11 Years Old
When the first bomb hit the street outside the library, IM and Drum thought the Alltown MP were coming for the Mutafarrik. They had hit a dozen shipping yards, a dozen galleries, and a grip of trucks. It had been a few months since an extended stay in…well, civilization seemed an odd way to describe Southtown, but the ruins of Southtown were less wild than camping, which was mostly what they did. They were broke, somehow, and tired. They needed some place safe to sleep. The scene was hot. Retreat was in order. They’d made a few short passes through Southtown in the past 8 years--gigs at Pete’s, midnight feasts at the library, marking Princess’s head higher and higher on the wall. Wisdom and Knowledge’s paternal influence had extended to Suave and Lieu. Being here for the past weeks had made every one feel a little safer. Eights was with Mr. Vessey. Home. Everyone felt very at home. Just when they had all let their guard down, the foundation of the library quavered. Wisdom and Knowledge jumped to the same conclusion: Someone had given up the library. Was this how it would end?
Princess rallied the little ones to the basement cellar. She assumed her family, at least, would follow instinctively, but when she looked over at the master table where they were sitting, all were frozen to their seats. She grabbed Lieu and Suave by the wrists and pulled with all her might. “Come on. What’s wrong with ya’ll! Come on!” The two rose, and when they realized she’d lead them to safety, they picked up momentum. She pushed them in the directions of the stairs. Then she grabbed for Eights, who stumbled to a dash in her direction. She went to Drum and IM still staring, stock-still. “Come on! Please! Come on. IM. Daddy! Ya’ll come on, God! Get up!” As if her appeal to the Most High had released them, they jumped and ran for the hole. The whistle of the second bomb resonated through the walls, and the explosion devastated the once majestic library, burying the cellar door under the rubble of the dome.
“What the fuck is this?” Eights had found heaven on Earth. The cellar was completely finished, reinforced with soundproof walls, and furnished with a massive walk-in safe complete with a gargantuan, spinning lock. Eights ran over to it and gave it a million dollar spin. He spied the generator, against a wall lined with freezers, and four five-foot tanks. “What’s that,” he pointed at the tanks?
“Water,” Wisdom responded.
“Why ya’ll just now bring us down here?” Eights didn’t know if he was giddy from fear or discovery.
“Because we knew you’d never leave,” Knowledge beamed back.
“Or never stop talking about it,” Wisdom frowned.
“These kids built this,” Eights giggled. His eyes filled with tears.
“A lot of it. You know how we do, Eights.”
“I know. I remember building up the Jamaican Spot.”
“That project made me a hard working man,” Drum recalled. You alright?”
“Our collective power. I’m just tearing up, man.”
“It’s shock. Get your mind off it. We’re all safe. If you cry, they cry,” Wisdom nodded in the direction of the smallest group, who Princess and the older kids had organized into story time.
Know put his hand on Eights shoulder. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “They did a damn good job, too, didn’t they? Shit.” Tears welled up in Knowledge’s eyes, but he continued to laugh. “Shit. Fucking right these goddamn kids built this motherfucker. That’s karma.”
“That ain’t karma. Ya’ll be slaving these kids,” Lieu exclaimed, laughing wickedly, like it was an idea he had considered but never fully investigated.
“Service learning, young man,” Knowledge bragged. “In building something like this, the students hone a host of skills: math, physics, shop, reading, drafting, writing, leadership. The educational benefits are innumerable.
“As a matter of fact, the rabbit hole was conceived, designed, and implemented by Princess’s group. They were sick of recalculating how long our food and water supply would last every time we took in a new student. They decided that, if we were going to be buried from the stairwell, we needed to have another way out.”
“Come here Princess, let me give you a kiss,” Lieu shouted. The other kids oohed, much to Princess’s embarrassment. Princess looked up at Wisdom then at Lieu. She crossed nearer, but instead of venturing close enough to be kissed by the brown, handsome man, she offered her hand to shake. He kissed it. She scurried behind Wisdom.
“So, little Princess saved our lives twice,” Suave whispered.
“Princess, Princess, Princess,” Wisdom chanted.
IM scooped his sorely missed little sister onto his shoulder and flew her across the room, arms and legs akimbo. “Put me down. I’m too old.” He turned her upside down and shook her brains out of her ears. The other kids, younger and older, barely perceived of Princess as one of their peers. They delighted in the display of affection. The Mutafarrik were amused to see the Ill Militant tickle, tease, hug and tug at his little sister as if he were a big kid. Before long, however, Wisdom called Princess back into premature adulthood, requesting that she get the students and the guests set up with bedding. Wisdom and Knowledge told their sons that a serious conversation was required, and invited all of the boys to join. Only Lieu declined. Wisdom took note of this. He detected Princess’s special shyness around Lieu. Wisdom could see that IM had noticed it, too. IM trusted Lieu to be alone with Princess, and IM had always been an astute judge of character. Wisdom lowered his guard as well.
In the safe, Knowledge addressed the sons primarily: “Drum and IM--”
“--Since they bombed the Jamaican Spot.”
“Since they bombed the Jamaican Spot, IM.”
“You need us to stay,” Drum wanted his father to say no.
“No, Naw. Naw, Drum. You boys been plantings seeds, tilling the soil for change. All through Pete’s, all through the free wave radios, all through the Internet sub servers, we hearing about the Mutafarrik. I don’t know why ya’ll keep robbing those museums, but people seem to be inspired. I think it’s an unnecessary risk. I hate to see you get shot for stealing some damn 12th century lipstick case when you—“
“--That’s outside our praxis,” interrupted Eights.
“—whatever the praxis is, I hate to see you get fucked up for some art when you doing so much good with the medicine. Selling these Anti-Retrovirals, that is significant. I don’t want to offend you, though--“
“Is this my pop, Wisdom, worried about offending somebody?”
“Ya’ll getting to be men, now. I got to treat you as such.”
“But, they bomb the library, Drum, Johnstontine knows. Soon as you get here, Johnstontine knows you’re here. The how of it is…we're taking exile.”
“Ya’ll leaving Southtown?!” IM and Drum cried out together.
Eights whistled his shock. “What’s gonna happen to all the people here?”
“We won’t be gone forever. These children are ready to teach. We are at an impasse with our research. We developed treatments from all our domestic herbs.” Knowledge’s pitch lowered, and he grew more relaxed as he explained, “We don’t know a lot about transference in other climates, other sub-systems. Lily and Rosie can stay here and manage a clinic.”
“Lily and Rosie over our research. I hope they learned something.”
“IM, I hope you grow out of this. You know, we ain’t never really taught ya’ll too much about girls, women. Really didn’t know too much til Princess came along. But, for you sister’s sake, I hope you grow out of this anger you got towards women for being weak sometimes. That is okay. You can be weak sometimes, too. You can be weak for a woman. Lily likes you, boy. You know that girl will defend…”
“How does this pertain to revolution,” IM countered Wisdom with interrogation?
“More than you yet know.” Wisdom went on, “but the point is, we want to know if you mind? We talked with Doc and Sidgisman, already. Ernest and Pete are on board. I want to know how you feel about it, because I know you left to find yourselves and be independent.”
Know laughed. “That’s what you was gonna ask? I didn’t know you were going to go…”
Wisdom shifted his attention: “Stop laughing at me, Cousin.”
“Princess told him to say that,” Know revealed. “She said that maybe ya’ll wanted your independence. Hey, we got another thing to ask you guys.”
“Come on. Not yet. Let’s finish the necessaries first,” Wisdom said. Though Wisdom’s composure had not yet cracked, a quiver in his tone at this request just then sounded new to everyone in the room. He sounded more normal when he continued.
“I’m hesitating to tell my son this because he sensitive, but everything we see and hear about the drugs ain’t good. One thing that I know IM will be upset to hear is about these drug droughts. People are stocking up on ARVs and putting a run on the stock. While ya’ll are resupplying your clinic, people are reselling their stock for a hundred times your cost. Drug wars. It’s happening in Southtown—people shooting and killing for ARVS. I know IM’s solution is to always give up on niggers, but we can solve the problem by transitioning people from ARVS to these free, holistic treatments.”
“They gon’ kill ya’ll.”
“They might, Eights, they might. But we got to. The other risk with ARVs and medicine like that is…”
“--Drug resistance,” Suave completed the thought.
“Right, and that’s no joke,” intensified Wisdom.
“So, Mr. Wise. You want to, basically, feed off us? Running off with Eights and them didn’t turn out to be such a bad idea? Is this what you, Mr. Wise, would describe as seeing things come full circle?”
“Aight, Eights,” Wisdom warned with his tone. “You could see it that way. Maybe mid-circle.”
“I’ll take it,” Eights settled.
“I’m almost scared to ask him, Wise.”
"Not yet, Know.”
“Not that. I’ll let you handle that other.”
“What is it that you don’t want to bring up,” Drum inquired directly?
“I’m talking about Eights and Sidgisman right now. Sidgisman said something about a digital record or a database?”
“You have access to the Herbal...” IM corrected. “Wait, which database?”
“Weapons.”
“Do unto others to keep them from doing to you as you do unto them?” Eights laughed sardonically.
“What? Never mind. What database did you mean,” Know asked IM?
“I almost choked. I thought you all were on to the Herbal Cures Database. That’s what we’re looking for.”
“What’s that?”
Drum replied: “It’s the Rosetta Stone for Herbal Cures. Pre-Reparation, the sub-Asian region of what was India recorded all of their known herbs and corresponding medicinal properties to prevent pharmaceutical companies in the United States of America from patenting them and charging the natives fees for access to the herbs.”
Know looked at Wise. “If we found that database…”
Wise looked at his sons, “we could possibly cure HIV.”
“Don’t think so, Pops. You know--”
“--yes, IM. These kids have made some real advances with HIV. Even if we can’t cure it right off, we could train people to develop completely free treatments. Shouldn’t that somehow lead us to a cure?”
“I don’t feel it, Pops, cuz the virus shifts and changes so much. No way one thing is going to cure it. Maybe intense pressure from all fronts, but what could apply such pressure that it would destroy the virus before it mutates? I don’t believe the cure is going to look familiar. It won’t be a single drug or drug combination for every person. The cure will have to come out of specialized therapy.”
“See, and, as to the treatment aspect, Uncle Wise. We talked about this. We don’t want to just make it disappear this time. We want to cure it. So, we can’t let it disappear until we…”
“I been on board with that thinking for a while now, Drum, and now I’m wondering how righteous it is to let all these people die on principle. I can’t do it anymore! I can’t look in their eyes anymore! I’m no hypocrite. I’m no killer I’m no Johnstontine!”
“Mr. Wise,” Eights calmed Wisdom. “You talk about me, but your anger management skills are just not what they used to be.”
It shocked Suave, the silent observer, to see Wisdom smile in response to Eights peevish instigation. Now, Suave figured was a good time to ask: “who is Sidgisman?”
“Knuc,” Drum answered.
“Wow,” Suave whistled.
“Well, to the extent that you want guns to start manning up, getting armed and arming these clinics, you speaking the language, Mr. Wise, I been trying to tell these knuckleheads for a pretty minute. IM only one got my back, and Sidgisman, of course.”
“Don’t give my son a gun. He be done got into an argument with Drum and shot him. And you don’t need too many guns around because you gonna have Princess.”
“Woa,” before he could think twice, Suave cautioned. “The little girl? Mr. Wise, I don’t know if you understand how we live.”
“Hey, I know. I understand. It’s supposed to be this way. It’s right. I can think of a million reasons to try to take Princess with us, but Wise and I been having some wild dreams on this matter. If Princess gets stopped with false documents, they not gonna release her into the population. They gonna release her into Johnstontine's Public Orphan Care System.
“Now, you say you want to spend the next few years here in America. Plus, and Know has been feeling the same way on this, you need Princess. It’s in my dreams. It’s in his dreams. You do. With Strong Foundations gone from Southtown, you gonna need to take her with you. She can’t be no burden. She know she got to keep up. She know she got to be flexible and understanding. I’m just asking two, and really, one. I’m asking the man who adopted me.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“We leaving her here on her own.”
“What the fuck?” IM stood.
“Safer than JPOCS. Princess might be eleven, but she know how to get along. Rose and Lily know she’s here.”
“Great!”
“Hey,” Wisdom responded to his son, “I trust Princess. I am going to leave her here if you don’t take her. I promise; it will be your loss.”
“You can’t leave your sister,” Eights sighed.
“Naw,” Suave choked out.
The Mutafarrik concurred.
Know smiled proudly. “You can tell a lot about a man by the company he keeps. You got some good friends here, Corduroy.”
“Corduroy?” Suave burst out. To laugh was better than to cry. “Man, this bombing, and this sudden fatherhood shit, this visit really been a buzz kill, no run, but, on the upside, what I am learning about ya’ll through these names…Sidgisman? Corduroy? I’dve never guessed, Ill Militant.”
After the meeting, Eights stayed in the vault to talk to Wisdom about guns. Drum and Suave talked music and politics with Knowledge. IM went out to check on Princess.
Lieu serenaded the girl in his rough, heavy voice. Princess sat at his feet, head tilted, brow furrowed, eyes squinted, assessing. After a moment, her face softened. She giggled and joined in the song, guiding Lieu sweetly to the correct note. When he noticed IM, Lieu remarked, “this girl is a monster at Name That Tune. I mean your sister knows the title and melody to every song in black history.”
IM smiled proudly. “The diaspora. Especially roots reggae.” He listened only a moment longer before returning to the vault, thinking: our sister, now.
“Can I come, IM,” Princess asked? IM stopped in his tracks. Had Princess read his mind? Taking his pause as her cue, she raced over to him to be scooped into his embrace, tossed over his shoulder, and carried into the vault. Lieu followed as well.
Around 4:30 the next morning, Wisdom and Knowledge shook everyone awake and shepherded them through the rabbit hole. Princess had long known she would go with IM and Drum, if something were to happen to Wisdom and Knowledge. Still, the shock made the enormity of the change hard for Princess to grasp. She wanted to be with her brother, but didn’t want to feel like anybody’s burden. Besides, she should be placed in a clinic like the other kids her age. She wasn’t a baby. Know and Wise kept telling her it was so that she could watch over her brothers. To Princess, that was just a consolation.
“Real mothers” were adopting the smaller kids, who were like Princess’ babies. That is what Know and Wisdom had called them: “real mothers.” It broke her heart hugging them goodbye and knowing that they could only process the immediate—that Princess was not coming with them. Princess kissed each of her classmates goodbye; once everyone started crying, the departure began to feel like a torture. Princess kissed her uncle and her father goodbye. As her family walked off into the dark, Princess slid her arms into the straps of her backpack, all she now possessed in the world, and followed the Mutafarrik into the dawn.
Princess rallied the little ones to the basement cellar. She assumed her family, at least, would follow instinctively, but when she looked over at the master table where they were sitting, all were frozen to their seats. She grabbed Lieu and Suave by the wrists and pulled with all her might. “Come on. What’s wrong with ya’ll! Come on!” The two rose, and when they realized she’d lead them to safety, they picked up momentum. She pushed them in the directions of the stairs. Then she grabbed for Eights, who stumbled to a dash in her direction. She went to Drum and IM still staring, stock-still. “Come on! Please! Come on. IM. Daddy! Ya’ll come on, God! Get up!” As if her appeal to the Most High had released them, they jumped and ran for the hole. The whistle of the second bomb resonated through the walls, and the explosion devastated the once majestic library, burying the cellar door under the rubble of the dome.
“What the fuck is this?” Eights had found heaven on Earth. The cellar was completely finished, reinforced with soundproof walls, and furnished with a massive walk-in safe complete with a gargantuan, spinning lock. Eights ran over to it and gave it a million dollar spin. He spied the generator, against a wall lined with freezers, and four five-foot tanks. “What’s that,” he pointed at the tanks?“Water,” Wisdom responded.
“Why ya’ll just now bring us down here?” Eights didn’t know if he was giddy from fear or discovery.
“Because we knew you’d never leave,” Knowledge beamed back.
“Or never stop talking about it,” Wisdom frowned.
“These kids built this,” Eights giggled. His eyes filled with tears.
“A lot of it. You know how we do, Eights.”
“I know. I remember building up the Jamaican Spot.”
“That project made me a hard working man,” Drum recalled. You alright?”
“Our collective power. I’m just tearing up, man.”
“It’s shock. Get your mind off it. We’re all safe. If you cry, they cry,” Wisdom nodded in the direction of the smallest group, who Princess and the older kids had organized into story time.
Know put his hand on Eights shoulder. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “They did a damn good job, too, didn’t they? Shit.” Tears welled up in Knowledge’s eyes, but he continued to laugh. “Shit. Fucking right these goddamn kids built this motherfucker. That’s karma.”
“That ain’t karma. Ya’ll be slaving these kids,” Lieu exclaimed, laughing wickedly, like it was an idea he had considered but never fully investigated.“Service learning, young man,” Knowledge bragged. “In building something like this, the students hone a host of skills: math, physics, shop, reading, drafting, writing, leadership. The educational benefits are innumerable.
“As a matter of fact, the rabbit hole was conceived, designed, and implemented by Princess’s group. They were sick of recalculating how long our food and water supply would last every time we took in a new student. They decided that, if we were going to be buried from the stairwell, we needed to have another way out.”
“Come here Princess, let me give you a kiss,” Lieu shouted. The other kids oohed, much to Princess’s embarrassment. Princess looked up at Wisdom then at Lieu. She crossed nearer, but instead of venturing close enough to be kissed by the brown, handsome man, she offered her hand to shake. He kissed it. She scurried behind Wisdom.
“So, little Princess saved our lives twice,” Suave whispered.
“Princess, Princess, Princess,” Wisdom chanted.
IM scooped his sorely missed little sister onto his shoulder and flew her across the room, arms and legs akimbo. “Put me down. I’m too old.” He turned her upside down and shook her brains out of her ears. The other kids, younger and older, barely perceived of Princess as one of their peers. They delighted in the display of affection. The Mutafarrik were amused to see the Ill Militant tickle, tease, hug and tug at his little sister as if he were a big kid. Before long, however, Wisdom called Princess back into premature adulthood, requesting that she get the students and the guests set up with bedding. Wisdom and Knowledge told their sons that a serious conversation was required, and invited all of the boys to join. Only Lieu declined. Wisdom took note of this. He detected Princess’s special shyness around Lieu. Wisdom could see that IM had noticed it, too. IM trusted Lieu to be alone with Princess, and IM had always been an astute judge of character. Wisdom lowered his guard as well.
In the safe, Knowledge addressed the sons primarily: “Drum and IM--”“--Since they bombed the Jamaican Spot.”
“Since they bombed the Jamaican Spot, IM.”
“You need us to stay,” Drum wanted his father to say no.
“No, Naw. Naw, Drum. You boys been plantings seeds, tilling the soil for change. All through Pete’s, all through the free wave radios, all through the Internet sub servers, we hearing about the Mutafarrik. I don’t know why ya’ll keep robbing those museums, but people seem to be inspired. I think it’s an unnecessary risk. I hate to see you get shot for stealing some damn 12th century lipstick case when you—“
“--That’s outside our praxis,” interrupted Eights.
“—whatever the praxis is, I hate to see you get fucked up for some art when you doing so much good with the medicine. Selling these Anti-Retrovirals, that is significant. I don’t want to offend you, though--“
“Is this my pop, Wisdom, worried about offending somebody?”
“Ya’ll getting to be men, now. I got to treat you as such.”
“But, they bomb the library, Drum, Johnstontine knows. Soon as you get here, Johnstontine knows you’re here. The how of it is…we're taking exile.”
“Ya’ll leaving Southtown?!” IM and Drum cried out together.
Eights whistled his shock. “What’s gonna happen to all the people here?”
“We won’t be gone forever. These children are ready to teach. We are at an impasse with our research. We developed treatments from all our domestic herbs.” Knowledge’s pitch lowered, and he grew more relaxed as he explained, “We don’t know a lot about transference in other climates, other sub-systems. Lily and Rosie can stay here and manage a clinic.”
“Lily and Rosie over our research. I hope they learned something.”“IM, I hope you grow out of this. You know, we ain’t never really taught ya’ll too much about girls, women. Really didn’t know too much til Princess came along. But, for you sister’s sake, I hope you grow out of this anger you got towards women for being weak sometimes. That is okay. You can be weak sometimes, too. You can be weak for a woman. Lily likes you, boy. You know that girl will defend…”
“How does this pertain to revolution,” IM countered Wisdom with interrogation?
“More than you yet know.” Wisdom went on, “but the point is, we want to know if you mind? We talked with Doc and Sidgisman, already. Ernest and Pete are on board. I want to know how you feel about it, because I know you left to find yourselves and be independent.”
Know laughed. “That’s what you was gonna ask? I didn’t know you were going to go…”
Wisdom shifted his attention: “Stop laughing at me, Cousin.”
“Princess told him to say that,” Know revealed. “She said that maybe ya’ll wanted your independence. Hey, we got another thing to ask you guys.”
“Come on. Not yet. Let’s finish the necessaries first,” Wisdom said. Though Wisdom’s composure had not yet cracked, a quiver in his tone at this request just then sounded new to everyone in the room. He sounded more normal when he continued.“I’m hesitating to tell my son this because he sensitive, but everything we see and hear about the drugs ain’t good. One thing that I know IM will be upset to hear is about these drug droughts. People are stocking up on ARVs and putting a run on the stock. While ya’ll are resupplying your clinic, people are reselling their stock for a hundred times your cost. Drug wars. It’s happening in Southtown—people shooting and killing for ARVS. I know IM’s solution is to always give up on niggers, but we can solve the problem by transitioning people from ARVS to these free, holistic treatments.”
“They gon’ kill ya’ll.”
“They might, Eights, they might. But we got to. The other risk with ARVs and medicine like that is…”
“--Drug resistance,” Suave completed the thought.
“Right, and that’s no joke,” intensified Wisdom.
“So, Mr. Wise. You want to, basically, feed off us? Running off with Eights and them didn’t turn out to be such a bad idea? Is this what you, Mr. Wise, would describe as seeing things come full circle?”
“Aight, Eights,” Wisdom warned with his tone. “You could see it that way. Maybe mid-circle.”
“I’ll take it,” Eights settled.
“I’m almost scared to ask him, Wise.”
"Not yet, Know.”
“Not that. I’ll let you handle that other.”
“What is it that you don’t want to bring up,” Drum inquired directly?
“I’m talking about Eights and Sidgisman right now. Sidgisman said something about a digital record or a database?”
“You have access to the Herbal...” IM corrected. “Wait, which database?”
“Weapons.”
“Do unto others to keep them from doing to you as you do unto them?” Eights laughed sardonically.
“What? Never mind. What database did you mean,” Know asked IM?
“I almost choked. I thought you all were on to the Herbal Cures Database. That’s what we’re looking for.”
“What’s that?”
Drum replied: “It’s the Rosetta Stone for Herbal Cures. Pre-Reparation, the sub-Asian region of what was India recorded all of their known herbs and corresponding medicinal properties to prevent pharmaceutical companies in the United States of America from patenting them and charging the natives fees for access to the herbs.”
Know looked at Wise. “If we found that database…”
Wise looked at his sons, “we could possibly cure HIV.”
“Don’t think so, Pops. You know--”
“--yes, IM. These kids have made some real advances with HIV. Even if we can’t cure it right off, we could train people to develop completely free treatments. Shouldn’t that somehow lead us to a cure?”
“I don’t feel it, Pops, cuz the virus shifts and changes so much. No way one thing is going to cure it. Maybe intense pressure from all fronts, but what could apply such pressure that it would destroy the virus before it mutates? I don’t believe the cure is going to look familiar. It won’t be a single drug or drug combination for every person. The cure will have to come out of specialized therapy.”“See, and, as to the treatment aspect, Uncle Wise. We talked about this. We don’t want to just make it disappear this time. We want to cure it. So, we can’t let it disappear until we…”
“I been on board with that thinking for a while now, Drum, and now I’m wondering how righteous it is to let all these people die on principle. I can’t do it anymore! I can’t look in their eyes anymore! I’m no hypocrite. I’m no killer I’m no Johnstontine!”
“Mr. Wise,” Eights calmed Wisdom. “You talk about me, but your anger management skills are just not what they used to be.”
It shocked Suave, the silent observer, to see Wisdom smile in response to Eights peevish instigation. Now, Suave figured was a good time to ask: “who is Sidgisman?”
“Knuc,” Drum answered.
“Wow,” Suave whistled.
“Well, to the extent that you want guns to start manning up, getting armed and arming these clinics, you speaking the language, Mr. Wise, I been trying to tell these knuckleheads for a pretty minute. IM only one got my back, and Sidgisman, of course.”
“Don’t give my son a gun. He be done got into an argument with Drum and shot him. And you don’t need too many guns around because you gonna have Princess.”
“Woa,” before he could think twice, Suave cautioned. “The little girl? Mr. Wise, I don’t know if you understand how we live.”“Hey, I know. I understand. It’s supposed to be this way. It’s right. I can think of a million reasons to try to take Princess with us, but Wise and I been having some wild dreams on this matter. If Princess gets stopped with false documents, they not gonna release her into the population. They gonna release her into Johnstontine's Public Orphan Care System.
“Now, you say you want to spend the next few years here in America. Plus, and Know has been feeling the same way on this, you need Princess. It’s in my dreams. It’s in his dreams. You do. With Strong Foundations gone from Southtown, you gonna need to take her with you. She can’t be no burden. She know she got to keep up. She know she got to be flexible and understanding. I’m just asking two, and really, one. I’m asking the man who adopted me.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“We leaving her here on her own.”
“What the fuck?” IM stood.
“Safer than JPOCS. Princess might be eleven, but she know how to get along. Rose and Lily know she’s here.”
“Great!”
“Hey,” Wisdom responded to his son, “I trust Princess. I am going to leave her here if you don’t take her. I promise; it will be your loss.”
“You can’t leave your sister,” Eights sighed.
“Naw,” Suave choked out.
The Mutafarrik concurred.
Know smiled proudly. “You can tell a lot about a man by the company he keeps. You got some good friends here, Corduroy.”
“Corduroy?” Suave burst out. To laugh was better than to cry. “Man, this bombing, and this sudden fatherhood shit, this visit really been a buzz kill, no run, but, on the upside, what I am learning about ya’ll through these names…Sidgisman? Corduroy? I’dve never guessed, Ill Militant.”
After the meeting, Eights stayed in the vault to talk to Wisdom about guns. Drum and Suave talked music and politics with Knowledge. IM went out to check on Princess.
Lieu serenaded the girl in his rough, heavy voice. Princess sat at his feet, head tilted, brow furrowed, eyes squinted, assessing. After a moment, her face softened. She giggled and joined in the song, guiding Lieu sweetly to the correct note. When he noticed IM, Lieu remarked, “this girl is a monster at Name That Tune. I mean your sister knows the title and melody to every song in black history.”
IM smiled proudly. “The diaspora. Especially roots reggae.” He listened only a moment longer before returning to the vault, thinking: our sister, now.
“Can I come, IM,” Princess asked? IM stopped in his tracks. Had Princess read his mind? Taking his pause as her cue, she raced over to him to be scooped into his embrace, tossed over his shoulder, and carried into the vault. Lieu followed as well.
Around 4:30 the next morning, Wisdom and Knowledge shook everyone awake and shepherded them through the rabbit hole. Princess had long known she would go with IM and Drum, if something were to happen to Wisdom and Knowledge. Still, the shock made the enormity of the change hard for Princess to grasp. She wanted to be with her brother, but didn’t want to feel like anybody’s burden. Besides, she should be placed in a clinic like the other kids her age. She wasn’t a baby. Know and Wise kept telling her it was so that she could watch over her brothers. To Princess, that was just a consolation.“Real mothers” were adopting the smaller kids, who were like Princess’ babies. That is what Know and Wisdom had called them: “real mothers.” It broke her heart hugging them goodbye and knowing that they could only process the immediate—that Princess was not coming with them. Princess kissed each of her classmates goodbye; once everyone started crying, the departure began to feel like a torture. Princess kissed her uncle and her father goodbye. As her family walked off into the dark, Princess slid her arms into the straps of her backpack, all she now possessed in the world, and followed the Mutafarrik into the dawn.
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