Read Online Black Boy White School by Brian F. Walker - Free Book Online Page B

Greece. But so what? Sometimes he thought all their money made them soft, but that didn’t make Anthony dislike them. George, on the other hand, was scowling. Anthony said, “Are you pissed just because some people here have money?”
    â€œNo,” George snapped. “I’m pissed because we only got a spoonful of students of color, and every one of us is on financial aid. I’m pissed because it makes it look like every black person in the world is poor. And if they think we’re all poor, then they probably think we’re all stupid and eat watermelon, too.”
    â€œBut we are poor, right?”
    George glared at Paul and shook his head, rubbed a big hand down his face, and sighed. “That’s not the point,” he said evenly. “Let me put it another way. Where do you think financial aid comes from? And please don’t say from washing dishes. . . .”
    He waited, and the younger boys looked at one another. Then Paul said, “From nowhere. They just don’t charge us.”
    George shook his head. “Every time these white kids pay their tuition, they pay a little bit of yours and mine, too. And don’t think they don’t know it, either.”
    Hector cried out, “That’s fucked up, bro! I don’t want them paying for me, I can pay it myself.”
    â€œNo, you can’t,” Paul said. “So don’t front. Just accept that cash and use it to your advantage.” Hector thought for a second and nodded, then the two of them slapped hands.
    Anthony wasn’t swayed. “No such thing as a free lunch, though.” He looked up at George. “So what do they want from us?”
    â€œLeague championship,” Paul interrupted, and shot an imaginary jumper. “Maybe two or three.” Hector reached up and grabbed the invisible rebound while George glared joylessly at the two of them.
    â€œYou’re a smart dude, Ant,” George said, watching them play. “Twenty-five-twenty always expects something. Remember that.”
    Anthony nodded. “What’s twenty-five-twenty?”
    George grinned. “Think about the alphabet,” he said. “Put the twenty-fifth letter with the twentieth. What you got?”
    â€œY and T,” Anthony said, not seeing it at first. “Y. T. Why tea . . . ? Whitey?”
    George smiled. “I knew you were smart. Twenty-five-twenty is a bitch up here, son. And like I said, they didn’t bring you up here for free.”
    Anthony looked at the other two boys. Even without a ball, their game was competitive. “I don’t play basketball. You know that.”
    â€œDon’t matter, you will. What else you gonna do when winter comes, anyway? Join the ski team? Just remember what I said before, okay? Belton changes people.”
    â€œYeah, for the better, right?” George didn’t answer. Paul took another jump shot, and Hector swatted it away.
    â€œGet that weak mess outta here!”
    â€œBe real, son,” Paul said. “Everybody know y’all Ricans can’t jump.”
    Anthony laughed with them to hide his worry. He would have to play basketball, George was right about that. Belton freshmen were required to play at least two team sports, and since Anthony was already skipping the fall, he had to either ski or shoot hoops in the winter. The problem was that he was terrible. When the season started, he would be the only kid of color without a varsity uniform.
    He looked at George. “Can you teach me?”
    â€œSwear to God, Ant,” George said, smiling in disbelief. “You need to clean out your ears. What you think I’m doing right now?”
    Later that day in health class, the teacher showed a documentary about cigarettes, narrated by a woman who talked through a hole in her throat. Anthony watched from a seat on the floor, next to a girl who smoked and always smelled like it.
    â€œYou know what that