one article. “Black Girl (and Boy) Magic!” was another. But things eventually quieted down, and they settled into a routine. Meetings once a quarter for the parents, and for the kids, monthly enrichment in the form of etiquette courses, field trips, and guest speakers who taught concepts like social media hygiene and networking 101.
Nyleah wasn’t an original member. She didn't join until sixth grade. Ladonna remembered her as a fierce young woman, and extremely self-assured. Bria’s insecurities often worried Ladonna, but Nyleah didn’t seem to have such baggage. Once, just once, Ladonna had wondered what it must be like to have a daughter like Nyleah. She’d felt guilty about that and had never told a soul, not even Marcus.
“I can call a meeting,” she said. “But why?”
“We have something to discuss, and it ain' good news.”
She set the wooden spoon on the counter and steeled herself. “Do I wanna know now or after dinner?”
Marcus remained uncharacteristically quiet, and it didn’t put Ladonna at ease. “Let’s talk after dinner,” was his clipped answer.
She lost her appetite completely.
The two sat at the table and ate, although Ladonna did more picking than eating. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been hungry, though, because she was back on her diet, hoping to lose those last 26 pounds of baby weight she’d been carrying since Bria was born 17 years ago. Marcus said he liked her fluffy, but she didn’t like herself as much as she once did. But she had a cute, youthful face, and the extra weight did fill out those lines that were trying to sneak up on her. Her hair was nice and thick, her skin was brown and smooth, and little black freckles danced across her nose and cheeks. She’d learned to love them. They were unique.
Marcus had gained weight, too, almost 30 pounds since they got married. Ladonna never paid any attention to his whining about it, though. He may not have a six-pack anymore, but at least nothing jiggled when he walked.
She took a sip of water and tried to think of something to say to her husband. Anything to avoid the dreaded late-marriage silence. Because they had promised themselves they would be different. The two had many a romantic dinner during which they observed couples around them. They would play a game of Guess How Long Those Two Have Been Together. Without fail, they always attributed the higher numbers to the silent couples.
