Like Father Like Son Page 5

  Zoe’s father

  Dee-Cee’s ex-boyfriend

  I didn’t think for a minute that Zoe’s mom was behind this, but as an investigator, you can’t assume anything, and you can’t rule stuff out just because you want it to be that way. Parents and spouses are always people of interest.

  I didn’t know anything about Darnell Williams, either. Just that he was Dee-Cee’s manager, which meant he was probably at the park for her show when that gunshot went off. It didn’t automatically make him a suspect, but it sure didn’t rule him out, either.

  That left the other two on my list. I didn’t even have names for them, but I did know who to ask about it. So I picked up my phone and fired off a text to Ruby.

  ALI: Hey, you know anything about Zoe’s dad, or about her mom’s ex bf?

  RUBY: Not really. I think her dad’s out of the picture. She never talks about him.

  ALI: What about the ex?

  RUBY: Orlando something. Zoe HATED him, for whatever that’s worth. I don’t know the last name, but I can ask her if you want.

  ALI: Not yet. I don’t know if Zoe should even know we’re doing this.

  RUBY: Doing what?

  I sat there and tried to think of a way of putting it so it wouldn’t sound like I was going after Zoe. Because I wasn’t. The fact was, we needed to know as much about her as we did about everyone else. So I just texted back a straight answer.

  ALI: Investigating her. For her own sake.

  A second later, my phone rang. It was Ruby calling.

  “What in the world do you mean?” she said. “Investigating Zoe?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “I’m not saying she did anything wrong. But something’s definitely going on, and if she can’t say what it is, then the best way for us to help her is to find out on our own.”

  “Wow,” Ruby said. “That’s kind of heavy, Ali.”

  “So’s getting shot,” I said.

  “Word.” I heard her take a long, deep breath. “Can I tell Mateo about this?”

  “For sure,” I said. “Mateo, Cedric, Gabe. But that’s it. We need to keep this locked down as much as possible.”

  “Hundred percent.”

  The more I talked to Ruby about it all, the more it sounded like that persons-of-interest list was going to get a whole lot longer before we were done. According to Ruby, Dee-Cee and Zoe let people use their house a lot. There was always someone writing at their kitchen table, or big family dinners happening, or background singers rehearsing at the piano, and I didn’t even know what else.

  “Do you know anyone who has something against her?” I asked.

  “Against Zoe?” Ruby said. “No way. Seriously, that girl wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, “but I’ll bet she knows someone who would.”

  After we hung up, I started googling everything I could think of, but didn’t get very far. There weren’t any stories I could find about Dee-Cee Knight and this Orlando dude, whoever he was. I’d have to keep digging on that.

  And I didn’t do any better with her father, either. It was just dead ends for now. So I texted Gabe next and asked him to look into it. If any of us could do a deep dive, it would be him.

  When I ran out of names, I even started watching a bunch of Dee-Cee Knight videos. She was really good. I could see why Dad and Bree liked her stuff so much.

  One of her songs was called “Hoops.” At the beginning, it showed these girls taking off their earrings, and you think they’re about to get in a fight. But then they’re really just getting ready to play some ball in the park. It was kind of great, actually.

  Even better, when it came to the credits at the end, I saw where it said LYRICS BY ZOE K. KNIGHT. And yeah, I was impressed. A lot.

  I also wondered what the K. stood for, just because I’m curious that way. It was like for every scary thought I kept having about Zoe’s situation, I had another thought about how much I liked this girl.

  Bottom line, I knew Zoe didn’t need me to save her. She was about as strong as they came, and besides, who was I to even think I could save her if I wanted to?

  But man, I sure did want to.

  I COULD FEEL it when I walked into school the next morning. Something was different.

  Sure enough, as soon as I got past security, I saw a big poster in the front hall with a picture of Zoe on it. The word ENOUGH was printed across the bottom in red letters, along with WASH LATIN LOVES ZK inside a heart.

  Word had obviously gotten around. I even had some people come up to me in the hall and tell me they’d heard about what I did.

  “You’re a hero, bro. Way to go,” Keith Sanders said as I passed by. There was that word again. I heard it a couple more times before I got to morning advisory, too.

  My homeroom teacher, Mrs. Achebe, always started the morning with us sitting in a circle at the back of her room. She had a bunch of beanbag chairs and pillows there, so we could “ease into the day,” as she sometimes said.

  “So, does everyone know about what happened to Zoe Knight over the weekend?” Mrs. Achebe asked. And every single person did.

  Patrice Shimm spoke up first. “It isn’t right. Black people are getting shot all the time in this city, and the police don’t do anything about it.”

  A bunch of people nodded at that, but I just kept still.

  “I heard you were there,” William Carter said, looking at me. “Is that true?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. I didn’t mind if anyone wanted to ask questions, but I wasn’t going to be offering up any stories on my own.

  “Do you want to say anything about it, Ali?” Mrs. Achebe asked. “It’s completely up to you.”

  “I heard you saved her life,” Destiny Sweeney said.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said. “I mean, she was hurt, for sure, but I just… did first aid.”

  I wasn’t trying to be fake-humble about it, either. I just couldn’t match up what they were saying with what actually happened. And besides, it seemed like we should be talking about Zoe, not me.

  “Do you know how she’s doing?” Mrs. Achebe asked.

  “She’s got a broken wrist,” I said. “And she’s still in the hospital, but I think she’s okay. Or at least, she will be.”

  Nobody said anything then. I noticed Destiny wipe her face on her sleeve, and Mrs. Achebe handed her a tissue.

  “It’s messed up, though,” Jamal said next. “I mean, Zoe Knight?”

  “Right?” Jasmine Washburn said. “Things ought to be different around here. It’s frustrating.”

  “Is there anything you kids think you could do about that?” Mrs. Achebe said.

  “Yes,” Patrice said.

  “And no,” Jasmine said, and the two of them fist-bumped. We all knew this was more complicated than just one simple answer.

  Patrice tried again. “I mean, kids are protesting and doing stuff all over the country.”

  “Right, but it’s the rich White kids who get all the attention,” Jasmine said. “Black kids have been protesting gun violence for a lot longer than just what you see on the news.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Mrs. Achebe said. “So let me ask again. Is there anything you all think you can do?”

  The bell rang before anyone could really get into it, but Mrs. A made us promise to put that one in the parking lot. We’d be talking more about it later.

  Then, as we were filing out for first period, Mrs. Achebe called me over to her desk.

  “How are you doing, hon?” she asked. “I was a little surprised to see you show up for school today.”

  “I’m okay,” I said. I felt like that’s all I’d been saying since Saturday afternoon. I wanted to shout it loud enough for the whole world to hear—I’M OKAY, I’M OKAY, I’M OKAY—just so people would stop asking.

  But of course, I didn’t do that. I knew Mrs. Achebe was just looking out for me.

  “Have you thought of writing about this for your social studies assignment?” she asked. “Gun violence is a part of life in Washington.”

  That was the assignment, to write something about “My Washington.” But I still hadn’t figured out what “My Washington” meant for me yet.

  “I don’t know,” I told Mrs. A. I really just meant no, but I didn’t want to get into it.

  “All right,” she said. She didn’t make me explain, which I also appreciated. “I’m here, if you want to talk, or brainstorm, or, you know. Whatever else.”

  And of course, I knew what she meant by “whatever else.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Love ya, Ali. Take care of yourself, okay? That’s not just a bumper sticker. I mean it.”

  Mrs. Achebe never held back, and never treated us like we were little kids. I kind of loved her back, but I never said so. That was just too goofy.

  “I gotta go,” I said. Then I scooted out the door and up the hall to math, just like it was any other day. Even if it wasn’t.

  IT HAPPENED FASTER than anyone thought. Word started circulating that morning, and then at twelve noon exactly, four hundred and thirty-two kids walked out of Washington Latin Middle School.

  I didn’t have anything to do with making it happen, but yeah, I walked out along with everyone else. People were ready to make a statement and they weren’t waiting around for the adults to help them make it.

  We started on the steps in front of the school, but pretty soon those filled up and we had to move across the street to the playing fields.

  The whole thing wasn’t supposed to be more than half an hour, and whoever had pulled it together chose Mekhi Thomas to speak for the student body. He was president of the eighth grade, and pretty good at firing people up, too.

  And I guess someone had made some calls, because by the time it got started, three news vans had shown up, along with maybe half a dozen other people with cameras and mini-recorders.

  Once everyone was on the field, Mekhi got up on the bleachers with a bullhorn that I’m pretty sure he got from the main office.

  In fact, when I looked around, I noticed our principal, Mr. Garmon, and Mrs. Achebe, and a whole ton of other teachers and school staff watching from around the edges. Technically, this walkout was against the rules, but they weren’t doing anything to stop it.

  I was standing near first base with Cedric and Mateo. Ruby was over with her girlfriends, and I was guessing Gabe was still inside. This wasn’t his kind of thing. He’s not the walkout-and-shout type.

  “We may be kids in the eyes of the law,” Mekhi said over the bullhorn. “Or in the eyes of our teachers, or parents, but we’re also citizens of this city. Am I right?” Everyone cheered and clapped at that.

  “We’re not trying to be adults,” Mekhi went on. “We’re not trying to be kids. We’re just living our lives. Ain’t nobody here setting out to get shot just going to school, or out to the park on a Saturday afternoon, if you know what I mean.”

  He was talking about Zoe, of course. That’s why I was there. For her sake.

  “But guess what? It can happen. And we live with it, because we don’t have a choice.”

  “That’s right!” people were yelling.

  And “Go on, Mekhi!”

  And “That’s what it is!”

  It was totally lit, but also peaceful. This felt like exactly what everyone needed right now.

  Including me. I was shook after what happened to Zoe, but I was mad, too. I hated that she had to go through this, and it helped to be out there on the field with everyone else. They were mad, too.

  Mekhi went on. “That’s what you hear all the time,” he said, while those cameras rolled and the rest of us listened. “They say, ‘there’s nothing we can do,’ and ‘that’s just the way it is.’ And they keep selling it like that, and we just keep on buying it, like that’s the deal we’re supposed to make. But guess what? Starting today, I say no deal. I say there is something we can do. In fact, we’re doing it right now!”

  “No deal!” some people started yelling, and Mekhi picked it up with the bullhorn, until everyone was chanting it together. You could probably hear it all over the neighborhood.

  “No deal! No deal! No deal!”

  “We need basic gun safety laws put into place,” Mekhi said, getting back at it, while people kept cheering.

  “We need to feel safe, coming to and going from school,” he said, and the cheering got even louder.

  “We need a police department that cares about kids like us,” he added. And this time, it turned into a lot of booing. Not for Mekhi, but for the police.

  That part felt like a punch I should have seen coming. I could feel some people around me looking my way just then, too. They knew who I was.

  “Don’t trip,” Cedric said, right up at my ear. He was seeing the same thing I was. “Just ignore them.”

  But then Patrice decided to push it a little further, even while Mekhi was still going.

  “What do you think about that, Ali?” she called over, with a little handful of her friends right there, backing her up.

  “Don’t start,” Mateo told her, but I answered anyway.

  “I think it’s true,” I said. “MPD can definitely do better. But that doesn’t mean every cop is bad, or that the department doesn’t care about what happened to Zoe.”

  I had the attention of a few more people now. So did Patrice, and she knew it.

  “What a shock,” she said. “Ali Cross, defending the police.”

  “I’m just saying, it’s complicated,” I told her.

  “And by the way, shut up, Patrice,” Cedric said.

  “Good one, Cedric,” she said back, sarcastically.

  “Come on.” Mateo started pulling both of us away. “It’s not worth getting into.”

  “Yeah, walk away,” Eddie Cruz said, because Mateo was pulling on my arm. My blood was pumping, too, and I’m glad he was there to step in. I didn’t want to say anything I’d regret. And I knew better than to get into a fight on school property. That hadn’t done me any favors the last time it happened.

  But I also knew that wasn’t the end of it. In fact, something told me this was just another beginning. And not in a good way.

  THAT NIGHT, WE all had spaghetti with Bree’s famous meat sauce for dinner, followed by brownies that Jannie had made for dessert, along with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge. It was really nice, like the first normal thing to happen since Zoe got hurt.

  But then, during dessert, Nana took out a map of the city and unfolded it on the table. I saw she’d marked it up with red and green magic marker, all around Southeast and Capitol Hill.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Moving forward, I want to be as clear as possible about what is and is not acceptable,” Nana said. “I thought some kind of visual aid might help.”

  Nana used to teach school for like forty years, so this was exactly her kind of thing. She liked charts and graphs and maps. And she liked things to be crystal clear, too.

  Dad and Bree were there, of course, but this was Nana’s call. She’s the one who kept track of me during the day. Or anytime the two of them weren’t around, which was totally unpredictable with Dad’s job. It’s not like Washington’s bad guys only work from nine to five.

  “This is serious, Ali,” Nana told me. “We’re not going to punish you for sneaking out to that music festival, although maybe we should. But we are going to have a talk about where it is and isn’t okay for you to be on your own.”

  “I wasn’t on my own,” I said, even though I knew what she’d say.

  “And you weren’t with an adult, either,” she told me.

  True enough. But I guess I just wasn’t in the mood.

  “This is so dumb,” I said. “I know I’m not supposed to cross the river. We’ve talked about it a million times.”

  “Well, apparently it’s going to take a million and one for you to get it,” Nana said. “This isn’t an inquisition, Ali—”

  “I didn’t say it was—”

  “Excuse me? Do not interrupt like that,” Nana said.

  “Sorry.”

  Dad squeezed my shoulder. He wasn’t going to take my side, but I could tell he knew this wasn’t easy for me. Still, they weren’t going to let me be disrespectful, either.

  So I tried again. “Seriously, Nana. I really am sorry. I just wanted to go to this thing with my friends, and I knew you wouldn’t let me. But to be honest, I think you worry too much. Like for real.”

  Bree and Dad looked at each other now, and then over at Nana.

  “I see,” she said, taking her time. “Well, I’ll be honest with you, too, Ali. That might have meant something more to me before what happened to Zoe on Saturday. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but after your deceptive behavior on top of that, I’m inclined to worry just a little bit more.”

  It was so frustrating, almost the same way it had been with Patrice and her friends. It wasn’t like I thought Nana was crazy, just like I didn’t think Patrice was making it up that the police department had some real problems. I could see all that.

  In other words, I could see Nana’s point. I just wasn’t sure she could see mine.

  Maybe it was just the day I’d had, but my eyes were starting to sting. The last thing I wanted right now was to start crying when I was trying to tell her I wanted to be taken more seriously.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she said. “Is there anything else you want to say?”

  “Yeah,” I told her. “See, my rules haven’t changed since fourth grade. That’s messed up. I mean, I know I’m still a kid, but I’m not a little kid anymore. And you just keep on acting like I am.”

  “Yes.” Nana sighed and folded her hands. She even looked a little sad herself now. “You’ve told me that a thousand times.”

  Something inside me kind of melted just then. Not because we’d figured anything out, but because I hated to see Nana Mama feeling bad. No matter what happens, I can never stay mad at her for more than a second.

  But I couldn’t resist getting in the last word, either. I scooted over and leaned right up against her then, and took a bite of her dessert. Just like I used to do when I actually was a little kid.