“Benjaminnnnnn….?” I sat there ignoring her yelling my name. I feel a sense of peace every time I sit at the piano, especially right before school. My mother, ever the planner and keeper of our calendar made no room for my tinkering in the early hours before I headed off to Monroe High. “Benjaminnnnnn...its 6:45am. Time to get ready…Now!!!” I breathed heavily to cleanse my lungs wishing the air that escaped wouldn’t be heard by my mother downstairs. In my house, a heavy breath would be seen as a sign of defiance and likely be met with swift and accurate punishment. I begrudgingly got up from the mahogany piano that was passed down through three generations of the Welshes, my mother’s family. The Welshes were all music lovers and for some reason, only I was blessed with the piano playing gene. My grandparents were composers, and my mother and aunt May were both opera singers when they were younger. My brother and sister loved listening to music, but playing an instrument was not in their DNA.
Walking to my bedroom through our row house located in the heart of Northwest Washington, DC, I tried to avoid the hardwood floor panels that I knew creaked loud enough to alert my mother that I had been in the music room, instead of adhering to the daily morning routine, wake up, say a prayer, brush your teeth, wash your face, get dressed, and get down to breakfast by 6:45am. I inched toward the bathroom that my older brother Benedict and I shared and got close to the door when my flannel pajama pants caught the elongated door handle and flung it open, exposing Benedict flexing in front of the mirror. His sinister grin greeted me, “I’m tellin! Mooooommmmmmm Benji ain’t ready yetttttt!” I glared at him. “Benjamin…Let’s. Go. Now.” My mother demanded. I gritted my teeth and gestured like I was going to punch Benedict and he flinched like a scared puppy. “Get out! I gotta get ready.” Benedict feigned a scared smirk and trotted off down the semi-circular staircase to breakfast. I slammed the door behind him.
Benedict is 16 months older than me. He acts more like a younger brother, though. He is hell bent on making my life miserable. He was home from college for the summer. When he attended Monroe he was voted Most Popular and Best Personality. He had the ability to draw masses of people to himself and I hated, and admired him for it. Benedict is an extrovert. He's always in the front, whether running for class president, organizing the one and only boycott of the lunchroom at Monroe, or graduating the year before as class salutatorian. He is annoying and admirable. Having him home from Hampton where he studies political science is going to be the most painful 2-1/2 months of my life. I, on the other hand, am the unwilling beneficiary of the Banneker legacy. Being Benedict’s little brother is hard. I have no interest in being in the front. I am content with being in the background. The pains of everyone expecting me to be like my brother is often unbearable. I despise being called one of the “Banneker boys.” I am my own person and I desire to write my own narrative and chart my own course in my life and create my own identity. This is my senior year and although I do well in school, I haven’t thought about what I want to go to study in college. What I do know is that my dream school is Tuskegee University. Throughout my childhood my parents made it clear that every Banneker must attend college, more specifically, one of the 100+ HBCUs. “Your only choice is which HBCU to attend, Benjamin,” my father would say. I had settled on Fisk, Tuskegee, or Morehouse, but when I visited Tuskegee on a family vacation, I stepped foot on the campus, and I felt at home. My parents both graduated from Cheney, and Benedict was shaking up the world at Hampton. I had no intention of going to either of those schools because I wanted to escape being tied to someone else’s success. I wanted to be my own man and Tuskegee was exactly where I want to be.
I threw on my favorite Howard University sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and bounded down the staircase where my mother stood, tapping her foot and looking at the Timex watch that my father had bought her the Christmas before. “Benjamin…it’s 7:17. You’re late! I swear, boy, you’re late for everything! Time management is not your forte. Let’s go!” I glanced over at Benedict and our sister, Brianna and both were grinning from ear to ear. They got sick pleasure when I was reprimanded by our parents. When we were kids, Benedict could talk his way out of punishment and Brianna was the youngest and the only girl so she could do no wrong. I was sandwiched between the two, fighting to just be an individual with my own ideas and ideals.
Today, our daily walk to school was reduced to a run. Benedict had promised to walk Brianna because she wanted everyone to see her "favorite big brother" who was home from college for the summer. After dropping her off, he had planned to come to Monroe and be doted on by the faculty and office staff that constantly reminded me of how amazing he had been while he attended. His task was simple, watch Brianna make the quick left toward her middle school, wait for her to meet the crossing guard, and then he would make a B-line to Monroe. As we walked, I noticed that Benedict was about 100 paces ahead of us. Here we go again, I thought. Benedict looked at me, “Hey…Mr. Huldin is waiting for me. He wants me to speak to his homeroom class about how amazing I am. Take Bri. I wanna make sure everyone sees me before the bell rings. Thanks.” He thought he was a celebrity. Geez. What a tool. Before I could answer, he was already out of sight.
Benedict always managed to shirk responsibility, including dropping off our sister to school after he promised to do so. He knew that I couldn’t do it because, inevitably, I would have to run like the wind to try to make it to school on time. I was NEVER on time. I was late pretty much all the time. I was even born late. If an event was at 1:00pm, my parents would tell me that it started at 11:00am just so I wouldn’t be late. I still was. It was only October and I had already been tardy 16 times. What was worse, was that my first period class was with Mr. Jenkins who taught History. He's a horrible man. Legend has it that he was a divorcee whose wife left him for a rich business owner. All the kids thought that he was bitter about the divorce, but I sensed his anger stemmed from a much deeper place. He would have these weird moments where he would drift off on a tangent that had little to do with the topic at hand, only to regain himself and rage against the students. I, for some reason, was a frequent target of his rants, especially when I was late to class. I feared that this day would be no different.
I watched as Benedict disappeared into the distance and Brianna faded behind me as she checked her overly made-up face in her pink hand mirror that she attached to a carabiner that hooked to her pink backpack. “C’mon girl…ain’t nobody lookin’ at you!”
“Benji, you don’t know WHO is lookin’ at me!” She said with a finger snap, a hair toss, “I know ain’t no body lookin’ at you with your big old watermelon head!” Brianna replied with sass in her voice. She was dressed in her signature pink and tipped down the street like a wobbly baby giraffe trying to find her footing in heels that were way to high for an 8th grader to wear to school, or anywhere, for that matter. My little sister has no interest in anything or anyone but herself. My parents have created a vain, self-absorbed monster who dresses like Barbie. “C’mon girl or imma leave you out here!” I said. She trotted to me as I stopped to wait for her to catch up. The click of her heels reverberated on the pavement like the tick of a watch. The streets of DC were not one’s where you could leave a teenage girl alone to fend for herself, especially one in heels and fixated on the screen of her phone. There hadn’t been kidnappings or anything like that, but my sister had no street smarts, and she could easily be wooed by eager men passing by in a nice car or offering a compliment.
We reached the crossing guard and I told her to have a good day. “Aight, be right here after school, Bri. I’m not playin’. I got st uff to doand I don’t have time to wait for you. Ok?” I said. “Whatever big head! See you later.” She responded. I smiled to myself because even though we bantered back and forth, Bri and I have always had a close relationship. She is a pain, but she's my little sister.
I checked my watch, “shit…7:43am! Two minutes. There’s no way I’m going to make it!” I started running as fast as I could toward Monroe. “If I can cross Washington and there’s no light, and Mr. Jenkins is recovering from a bender from last night, then I won’t be late.” As I approached Washington Avenue – green light! I was about 30 yards from the intersection and then, boom red light! “Shit!” Standing at the intersection, I checked my watch again, 7:44am.
Just as the light turned green and I was preparing to run again, I stepped off the curb and a white sedan damn near ran me over while trying to make a left. “Hey asshole…you almost killed me!” I yelled while slapping the hood of the car. The car stopped, reversed and the dark window rolled down. I braced myself. In my neighborhood, the only reason that people stop, reverse, and roll down their window was to cuss you out or shoot, or both. Either way, I braced myself for what was coming. The driver, a white-haired man with a double chin, wearing wired sunglasses, tipped his shades and looked over the lenses at me, “My fault, son, I didn’t see you. Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m cool.” I replied. The man went on, “On your way to Monroe? I can give you a lift.”
It was already 7:45am and I was officially late for school. Getting a ride would only matter if Mr. Jenkins was late or hung over, or both. I couldn’t risk a 17th tardy, but I also didn’t want to end up on the news because I got into a car with a strange white haired white man. I weighed what would be worse; my parents getting another tardy notice in the mail, jeopardizing my ability to participate in the graduation ceremony, or potential kidnapping, murder, and being buried in a shallow grave. I decided that hopping into the car was my best bet. I had no interest in dealing with the “early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable” lecture that would surely come if my parents got yet another tardy notice.
Peering into the window, I checked the interior of the car looking for anything that could be used to kill me. Nothing. I got in.
“I’m Andy. What’s your name?” the man asked. “I’m Benji. Are you going to kidnap and kill me because I have a huge History final next week and I really cant miss it.” I said.
Andy laughed, “No, I’m not going to kill you. I am going to drop you off so that you don’t get another tardy slip.”
Andy navigated down Washington and I could see Monroe about a block away. “History class,” he said, “I loved history when I was a kid.” I looked out the window, “I hate history. Who cares about what happened in the past when there’s so much going on now.” Just then, Andy jerked the steering wheel and made a sharp left down an empty alley. Oh shit…he IS going to kidnap and kill me. “Aye, I can get our here. Thanks.” I said trying to stay calm and not alert Andy to my obvious panicked state. He sped down the alley kicking up dust and trash along the way. Terror swept through my body. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. “Aye man, slow down” I said as I gripped the seat. My knuckles cramped and my legs grew gelatinous. I thought I was going to pass out. Andy was speechless and his eyes were fixed on the road. I looked through the windshield and saw the brick wall, that we were about to hit, fast approaching, and I dropped my head, screamed, and braced myself for impact. Suddenly, Andy hit the brakes. I heard the screech and could smell the burn of the brake pads as the car jerked forward with enough force to thrust me and my backpack to the dashboard. “What the fuck man! You’re crazy. You could have killed us!” I screamed. Andy’s said nothing and his eyes stayed fixed on the brick wall ahead.
He turned slowly toward me with a slight smile, still griping the steering wheel, “Benji, do you know that the most powerful emotion on earth is fear? Fear makes people do crazy things. Fear is the ultimate high and is often the source of emotional and physical paralysis.” Andy said, his glasses off and his eyes now fixed on me. I locked eyes with him and said, “Aye dude, I just want to get to school. Thanks for the ride, but you’re crazy. I gotta go.” I reached for the door handle, grabbed my bag, and stepped out of the car. In my mind, I wanted to run, but my instincts said to walk, calmly down the alley back to Washington Street, then, as I round the corner, I'd sprint! Before I could close my door, Andy threw the car in reverse, the door, narrowly missing me. He rolled down the passenger side window and yelled out, “Question 17. The answer is A.” What the hell? He backed the car out of the alley and sped off to the right heading down Washington. What the hell just happened? I thought. I checked my watch. Fuck 7:52am.
I got to Mr. Jenkins class sweaty and late. As I threw open the door, there he sat, pen in hand, with his feet propped up on his metal desk that was stacked with papers and books that he never touched. “Nice of you to join us Benjamin. You’re just in time for a pop quiz…and this tardy slip.” Fuck. I almost died and now my parents are going to kill me.
The bell ending sixth period and my last formal day of high school rang. I felt a sense of relief as I gathered my backpack and my bottle of water that I had purchased during lunch at the vending machine near the teacher’s lounge. Walking the halls of Monroe knowing that my high school days were ending made me feel happy and sad. I’d miss the safety and comfort of knowing what was next, but I was also ready to get out of DC.
Bri and I got home and I flopped on the couch. I stared at the ceiling thinking about what had happened earlier. Nobody knew that I was in a speeding car with a mad man, who almost killed me. I knew that I needed to intercept the phone call that would come from my school alerting my parents to my 17th tardy. Even though I only had one week of school remaining, they wanted to make sure I ended with a bang, and that didn’t include a call from our principal, Mrs. Kenton. Plus, they thought my tardiness was some sort of blemish on our pristine family image. I didn’t understand it, but I knew that my parents would explode.
The house phone rang.
“I got it,” I said. “Hello?” I heard a familiar voice on the other line.
“Hello Ben.” It took me a moment to place the voice.
“Andy?” I asked. My blood ran cold, and my heart sank. Dear God he’s gonna kill me, he knows my phone number.
“Hey kid. I just wanted to apologize for today.” He said.
“How did you get my number?” I asked.
“Ben, I know everything about you. I’d like to meet. I need to talk to you about something very important.”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t know who you are or how you got my number, but I’m damn sure not meeting up with you. Forget this number.” I pulled the phone from my ear to disconnect the call. I heard Andy in the earpiece, “Wait..wait. I know you don’t know me, but I assure you, if we don’t meet, your life will most certainly be in danger. What if I told you that all your worries about college, Benedict, school and your parents could vanish? Would you come then? Hell, I can even guarantee that you’ll graduate salutatorian like Benedict.”
“How do you know all this? Who are you and what do you want with me?” I asked.
“Ben, trust me, I need to speak with you tonight. Meet me at the cornerstone of the Capitol at exactly 6:51pm, not a minute later. I’ll be there waiting. Come alone. Understand?”
I looked at my watch. It was 4:34pm.
“Why should I trust you? What’s in it for me?”
“Ben, you should trust me because I didn’t kill you today in the car when I could have. You should trust me because you and I both know that you want to do something extraordinary and what’s in it for you? I’m giving you a chance to change the world.”
“What does that mean?” Before he could answer, the phone disconnected.
I hung up the phone and stood staring out the window. Who was this guy?
I opened my laptop. I’m gonna Google this guy. I typed, “Weird guy named Andy.” Pictures of Andy Dick and Andy Milinokis popped up. I slammed my laptop closed in frustration. Who was this guy and why did he want me to meet him? I opened my laptop again and Googled, “Cornerstone of the US Capitol.” The US Senate website read:
“On September 18, 1793, President George Washington laid the cornerstone of the U.S.
Capitol. A Virginia newspaper, the Alexandria Gazette, recorded how Washington crossed
the Potomac and was met by two brass bands, a volunteer artillery company, and
delegation of Masons in full regalia.”
What the hell does this have to do with anything? I didn’t even know where the cornerstone was at the Capitol. Being from DC, I had been there a thousand times for field trips in elementary school and every time a family member came from out of town. I snapped out of my thoughts and remembered that I was really thinking about meeting a homicidal, road raged, mad man that tried to kill me this morning. Plus, I had to study for finals. No. I'm not that curious or crazy to meet this guy.
Brianna walked in and must have saw my perplexed look. “What’s wrong with you? You look crazy.” She said as she held her trusted cell phone. “Do you ever put that thing down?” I asked. “No. I have to keep up with my followers. Hey…do this Tik Tok with me. It goes…” Brianna proceeded to move her arms like she was having a seizure and roll her body while sticking her tongue out. “You better not let mom see you doing whatever the hell that was.” She flipped her hair and glared at me, “You just mad you can’t dance like me! I’m Instafamous…you betta recognize!” She model walked out of the room and when she got to the hallway, she dropped to floor like a stripper and twerked. I shook my head and returned to my thoughts.
I don’t have anything to lose…except my life. My curiosity was going to get the best of me and I knew in my heart that if I didn’t go, Andy wasn’t going to leave me alone. I’ll tell my parents that I have a late study session at the library and that I’d be home at about 10:00pm. I could catch the late train to the Capitol Mall and then catch a Uber back home. Yeah. That'll work. I grappled with the idea of leaving a note sharing what had happened earlier just in case Andy was a murderer. I’d write that he was a white guy with a wire-rimmed sunglasses, an unlisted phone number, who drove a white sedan. I wondered if that was enough of a description for the police to identify him. Either way, my curiosity won out and I decided that I was going to meet him.
I heard my mom coming through the front door. “Hey…someone help me with these groceries.” I ran to her aid. “Hey honey. How was school today?” I wanted to say, “Mom, I got into the car with a weird guy named Andy who almost killed, I was late for school and may not be eligible to walk during graduation, and I’m about to lie to you because I’m going to go meet the murdering weirdo from today.” I didn’t. “Cool.”
“I got a call from school, Ben.” My mother said. Oh shit…I’m dead. No graduation ceremony and shaming the family name. This is it. Fuck. “Me and your father are so proud of you. Salutatorian! I knew you were doing well, but honestly, I didn’t know that you were doing that well in school.” Me neither, I thought. I stood in shock. I answered her, trying to control my stunned reaction, “Thanks mom. Wh...When did the school call?” “This morning. Mrs. Kenton called right after you left this morning. I wanted to call you on your cell, but I knew that you were in class.”
I stood still, stunned.
“Mrs. Kenton said, ‘those Banneker boys did it again!’” I was barely passing history. I mean, I wasn’t a bad student by any means, but salutatorian was not even close to being on my radar. I knew at least 50 students that had better grades who were in AP and CP classes.
My mother hugged me , “I bought your favorite for dinner…Salmon! Tonight, we are going to celebrate.” I shook my head, “Uh…thanks mom, but I can’t stay for dinner. I have a study session for history tonight at the library and I gotta go.” My mom looked up at me and stopped putting the groceries away, “My baby. Look at you! Already salutatorian and you still want to study! You're a Banneker for sure. I’m so proud.” I grinned, uncomfortable with all her praise. “Well, don’t be late and I’ll make sure I leave you a plate in the oven. Also, your dad wants you to call him so that he can congratulate you too.” “Ok mom. I’ll call him.” I said as I backed out of the kitchen.
My mind was swirling. If Mrs. Kenton called this morning, then that was before I even met Andy and how did he know that Benedict had been the salutatorian? How did he know me? How in the world did I get the honor of salutatorian in one day? He must have known me before picking me up, right? I couldn’t process all of the thoughts that I was having. I glanced at my watch. 5:20pm. I had and hour and a half to get to the Capitol.
I gathered my backpack, two $20 bills from my desk drawer, and my cell phone. I walked down the stairs and inched toward the kitchen. I opened the cutlery drawer and grabbed a steak knife just in case I needed to defend myself. I tucked the knife into my jacket pocket and walked to the front door. “Moooommmmm…I’m leaving to go to the library. See ya later.” “Alright honey. Be careful and don’t forget to call your dad.” She yelled back from the study upstairs. “Ok. I will.” With that, I headed to the train station to either certain death or a change of my life. I didn’t know which one would be the outcome of this meeting, but I couldn’t resist the pull to get to the cornerstone of the Capitol to see.
Arriving at the Capitol in the evening was magical. The way the building is lit offers a sense of hope and optimism. There is something about the majesty of those white columns and the stately trees that makes the building seem sacred and holy. I shuttered thinking about the insurrection that took place just a few months before me and Andy’s first meeting. An uneducated, angry mob of pseud-patriots forced their way in and ravaged, disrespected, and desecrated a building that was built by slaves and that housed the heart of American Democracy. They caused our lawmakers to run and hid and they murdered police officers and private citizens all in the name of a false and absurd narrative spewed by a twice impeached president who failed this country miserably. I peered through the chain-link fences that had been erected after the insurrection wondering where the cornerstone was and how I would even get close enough to the building to see it and meet Andy. I checked my watch. 6:45pm. I had to find the cornerstone fast since Andy told me 6:51pm on the dot. I walked around to the back of the Capitol and found an officer. “Excuse me sir? Can you tell me where I can find the the cornerstone of the Capitol?” The officer replied, “Which one do you want to find? The first one or the second one?” I looked at him blankly, “There’s two?” The officer laughed, “Yes, there are two, but we only know the location of one…the first one is missing. In 1991, a search for the first Capitol Cornerstone was conducted including use of a metal detector to locate the engraved plate—it was not found. I can tell you where the second one is.” I was perplexed. Why wouldn’t Andy tell me that there were 2? Maybe he didn’t know. “Yeah, where’s the second one? I’m doing a research paper for my history class, and I need to get a picture of it for a collage.” The lie flew off my tongue. 6:49pm. The officer directed me to the northeast corner of the House side of the Capitol. I rounded the corner and there stood Andy. I walked up at exactly 6:51pm.
“On time,” he said. He was dressed in all black and had the same wire rimmed glasses on. This time, the lenses were clear and I could see his eyes. They were dark brown and unnaturally large. He stood with his hands in his coat pockets.
“What now. I’m here. Why am I here?” I asked. “And just so you know, there are cameras all over the place since the insurrection so if you’re planning to kill me, don't! You’re going to get caught.” Andy chuckled, “How many times to I have to tell you, I’m not trying to kill you. In fact, Benji, I’m trying to save you.” “From what?” I asked, although, I was almost afraid of his answer. “Let’s take a walk.” Andy began walking closer to the Capitol.
“Benji, this building, this symbol of Democracy is all that we have in the country. Each piece of sandstone and marble was touched by Black hands that couldn’t enter the doors after it’s construction. Hundreds of years later, white hands waving Nazi flags and the campaign flag of a disgraced president stormed these sacred grounds for no reason at all. Within these walls are the skeletal remains of decisions that rule our lives and have changed the course of human history. These walls, this cornerstone holds the country up and offers hope and healing to the entire world.”
By this time, we had walked all the way up the steps of the Capitol. The moon was peaking from behind the cumulus clouds that had formed. “Andy, what does this have to do with me? Why did you want me to come here?" Andy turned and removed his glasses. “Benji, you have been chosen to cure the country of the greatest sickness known to mankind. It has killed millions and if a cure isn’t found by 2038, the world as we know it will cease to exist.”
“What the hell? I’m not a doctor. I’m a high school senior with a horrible attendance record! What is this disease anyway? Cancer?” I asked. “I wish the disease was as merciful as Cancer. This disease has been part of a secret government experiment that began in 1749 and has festered for centuries. Millions have died and even more are afflicted and don’t even know it. It has a name, but only specific researchers know what it is. It isn’t part of the public domain, and it is highly classified. There are only a handful of people who know of the research and every 17 years, a new member must be brought into the fold to aid in finding a cure. The difference now is that in 17 years, the disease will have metastasized to such an extent that it will be completely out of control, and our efforts to continue to isolate the the source will be impossible to maintain. Our current treatments will be ineffective and death will come to every door.”
“What? So, I’m the next in line to research some crazy killer disease? I’m a kid. I can’t even keep my room clean, let alone find a cure for some government disease. Nah…I can’t. I’m going to college in the Fall. I can’t be involved in some government conspiracy crap. Nah.” I zipped my jacket and readjusted my backpack. “I gotta go Andy. This has been cool, but you’re crazy and good luck with your disease curing thing.”
Andy turned his back to me, “Benji, I called you here not to ask you, but to tell you about your assignment. You don’t have a choice in the matter. Don’t you get it? You were called and commanded to do this work. That’s it. You don’t get to say ‘no.’”
I turned back to him. “Who commanded me? What are you talking about? This is a free country! I can say ‘no’ whenever I want.”
Andy turned to me and put his glasses back on. “Your command has been given. Your next steps will be given to you through this cell phone.” He handed me an old school flip phone. “What the heck is this ancient relic? How do I even work this thing?” I laughed nervously. "And who is going to call me?" Andy didn’t flinch. “Wait for further instruction. You will get a phone call for your next steps. Understood?” He said. “Yeah. Understood. Whatever, man” I placed the phone in my right pocket and pricked my finger on the steak knife. “Ouch!” “What?” Andy asked. “Nothin. So I gotta wait for a phone call from someone, about a disease that no one knows about, that has a name that only a few people know? Got it.” I laughed. “You a wild boy Andy.” “Alright Benji, time to get out of here. You need to prepare for graduation, study for your history exam, and get a band aid for that finger. I’ll be seeing you.” I pulled my hand out of my pocket, glanced at my finger, and saw a drop of blood beginning to pool. As I looked up, Andy was gone. “What the hell is going on.” I whispered.
Waiting for the Uber to come to take me back home gave me opportunity to reflect on the craziness of the day. I reached into my jacket pocket, being careful to feel for the tip of the steak knife. I pulled out the flip phone and opened it up. How do you turn this stupid thing on? I thought. My iPhone rang to alert me that my Uber was arriving. Just then, a burgundy Toyota Corolla pulled up. I checked my app. “Peter?” The Uber driver leaned over, “Yep. Benji?” I checked the license plate, and it matched the app. “Yeah. Thanks dude.” I hopped into the back seat of the car. “It’s been a long day dude. I’m just trying to go home.” “Hey boss, I understand. I’ve had fares all day. You’re my last one.” Peter was a middle-aged guy wearing a plaid shirt that made him look like a lumberjack. He looked ruddy and tired. I noticed a picture of a little girl on the dashboard.
“Cute kid.” I said.
“Yeah, that’s my little girl. Man, that girl has me wrapped around her little finger. She’s a trooper too. She’s only 7 and has already lived a lifetime of pain. Everything I do is for that girl.” The picture looked like a school photo. She had sandy blond hair and was wearing a red tee-shirt. Her smile looked force and unnatural. “Yeah, her mom, Lina, died unexpectedly a few years ago. Took us all by surprise. No cause of death. No autopsy. Her parents refused to have one.” He continued, “we weren’t married or nothin’ so I had no say in what happened to her. I just wish I could tell my little girl why her mom died.”
I watched as the Capitol Mall got further and further away from view and I started feeling sad for Peter and his daughter. I wondered if Lina had the disease. I didn’t say anything about it because Andy had made it clear to keep quiet.
“Man, I’m sorry. Imma pray for you and your daughter.” I began scrolling my social media accounts to take my mind off the heaviness of the day. We were almost at my house stopped at a red light. Just then, Peter turned around and said, “Andy said you were a cool kid. We need you. I think you’re going to make a huge impact. We gotta find a cure for this thing. Shit’s scary.”
I looked up and met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Kid, your life will never be same. Heavy is the head that holds the crown.” Peter had pulled up in front of my house. I opened the door and got out of the car. As I approached the stoop, he rolled down the window and said, “Oh yeah. Congratulations on the salutatorian thing. See ya!” I turned around and he drove off. I stood on the stoop stunned. What was going on? Who were these people and why did they choose me? How do they know everything about me? I looked down at my watch. 10:23pm. Shit…I forgot to call my dad.
When I walked in the house, I could smell the scent of my mother’s famous cedar plank salmon wafting through the air. I reached into the oven and got the plate that my mother prepared for me. Salmon, rice, and broccoli sat beautifully sectioned on the clear glass plate, covered in Saran Wrap, that my mother prepared for me. I grabbed a fork and took the steak knife from my jacket pocket and put it in the sink. I started up the stairs and heard my father’s voice. He was on the phone in the study. I peeked my head in. “Hey pop,” I whispered. My father looked up and gave me a wide smile. “Can you hold on for a minute?” He put his cell down on the his desk and stood up with his arms outstretched, ready to give me a hug. “Benjamin, I heard the news! You have made me and your mother so proud. You’re continuing in the line of great Banneker’s. Aww…hard-work pays off son.” I thought, so does a mysterious puppet master that enlists kids for secret government projects. “Thanks dad.” I gave him a pound with my free hand and motioned that I was going to my room to eat. He nodded, offered a salute, and returned to his phone call.
I walked to my room and Benedict met me at my door. “What’s up B? Heard you’re following my footsteps…again. Damn boy…you tryin’ to be me or what?”
“Bene, look dude, not tonight. I got a lot on my mind.”
“You know I’m playin" he said. “I'm proud of you for real. We gotta excel in everything we do. The world is waiting for Black men to fail. There’s no room for that.” He said.
“True that man. That’s why I gotta hit these books tonight to make sure I don’t tank this History final nest week.” I head nodded up to my big brother.
“I hear you. Handle your business. If you need anything, I got you Benji.”
“Cool. That’s wassup.” I said.
I opened my bedroom door and placed my plate on my desk. I noticed that I had 3 envelopes there that weren’t there when I left. I picked them up and read to outside:
Chase Bank…you are pre-approved for $5000 in credit. Act Now!
Val-Pak Valuable Coupons Enclosed
Tuskegee Office of Admissions – Personal and Confidential
Tuskegee Office of Admissions. Wait…there’s no way. I had just send my application in a few weeks before. I sat down at my desk and stared at the envelope. Tuskegee was my dream school. I had wanted to go there ever since we took a road trip to a family reunion to Alabama when was in 5th grade. There was something about the rolling hills on the campus and the statue of Booker T. Washington that drew me in. It felt like home then, and now, I have a letter from the Office of Admissions with my name on it. I was afraid to open it. What if it was a rejection?
I assessed the thickness of the letter. If felt thin. I had heard that if it’s an acceptance letter, then the envelope was thick. Envelopes with rejections were thin since it offered no additional information other than “so sorry we don’t want you.” I mustered up the nerve and tore the corner of the envelope. I slid my finger down the flap and exposed the top of the folded contents. I took a deep breath and unfolded the letter.
June 11, 2021
Dear Mr. Banneker,
It is with great regret that I inform you that…
I didn’t even finish reading it. Damn. Rejected. How? How did I get rejected? My grades were good enough and I had written a great essay. I even had perfect recommendations. I stared had at those 10 words. I couldn't bring myself to read anymore. How could this have happened? Andy? Shit. I bet Andy sabotaged my college entrance to my dream school for this bogus government thing. I instantly got angry. Why had he come into my life? I should have never gotten into that car. Now, I’m going to be stuck here in DC while all my friends go off to college, all while I’ll be trying to avoid some weird ass white man talking about government diseases. I yanked my jacket off and threw it on the floor. The flip phone rolled out of the pocket. I stood up ready to stomp it, when I notice a red flashing light coming from the tiny outer screen. I reached down and flipped the phone open.
Missed call 10:56pm
I pushed the green call button. A voice on the other end said, “Music is the one thing that binds us all. Play what’s in your heart. When you do, your world will be made new.”
“Hello? Who is this? Hello? Hello?” The phone went dead. This is a sick game. What does that mean? I wasn’t about to let some mysterious voice tell me what to do and I certainly wasn't going to try to figure out some cryptic riddle in the middle of the night. I definitely wasn't going to play piano at eleven o’clock at night just because so phantom voice said so. I was pissed. My future was fucked! I knew that my life in DC was going to be controlled by my parents or they would make calls to get me into Cheney, or worse, Hampton with Benedict. FUUUUUKKKKK! Why? I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling as though answers would come falling from the sky. They didn’t. Instead, I fell asleep mad, hungry, and trying to forget that the day had ever happened.
I woke up tired. The house was eerily quiet. It was a Saturday, and everyone had scattered to their own weekend activities leaving me home, alone. My untouched dinner from the night was sitting on my desk, dry and gross. The fragrance of my favorite meal gave way to the stench of day-old fish and broccoli. I sat on the side of my bed waiting for inspiration to do anything. The Tuskegee letter lay open reminding me of why I was so depressed. I grabbed it, balled it up, and tossed in in the garbage can under my desk.
Every time I felt confused or depressed, I would retreat to the music room. It was my favorite room in our house. The house was originally a boarding house for Black World War I Veterans. My parents found it when they were looking for a home in the Northwest neighborhood of DC. It was in disrepair, but they saw the potential of what the house could be. They had painstakingly repaired the rotted floors and peeling paneling. They added an additional bathroom and what used to be a medical diagnostic room was now the music room.
I walked across the original hardwood floors to the room that was my sanctuary. I opened the door to the music room and the piano beckoned me to play. Play what’s in your heart. When you do, your world will be made new. Fuck. I sat down on the bench and placed my fingers gently on the keys. Middle C. Middle C. Middle C. What’s in my heart? Nothing. It was the first time that I had nothing musical to say. I pushed Middle C again. I looked out the window and saw a single cicada fly across. The news had been talking about the cicada invasion that was going to occur in 2021. I had never experienced there fury, but the news had been warning the public about their eminent return for weeks. They would show up in droves and they would be everywhere. I had seen news reports showing communities overrun with them. Car accidents had occurred because swarms had blinded unsuspecting drivers.
I watched the one that was right outside of the window of the music room. I watched it fly nervously back and forth . The sound that it made was deafening. To be so small, cicada make to loudest sound. I tried to mimic it on the piano. Middle C. Middle C. No. I closed my eyes to concentrate on the sound. A-A-E. A-A-E. My fingers played those three notes over and over until I began to feel at ease. I opened my eyes and noticed that the cicada was gone. A-A-E. A-A-E. I heard what sounded like a piece of wood furniture scraping the wood floors. When I stopped playing, the scrapping stopped. I played again. A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E. I played it over and over again. I looked up from the keys and saw that the bookshelf in front of the piano was opening like a door. I played again while watching the shelf. A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E. The shelf opened and I could see a blinding, bright white light emitting from what was behind the shelf. What the the hell is that? A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E A-A-E. It opened wide enough for me to walk through. I gingerly got up from the bench and walked to the shelf. Slowly, I walked in. When I cleared the threshold, the shelf door closed. Panicked, I turned trying to push it back open. Using all of my might didn't budge the shelf an inch. Just as I was about to scream for help, I heard Andy's voice. “Welcome Benji. Are you ready to change the world?” I turned quickly to my right and saw Andy standing in front of a wall-to-wall board filled with hundreds of dates, lines, and notes.
1749, New York, Adams, Seeds, 1885.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of numbers and dates, notes and lines. I stepped forward to get a closer look. None of it made sense.
“Where am I?” I asked breathlessly.
“Your future" Andy said. "Your research to find a cure begins now.”
Copyright Shelbi Walker 2021
WGA Reg#: 2127759
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