Well, Stephen, I said. Since were confusing different centuries, why dont I bring up a little book called The Bell Curve . It shows that whites and Asians are superior to black people.
Racist! Racist Jewish institutional testing. It doesnt count, screeched Stephen. He was gesticulating now. His arms swung out at his sides like coiled wet towels and his belly shook some more.
Boys, said Mr. Hurston. You can state your opinions as freely as you like, but you must keep the discussion to the 1860s.
Stacey wasnt smiling anymore. She was bored. She went back to picking the scab on the back of her hand.
I should have stopped arguing with Stephen but I didnt. I know I got everything I deserved afterward, but I couldnt stop because I wanted Stacey to laugh. I looked over at Lewis, but he still had that dumb stare. Lewis was a bad student. He hung out with the tough black crowd. There werent many black students at the school, but a group of them hung out together and acted like they were a gang. Lewis was the runt of the group. It didnt look like anything I was saying even registered with him so I really got into it.
Niggers, I said, and Niggers and Niggers. I kept saying it as part of my act. And Stephen would scream and bring his arms together in a strangling gesture. Hed grit his teeth and hiss and strangle the air to emphasize his points. I couldnt believe that Mr. Hurston allowed it to go on. It was a real show. Everyone was laughing except Stacey and Lewis.
And then it was over. Mr. Hurston ended the debate a minute before the bell rang. He told Stephen to sit down, but he wouldnt. Then he told the class that it was a great exercise and that it was okay and brave of me to act like I had, using the N word and all, because it gave everyone a sense of what people were like back then.
Some foolish people have tried to get the N word removed from Huckleberry Finn because they find it offensive. Good-intentioned idiots, said Mr. Hurston. But if they were ever successful, we would lose a sense of what things were like before us. And if we dont know our history . . .
. . . were doomed to repeat it, the class mumbled as the bell rang. Everyone stuffed notebooks into bags. From across the room I saw Stephen leave with his head down. Mr. Hurston called after him but he was out the door.
I went back to my regular seat to get my stuff. Staceys desk was a seat away from mine. She was already packed up when I got there.
Pretty funny, huh? I said.
What? she asked.
Stephen, getting all mad like that.
I thought it was kind of scary, she said. I didnt have anything else to say so she walked out.
The rest of the day was uneventful. I ate lunch, went to the rest of my classes, and then walked home after school. I passed the field and saw Jerry Holtz and the soccer team warming up for the big game against Gunn.
That night I called Stacey. I got her number when I volunteered us for a joint report on the Salem witch trials at the beginning of the year. She never helped me with the report, but I had asked her if I could keep her phone number, just to see how she was doing sometimes. I had never used it.
I was nervous as I called. I had prepared some funny things to say when she answered, but she didnt answer and I didnt leave a message. I called her a few more times that night while I watched Beavis and Butt-Head and then The X-Files. I got her machine each time. Her voice was hoarse, and the way she said Stacey was so raspy and whispered it made me want to squeeze my penis until it hurt. Later, when I called again, I realized that it was a pager, so I typed in my home number. In the middle of playing DOOM on my computer, I heard the phone ring. It was about eleven thirty. There was loud music wherever she was.
Hello? . . . Hello? she said, close to the phone. Hearing her voice outside of class made me tingle at the back of my neck.
Hey, its Jeremy, I said.
Oh, hey, she said.
Where are you? I asked.
Hugh? she said. There were other voices near her.
What are you doing? I said.
She was having a hard time hearing me.
Who is this?
Its Jeremy. Jeremy Thompson?
Oh, hi. Whats up, Jeremy?
I dont know . . . I just thought we might hang out sometime.
Oh. What do you mean?
I dont know, I just thought we could maybe do something sometime.
Okay . . . sure.
Okay, I said. Then
there wasnt much else to say. I forgot all my jokes.
Then she said, Okay, Im going to go.
Okay, Ill call you sometime, I said.
Okay, bye. She hung up, but not before I heard someone ask, Who was that? I bit my lip really hard until it almost bled. Her voice was echoing in the cold air. I was left with my computer screen and the empty room and the blackness outside in the backyard, and everything felt empty. I couldnt go back to my video game with her voice still in my head, and those other voices too. I couldnt play the game anymore without feeling like I was wasting my life. I watched some more television in the living room until my father came home at twelve thirty and told me to go to bed.