Running Backward

By Jeremy Williams

Julian Wilson, a brilliant, African-American high school senior successfully constructs the world's first time travel device a few years after his father's death in order to see him alive again, but his younger brother, Darius, a fitness meathead and self-proclaimed ladies' man, has other plans for Julian's invention after he finds out what his nerdy sibling has been up to. At the demands of Darius, the two brothers travel farther into the past for fun and exploration, but they get more than they bargained for when they come face to face with famous black pioneers whom they've only read about in their textbooks, and after saving Rudy, a slave from the nineteenth century, by bringing him back to the present with them. Although the brothers are cautious about not changing the past, mistakes are made, history is altered, and the present is shifted in ways that even Julian's remarkable mind can't fathom, but does Julian's invention place him in a position of cosmic duty and moral responsibility? Darius seems to think so, steering the two brothers on a journey to right many wrongs, one in particular that could forever change America as we know it…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644246573

Jeremy Williams

Jeremy Williams grew up in Madagascar where he lived with his parents, two brothers, two sisters, a dog, three pigeons, sixteen chickens, four ducks, four tortoises, two cats that liked him and one that did not. There was no TV or computer games, so he read every children's book in the house, then Dad's history books and Mum's classic novels. Then he started on the encyclopedia. He read as far as G before somebody sent some new books. Unsurprisingly, Jeremy has only ever wanted to be a writer. Today he writes serious books for adults and less serious books for children. He still doesn't have quite enough books.

Book preview

Chapter One

Family

1852 May 24, 1:55 PM

Leon County, Florida

The sound of miniature bells faintly chimed through the treetops of the forest.

The hard soles of Rudy’s feet tore the tall, dry blades of grass from the ground as he bolted through the woods, breathing rapidly, a look of desperation mingled with profound fear upon his sweat-drenched face. A thick, iron, pronged collar rested about his neck, miniature clapper-bells dangling from the ends of the three curved rods protruding upward from the neck brace, ringing unceasingly. His dirty, ragged shirt stuck against his muscular torso as the cool wind caught his quick-maneuvering body, the sun’s rays beaming through the treetops and marking his dark brown skin with bright spots of light.

Rudy’s dark brown eyes darted in the direction behind him for a second; he looked forward again, dodging the thick trunk of an Eastern white pine tree, a small grunt escaping his full lips. His pace slowed as he cut between a few more of the trees, stopping and clutching one of them with his hand. He leaned against the hard, dry bark, his sweaty back pressed against the sturdy timber.

The middle-aged man placed his hands on the knees of his tattered, dingy shorts as he stood, crouched over, breathing heavily, staring back in the direction from whence he fled. He focused his sights on one of the clapper-bells hanging above his forehead; he pulled on the brass noisemaker, squeezing his tough hand around it. Rudy looked around the forest’s floor. A jagged, brown rock sat next to his ankle; he retrieved it, the three bells singing once again as they lightly swung back and forth. Rudy smashed the rock against one of the bells; all three bells swayed with a louder song, a new scuff decorating the waist of the abused instrument. He grasped the dusty bell, giving it another whack with his chime-beating stone. The clapper-bell trio rang again, a dent appearing on the sound bow of the battered instrument.

Birds chirped sweetly above Rudy’s head. He looked to the cloudy, bright, blue sky as dry leaves fell from above; he pulled at his thick, black, kinked hair, frustration filling his face, and dropped his head once again in fatigue. He lifted the rock again and hammered away at the collar, pieces of the rock chipping off and hitting him in the cheek. Rudy clenched his jaw tightly as his swinging pace increased.

The rock broke in half, the collar screw remaining intact.

Rudy frantically pulled at the collar, saliva collecting at the front of his teeth. He gave the brace a final, prolonged tug before exhaling in failure and crouching over again, his dusty hands meeting with his knees a second time.

A big drop of sweat fell from Rudy’s chin as he inhaled a deep breath.

All in the same moment, the chirping birds and clapper-bells fell silent.

The drop of sweat halted its descent.

The leaves were all at a standstill in midair.

Rudy’s breathing had ceased.

The world stood completely still.

Time had stopped.

2003 August 7, 3:15 AM

Orlando, Florida

The hinges squeaked softly as the door opened slowly. Four-year-old Julian peeked into the brilliantly lit, spacious garage as his small toes wriggled against the cold concrete, the wall air conditioner humming on full blast. One side of his frizzled afro stuck to his head while the other side reached out like branches on a tree. His dark brown skin collected goosebumps as his father, Joseph hunched over a wooden table covered with beakers, textbooks, and scattered lab notes. The tails of his white lab coat swayed gently against his legs as he fiddled with his written findings. He rubbed the top of his coarse, short, black hair, pausing for a moment, and then resumed his work.

An open flame from a Bunsen burner sitting on the table reflected off Joseph’s glasses. Cardboard boxes took up most of the garage space, accompanied by stacks of paper, dozens of full binders, a dusty globe that sat on one of the shelves, and many random gadgets constructed by Joseph.

Julian stepped down from the threshold, Joseph’s tall, broad figure casting a long shadow over his tiny frame. Joseph pulled a beaker closer to him as he adjusted his glasses and poured a blue liquid into the narrow neck of the instrument.

Julian’s little, full lips popped open, revealing his two front teeth as his dark brown eyes looked around the room at all his father’s belongings.

A life-size, slightly rusted, iron robot stood upright in one of the corners, cobwebs covering its metallic exterior.

Julian smiled wide and began to walk quietly over to the metal man, his skinny arms and legs moving back and forth quickly, and his little belly popping out of his sports-decorated pajamas.

Joseph’s voice broke the silence between him and his son. Now, didn’t your mother and I always tell you not to talk to strangers? A smile spread across Joseph’s face; he turned around as Julian giggled and ran over to him.

Joseph lifted Julian off the floor. He removed his glasses from his face, using them as a pointer to Julian as his son pulled at his suspender straps. Now, what are you doing up? It’s- Joseph checked his brown, leather-banded, white-faced watch, squinting his eyes at his wrist. "Oh, wow! What am I doing up?"

Julian grinned at Joseph and looked down at the table. Daddy, what’s that? His small finger signaled to the beaker of blue liquid.

Joseph put his glasses back on. "I knew one of you guys would be interested in this stuff… At least, I was hoping one of you would be. Joseph lifted Julian’s left hand and examined four small faded lines burned on his skin. I should’ve known it’d be you. Yeah, when your curiosity got the best of you after you reached for that old heater… You were just a toddler. We should’ve gotten rid of that thing a long time ago. Those hot coils must’ve intrigued your inquisitive mind, huh? Joseph picked up the beaker as he supported Julian with his other arm. You wanna know what this is?"

Julian nodded. "Can you tell me what in-quick-si-triv means, too?"

His father muffled out a short-winded chuckle. It just means that you’re curious; you question things a lot. Now, this here… Joseph looked Julian in the eyes. …this here is Kool-Aid.

Julian gave his dad a dull expression.

Yeah, this is a new flavor I’m working on. It’s-

No, it’s not, Daddy.

Joseph laughed. Yeah, you’re right; you got me; I can’t get anything past you. This is just another trial that we’re working on in the labs at my job. Sometimes, Dad takes work home with him. Joseph put the beaker back on the table.

Julian looked puzzled. Why?

Well, sometimes, my friends tell me that I can’t do something in the lab or that I’m wrong in my hypotheses, so I bring some of my work home, so I can do the tests myself…without all the fuss. Joseph cocked his head to the side as he looked Julian in the eyes. "You really are an inquisitive one, aren’t you? Hey! There goes that word again. Joseph poked Julian softly in the middle of his chest, Julian smirking slightly. You know, you never told me what you’re doing up."

Julian rubbed his eye with his small fist. I had a bad dream.

Joseph rubbed Julian’s back with his large hand. You wanna talk about it?

Julian shook his head.

His father stared him in the eyes, smiled, and rubbed his tangled afro. Okay, tough guy; maybe some other time.

What is all this stuff? Julian scratched the flat side of his hair.

Joseph put Julian down and straightened his glasses; stretching out his arms, he responded, "Son…this is science."

Julian’s eyes grew larger as he scanned the garage, his head turning in every direction.

"Everything you see down here is science. Science is the study of all things around us…so I guess you could say, everything is science."

Julian walked closer to the table, gripping the edge of it with both hands. He focused his sights on the beaker. "So, does that mean that I’m science?"

In a way, yes! Joseph pulled a pen and a small notepad out of his shirt pocket. Some might even say that you are the most peculiar part of science there is! I mean, there’s so much to learn about us, about human beings. He scribbled in his notepad.

But, people are so boring, Daddy. Julian’s eyes remained on the beaker.

Joseph smirked. It may seem that way, but the makeup of the human body and the way it works is infinitely interesting. For example, your brain is very powerful; the central nervous system is a universe all its own.

Joseph took off his glasses and wiped the lenses on an old, smudged, white cloth pulled from his pants pocket. He held them close to the open flame.

Like that bad dream you had? Something in your brain caused you to have that dream.

Joseph looked back to Julian.

Son?

Julian’s eyes left his dad and slowly met the floor.

Still don’t wanna talk about it?

Julian kept his sights on his feet.

Joseph sighed heavily. Okay, buddy…some other time.

Joseph smiled warmly at his son and raised the beaker of blue liquid. He placed it over the open flame. The liquid changed to a dark purple hue.

"Things in life change, son; a lot of those changes are due to science. The more we discover through science, the more we can control the change of things around us, and hopefully, people will use what they discover to better the world. There are changes that you may make through science, changes you can’t even begin to imagine."

Julian’s dark brown, wide eyes reflected the open flame.

2013 October 22, 1:45 PM

Julian stood in a black suit, struggling to straighten his tie, his blurry reflection looking back at him from the large mirror mounted on his dresser; he blinked away the tears welling in his eyes. His mother, Theresa walked past his open door wearing a black dress, her straightened, dark brown hair in a bun. She paused at the entrance, and then slowly walked in and placed her hand gently on Julian’s shoulder.

Here, baby; let me help. She smiled weakly at Julian as he looked his mother in her eyes. "Your father was never really good at fixing his ties, either."

Julian smiled back at his mom as a few tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheeks; he quickly wiped them away.

Theresa hugged Julian and planted her face in his chest as she sobbed softly. He sniffled, lightly brushing his mother’s back with his hand.

Theresa loosened her embrace and stared at Julian’s suitcoat and white dress shirt for a moment. Don’t forget your glasses, honey.

Julian nodded slightly, reaching for the black-framed, squared lenses on the dresser, and placed them on his face.

You’re just as handsome as your father, you know; I see him in you more and more every day. Theresa patted Julian on the chest as she straightened his tie once more. You know, that was your dad’s only bad quality: not knowing how to tie his tie.

Julian sniffled. Did that ever annoy you?

Theresa smiled, looking to Julian’s tie again. "No. Even though it was an easy thing, a little thing, I was happy to be there for him; I took every chance I could to be close to that man."

Julian gave a half-smile as tears welled up in Theresa’s eyes, and she left the room, her face in her hand as she wept bitterly. Julian’s smile faded. He took off his glasses and stared at them for a moment; he then placed them back on his face, looking at the empty doorway where his mother departed.

"The dreams started shortly after my dad’s death: there would be this big, white classroom that seemed to be endlessly spacious; I only call it a classroom because I would be there, sitting in this desk, the only desk in that weird place, and my dad would be standing about ten feet away from me in his usual lab uniform, his big, white coat on and everything. There was this loud, ticking clock on the wall that ALWAYS read 6:55, no matter how long I was in the room. The second hand would tick, making full circles around the clock, but the other two hands never moved.

He would be speaking to me; it almost felt like a lecture, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Everything that came from his mouth sounded all glitched and almost like a riddle that was impossible to figure out. He would just say the same incomprehensible gibberish over and over again in his broken, tangled speech, and the ticking of the clock would become louder and louder until it drowned his voice out completely; that’s how the dream always ended, that loud ticking of the second hand. I didn’t have the dreams every night, but they were always on my mind.

2:30 PM

The bishop stood at a podium in a cemetery, the grass and treetops blowing gently in the humid wind. The Sun’s rays streamed through the thick clouds; Joseph’s casket sat suspended above his open grave; a congregation of a few dozen people sat in fold away chairs wearing all black. Julian and Theresa sat in the front row, Julian’s younger siblings, Darius and Cassidy sitting next to him. Julian was fourteen, Darius was a year younger, and Cassidy was eleven.

The bishop opened a notebook full of his own handwriting and adjusted his reading glasses. "O God, our Heavenly Father, we are gathered under your skies this day to honor the life and memory of one, Joseph Wilson. We ask that Thou wouldst accept our prayers on behalf of Thy servant, a great and accomplished man of science. His work, research, and findings have benefited mankind; he has used his talents in such a way that we believe was pleasing unto Thee; he has, in short, done the work that Thou gavest him to do. As Brother Joseph leaves us and joins Thee at Thy side, we ask that Thou wouldst bless all our hearts and minds with memories of his ever-smiling face, his strong work ethic, and his optimistic personality. Bless his children to remember the amazing example of a man he was and bestow peace and love unto his wife in this trying time. Bless the Wilson Family to move forward, not through forgetting Brother Joseph, but rather through cherishing him. As our Lord saw life again through resurrection, we know that those we have lost will live again.

We bid Brother Joseph a heartfelt farewell and a safe journey home to Thee. Amen.

The bishop closed his notebook softly and nodded to the congregation.

The casket lowered into the grave.

The memory of that night with my father visited my mind. My own words whispered into my head: ‘I had a bad dream.’ Then my father’s words echoed in my mind: ‘You wanna talk about it?… Okay, tough guy; maybe some other time.’

Julian wiped a tear from his face, stood up, and took his mother by her hand as the congregation began singing Amazing Grace. He and his mother bent down and grabbed a handful of the dirt from the mound next to Joseph’s grave. Theresa released the dirt slowly over his casket. Julian stretched his hand over the grave and let Earth’s soil fall through his fingers. Tears streamed down his face as he watched his father’s casket descend into the ground.

"In that moment, I thought I would never see my father again; his funeral made it all too real; six feet under, felt more like galaxies apart.

"His death was so sudden to us; we knew nothing of his condition. The doctors told my mother he had been battling cancer, and that his wishes were to not disclose any information to anyone else until after his passing. He died in his sleep; he was only 43 years old.

"Rarely did he find rest in an actual bed; he was always so busy with his work. Our mother found him on the floor of our garage, his head resting on his balled-up lab coat.

"For most people, the story ends after their death, but in my dad’s case, I couldn’t let it go. Those words unceasingly echoed in my head: ‘Maybe some other time.’

I never told my father what my dream was about; I dreamt he died.

2017 January 9, 2:25 PM

Julian…

A high school classroom filled with whispering and light snickering as Julian’s snore grew louder, his head poorly held up by his hand and his short, closely trimmed, coarse hair sliding under his fingers; his tall, thin body sat crouched in his desk as he inhaled deeply and exhaled even bigger breaths.

All eyes set on the young scientist as his named was called again by his teacher, Mr. Dunn, an average-sized, middle-aged, white man with light brown hair that covered his forehead.

Julian…

Julian’s head slid closer to the surface of his desk, his glasses slipping from his eyes and his notes having already collected a few marks of drool.

A couple of black kids whispered amongst themselves as their eyes focused on the young scientist, one of them molding a piece of paper into a ball with his squeezing palm. Look at ‘dis fool. The boys laughed, giving each other fist bumps.

Mr. Dunn walked from behind his desk and over to Julian with a yard stick in his hand.

JULIAN!

The teacher slapped Julian’s desk with the ruler, Julian’s last snore being interrupted.

He jumped to consciousness, his glasses falling from his face and hitting the desk, contacting the small puddles of saliva. Julian quickly recovered his glasses and put them back on his face. Y-Yes, Mr. Dunn; what was the question? I’m sorry.

The students erupted with laughter, a paper ball hitting Julian in the back of the head. Julian quickly looked back at the two guys laughing; they quickly turned away from his glare, whispering to each other. He straightened his glasses and looked back to Mr. Dunn.

The instructor shook his head at Julian, walking back to the front of the classroom.

"As I was saying before my obviously boring lecture was interrupted-"

Julian shook his head at Mr. Dunn’s remark.

-you guys are expected to have this assignment on my desk by a week from today.

Julian quickly pulled out a pen and a miniature planner from his shirt pocket, sliding his brown suspender strap out of the way. He looked at his planner, squinting at the surface of the paper. He wiped the drool from his notes with the sleeve of his light blue, plaid dress shirt, a girl next to him making a disgusted look on her face. Squinting again, he looked up and stared at the drool on his lens; he removed his glasses and cleaned his spittle away.

The bell rang as Julian positioned his glasses on his face again, the rest of his classmates rushing out of the room, sounds of books being collected and zippers sealing backpacks. As the sound of footsteps minimized, Julian remained seated in his desk; the room became completely void of his peers. Julian placed his notes in a blue folder covered with a collage of scientific beakers, formulas, and numerous portrait stickers of Albert Einstein. He zipped up his backpack and took a deep breath, looking in Mr. Dunn’s direction as his teacher graded papers.

Julian stood up, his beige pant legs just touching his ankles, his white socks showing. He adjusted his suspenders as he put his backpack on, straightening the straps, and then adjusted his shirt collar. He walked over to Mr. Dunn’s desk, his brown dress shoes softly clicking against the white, tile floor as Mr. Dunn kept a focused eye on his students’ turned in assignments.

Mr. Dunn- Julian cleared his throat as his teacher put his red marker in the air.

You see this? Mr. Dunn twirled the marker in a circle, and then finally looked up at Julian with a slight smirk on his face.

Julian nodded, confused. "You mean…your marker?"

Mr. Dunn stood up from his small, rickety, wooden chair and met Julian’s eyes with his own. "Yes, Julian, the marker. Do you realize that you have never seen a red mark on any of your papers since you’ve been in my class?"

Julian nodded slowly, his eyes squinted. "And that’s a bad thing?"

Mr. Dunn snickered, his teeth barely visible from behind his thin lips. "That’s not a bad thing as much as it is a peculiar thing, Julian."

Mr. Dunn stuffed his hands into his pockets, his dark brown pants having gained a few chalk marks throughout the class period. You see, I can’t understand how someone who frequently falls asleep in my class always knows the material; it blows my mind!

Julian swallowed hard. Mr. Dunn, if you’re assuming that I cheat, I-

Cheating? Julian, I know you don’t cheat; it’s just not in you. You’re a good kid, and I can see that. Now, your brother is a different story…

Julian interrupted Mr. Dunn. My brother isn’t a bad kid, sir.

Mr. Dunn put his chalky hand up, a half-smile on his face. "That’s not what I meant, Julian. Your brother, Darius is just a little more…advantageous, so to speak. He takes advantage of opportunity, no matter what the risk may be. Sometimes, those opportunities get him in trouble."

Mr. Dunn stared at Julian for a moment, smirking lightly.

Is there something on my glasses, sir? Julian took his specs off and wiped them again on his sleeve.

"No, no, you’re good. I just wanted to tell you that you’re a brilliant young man, Julian. Your theories on…well, pretty much everything I teach in this class are phenomenal, and I don’t even ask for your theories! You go above and beyond on all your assignments and tests, and I just wish we had a gifted program or more advanced courses for students like you, but you know…federal funding." Mr. Dunn shook his fist in a jerking motion before opening his hand outward.

Julian huffed out a light chuckle.

What I’m trying to say is that I’m lucky to have you as a student. I know you’re going to be a great man one day.

Julian slowly put his glasses on, a confused look on his face. Okay, I saw this conversation going in a totally different direction.

Mr. Dunn smiled wide, baring all his pearly whites, and put his hand on Julian’s shoulder, shaking his frame a little. I’m not saying that falling asleep in my class is okay, but I’m just not worried that you won’t pass this course. You obviously know what you need to know. Just try to keep the snoring down to a minimum, okay? It’s hard enough getting these kids to understand chemistry without any distracting sound effects.

Julian smiled and straightened his glasses, pushing them against his nose. "Duly noted, sir…and I really am sorry for the sleeping; it’s weird because I’m good in the morning, but by this time of day, I guess I’m burned out."

Mr. Dunn smiled softly. No need for any further apologies; I’m a teacher; I get it. Julian smirked and turned to leave the classroom.

Mr. Dunn called after him. "You know, I would like to know what has you so tired all the time…"

Julian paused for a moment and looked down at his shoes; he spun around, making eye contact with his instructor. I’m working on a project; it’s been keeping me up at night.

Mr. Dunn’s light brown eyes widened as he leaned against his chipped, squeaky desk. "Oh, that’s exciting! I mean, of course, I don’t know what it is yet, but if it’s something you’re working on, I’m sure it’s incredible." Mr. Dunn stared at Julian for a moment, Julian tapping the straps of his backpack with his fingertips and his eyes wandering behind his glasses.

Well, are you gonna tell me what it is?

Julian shrugged his shoulders and gave a weak grin. Honestly, Mr. Dunn, it’s a little personal. I just-

Is this about your father?

Julian slowly turned his eyes away from Mr. Dunn and looked to his shoes again. The teacher put both his hands up. Say no more; consider your business to be none of mine.

Julian lifted his head. I’m sorry; I really wish I could talk more about it.

Mr. Dunn nodded his head. When the time is right, I’m sure you will, Julian. You have a good day, and don’t let your brother get you into any funny business. The instructor shot Julian a sincere smile.

"Honestly, sir, Darius probably keeps me out of more trouble than he puts me in."

Mr. Dunn nodded and nonchalantly waved at Julian, making his way back to the other side of his desk. Julian walked out of the classroom as Mr. Dunn picked up his red marker again and continued to grade his papers.

Julian walked in an upbeat manner, his high-water pants swaying with each step he took, his shoes clicking softly against the waxed floors of the empty hallway. He reached his locker, whistling the tune of a One Republic song, cooing out a portion of the lyrics. …a good, good life… He unlocked it and snatched the door open, revealing piles of paper with scientific formulas and theories written all over them, some of the writings smeared and some of the papers ripped and wrinkled beyond restoration. Thick textbooks and three-ring binders sat snug under the paper mess. Julian straightened his glasses, thumbed through the binders, and finally stopped at an unmarked, green folder in the middle.

…a good, good- Ah, there we are. Julian smiled and pulled the binder from the stack, the other binders on top gently dropping and closing the vacant space.

As he opened the folder, a loud applause came echoing from the doorway of the hall. Julian peered through the slits in his locker door, the light from the doorway entering through the open airways and hitting his glasses.

Three individual shadows approached Julian as one of them spoke: "Well, if it isn’t the Steve Urkel of Orlando."

The clapping came to a halt as Julian showed his face from behind the locker; he swallowed hard and pushed his glasses against his nose; sweat began to bead on his forehead.

The three guys closed in quickly on the young scientist and slammed Julian’s locker door shut.

Julian backed into the other lockers, clutching his green binder to his chest, his eyes filled with worry.

Ray, a bulky, black guy, leaned against Julian’s locker door, getting close to his face, his pants sagging under his bottom, revealing his blue-and-white, striped boxers. How about you come up off that backpack; I know you got a nice iPad or somethin’ in there.

Julian clutched the strap of his backpack tightly and straightened his glasses. I-I only have my laptop, wh-which is pretty old; I’m sure you wouldn’t even find much value in it, Ray.

Ray chuckled. I’m not here to get advice from some lame ass geek on electronics.

Julian’s facial expression changed from fear, to confusion. Really? Because we’re probably the best kind of people to ask about things like that.

Ray looked over his shoulder at his two friends, Manny, a stocky Puerto Rican, and Chris, a slender, tall black guy with long, frizzy hair. Manny smirked, brushing his short, gelled hair back with his hand. Chris stared dully, his dark brown eyes fixed on Julian, his forearm in a cast.

Ray looked back to Julian. You think this shit’s funny? You think it’s a game? You tryna be some kinda comedian?

Julian looked up for a moment, his glasses reflecting the ceiling lights. "Um…I’m not quite sure how you want me to answer that; I mean, I’ve calculated the number of altercations I’ve gotten into with you and the ratio of times that I’ve said what I thought you wanted me to say, versus the times I’ve said whatever first popped into my head, and every time, I’ve been hit by you. I guess that it does me no use to even calculate data like that because the outcome is always the same, so-"

Ray snatched Julian’s binder from his scarred hand and flung it to the floor, a few pages sliding out of the pockets. One of the pages read Time Manipulation on the top line.

Damnit, Ray! I need those notes!

Ray sucker-punched Julian in the stomach. The young scientist instantly leaned forward, wincing in pain, his glasses falling to the floor.

"I tried asking for it; guess I’ll just have to take your shit."

Julian struggled to look up. But, the battery is low on my computer; you wouldn’t get much use-

A long-winded whistle interrupted Julian as all three bullies observed the doorway. A tall, built figure made his way to Julian’s locker, walking slowly.

Chris took a step back in the opposite direction, his eyes fixed with fear on the much bigger individual.

Manny and Ray squinted as the sunlight encompassed the young man.

Julian looked up and took a deep sigh of relief as Darius’ gray-and-white, high top Jordan sneakers stopped a few feet away from him.

Ray pulled up his pants and balled up his fists, turning his sights on Darius.

Darius’ hair was faded on the sides with thick, kinked hair sitting atop his head; he wore baggy, khaki cargo shorts and a tight, gray t-shirt with an image of a dumbbell on the front of it; his frame was toned and bulky.

Ray’s voice escalated. What you want, nigga? You wanna catch one, too?

Darius glanced over at his brother holding his stomach as Julian used his other hand to retrieve his glasses, slowly rising again.

You okay, Jay?

Julian nodded quickly.

Ray stepped to Darius’ face, Darius standing about an inch taller than the bully.

Man, you must wanna get dealt-

Ray’s threat was cut short; Darius laid heavily into his stomach with his massive fist. Ray leaned forward; Darius quickly grabbed his forehead and aggressively pushed him backward, Ray losing his balance and hitting the ground, his back meeting the hard floor. He squealed in agony; his eyes were shut tight as he squirmed around on the ground, his sneakers squeaking against the floor as his legs peddled in a fit of extreme anguish.

Darius nonchalantly gave the gang of mischievous boys their farewell. "Try robbin’ a Best Buy or somethin’; you’d probably have better luck. That’s my brother; only I get to push him around; got it? Or y’all wanna turn out like your little ring leader here?" Darius lazily gestured his hand toward the easily defeated Ray.

Chris cradled his bandaged forearm with his good hand.

Manny took a few steps away from Darius, his back hitting the other wall of lockers.

How’s that arm doin’, Chris? Darius cracked his knuckles, smiling at him. Is it healin’ alright?

Chris took his eyes off Darius and tended to Ray; he held his hand out toward him; Ray swatted at his fingers and stood up slowly; he held his stomach with his hand and glared at Darius, hate and scorn in his eyes.

Darius shrugged his shoulders. Hey, eye for an eye, right?

Ray stumbled away from Darius and Julian, Manny and Chris following closely behind.

Manny took a comb from his back pocket and stroked his shiny, black hair with it as the three guys exited the building. You good?

Ray’s Man, shut up! was faintly heard around the corner.

How long were you there? Julian walked over to his spilled notes and collected them, placing the loose pages all back in his green binder, putting his glasses back on after.

’Bout one or two minutes.

Julian opened his locker and pulled out a few more papers along with a thick, hardback physics textbook. "You couldn’t have intervened any sooner, like say, before he commenced kicking my ass?" Julian rolled his eyes at Darius and shut his locker door, the slam echoing throughout the empty hall.

"I wanted to see what he was gonna do; I needed a reason to hit ’em; you know I only give these hands to the lames who deserve ’em."

Julian placed his things in his backpack and threw it over his shoulder, making his way to the exit, Darius following alongside him.

The hot wind blew against their faces as they made their way to the parking lot, the sun intensely beating against their dark skin.

A tall, young, black man dressed in a white, button-down shirt and a black bowtie stood in the breezeway, waving a thin stack of papers in the air. Learn your history, my black brothas and sistas! You are still a slave until you free your mind! Physical freedom was only the beginning! You must free your mind from the plagues and calamities brought upon the children of Africa by the greed and corruption of the white man! Free your mind! Learn your history! The shouting student stuck one of the papers out toward Darius, interrupting the brothers’ strides. Learn your history, my brotha. He sincerely smiled at the siblings, looking Darius in his eyes from behind his Malcolm X-styled glasses.

Darius hesitated, then took the paper in his hand, looking down at the colorful flyer decorated in red and gold borders, and green and black lettering:

"’BRINGING THE GIFTS THAT MY ANCESTORS GAVE,

I AM THE DREAM AND THE HOPE OF THE SLAVE.

I RISE. I RISE. I RISE.’

-MAYA ANGELOU