Chapter 7

"What up, young blood?" came a voice halfway between that of a Tereak’s and an adult.

Tereak turned to see a slightly larger boy smiling a step or two behind him as the classes answered the first bell to home room.

"Are you talking to me?" answered Tereak, tentatively.

"You see any other brothers around?" answered the cocky, sauntering black adolescent as he slightly quickened his pace to draw aside Tereak.

"Hi!" was all Tereak could muster, having determined he must be the one being addressed by the older-appearing boy.

"You’re a new kid, right?"

"Yes, this is my second day" replied Tereak.

"It’s all our second day but this is your first year here at the school, am I right?" the young boy’s voice crackled with increasing confidence and a definite urban accent.

"I guess you’re right. Yes, this is my first year at Pamatau."

"I figured. You look like a scared black among all these honkies." the boy giggled as the words came out.

"Honkies?" asked Tereak.

"Dude, where you from anyway? ‘Honkies’ as in white folks. Duh."

"Sorry. I have been in Malaysia until this year. There are a lot of white people here, but I am not scared" Tereak spoke with a accentuated confidence.

"Yeah, right. Dude, you don’t need to be afraid of these whities. Believe me, they are more afraid of you than you are of them. By the way, my name if Roy, Roy Freeman."

"My name is Terak Bin Laden."

"What kind of name is that, dude?" asked the strange but somehow inviting boy.

"It’s from Africa. My dad was from Africa."

"African, eh? That’s cool. A real brother from the homeland." The boy seemed impressed briefly but then asked the question that Tereak dreaded: " You sure are light to be 100 per cent African. What’s the deal?"

"My mother is white." Tereak muttered, almost embarrassed at the confession for the first time. "I was born in Hawaii, though" as if it might make some difference in the boy’s assessment of him.

"That’s cool, brother. You have the best of both worlds". Roy was in full-blown laughter by now. You’re in my home room, I think, so I will have your back. I can show you the ropes, Te-reek".

Noticing the mispronunciation of his name, Tereak thought fast and blurted out "You can call me Terry". Americanizing his name would make meeting other people easier to meet and cut back the ensuing explanations, he thought. He was pleased with his quick thinking.

"Terry it is, my brother. Welcome to the plantation!"

As they walked up the stairs to the school, the newly Christened "Terry" wondered what Roy had meant by "plantation". But there wasn’t any time to explore the term as the all the younger students’ home room were on the first floor and he and Roy were at theirs.

"Let’s sit together in the back, Terry. That way we can watch the whities and make sure they don’t sneak up behind us" Roy snickered. "Is that cool with you?"

Terry just reflexly answered back "Cool" and followed Roy to the back of the neatly lined desks.

As the class was summoned by the P.A. system to "Stand and Repeat the Pledge of Allegiance", Terry looked at Roy. He only smirked and did as he was told by the unseen but authoritarian voice over their heads.

Terry parroted the words of the Pledge but the entire time was thinking to himself how sly he was to speak of "allegiance to the United States of America" and "God" when both were anathema to who he really was. His only allegiance was to Allah and, someday, all these infidels would discover the truth. But this was not the time.

As the housekeeping chores that were home room (roll call, more paperwork) were begun, he corrected his teacher, Mrs. Hasty, when you stumbled to pronounce his name. "Just call me Terry, Mrs. Hasty".

"Welcome to Pamatau, Terry. We are so pleased to have you" she chirped.

As she moved on down the roll, Roy leaned over and whispered "Yeah, right. ‘Pleased to have you’ my ass!" Terry unexpectedly found himself smiling back at his roughhewn new best friend and slid down into his seat with a new confidence. He had made his first friend.

After home room, Terry didn’t see Roy until lunch. He spotted him at a table outside the cafeteria with a plumb black girl and two boys that appeared to be Hawaiian. The local Hawaiian’s representation at the elite Pamatau was about as rare as that of blacks so, Terry thought, the little clique made sense. Minorities, all.

Roy saw Terry as he ambled over to the little group and shouted, "What up, brother?" loud enough for all the nearby students - ninety per cent Caucasian - to hear. Most just shook their heads without taking further notice. Roy, ever the militant, looked around defiantly to measure the reaction. He smiled as Terry arrived at the table.

"See, young black? I told you these honkies were more afraid of us than you are of them. Don’t nobody mess with us." The young black girl giggled shyly and the Hawaiian’s just laughed. One said, "yeah, you’re a bad dude, Roy." He slapped palms with his fellow islander. They, obviously, weren’t the least bit afraid of blacks or anyone else.

"Guys, this is my new token brother, Terry. Terry, this is Mary. These two heathens, motioning to the locals, are Mick and Malachi. They are cool."

"All Hawaiians are naturally cool, Terry" Mick volunteered. "Something to do with living on an island and being surrounded by surf and babes." Another sliding of the palms was exchanged between the two and, this time, the boys included Roy.

"Hi, guys. Hi Mary." offered Terry.

Malachi asked straightaway, "Roy says you are from Africa, Terry. But, dud, you don’t look like no African."

There it was again. "I am not African; my father was. I was born right here in Honolulu."

"Really?" Mick pondered. You don’t look Hawaiian either!" They all laughed and Terry had to force a smile not to appear as angry as he was inside.

"Well, Roy said it best: I have the best of both worlds. I am half-black and half-white."

"Naw, dude, the best is 100 per cent Hawaiian. We are cooler than the blacks and meaner than the haoles" Mick countered.

"Right on!" came Malachi’s response.

"What’s a haole?" Terry asked.

"What you think, bra? Whites or the assholes, whichever you please." Malachi answered with a scornful, dismissive expression. "They think they bad ‘cause they run this joint but they are all scared little mice. We take them some places on this island, they don’t come back, right bra?" he glanced at Mick.

"Fo’ real, bra.."

Terry had sat down by now during all the chest thumping and testosterone surges. He could see that he would have allies in this school and started to feel even less alone and an outside. The Hawaiians skipped right over his skin color and made him feel part of the group. They accepted him because he was not perceived as a dominant interloper like the whites had always been viewed by the locals. He was beginning to feel at home.

Lunch passed quickly with pleasant, often amusing banter between Mick, Malachi and Roy. Mary was mostly quiet and appeared quite shy but they all included her in the give and take and she held own. So did Terry who struggled to keep up with the fast urban black talk from Roy and the occasional uniquely Hawaiian pigeon English of Mick and Malachi. But he enjoyed the break from the boring class room lectures.

When the bell rang, they all split to their respective buildings and their final two classes. Roy walked part of the way with Terry and invited him to meet him back at the table after classes. They would hang at the basketball courts before going home from school. Terry agreed though he didn’t know anything about basketball except the ball was bigger than a soccer ball and you threw it in a basket or some such. But he was game for anything Roy could put before him and said yes.

Once on the basketball court, Terry noticed there was one goal occupied by a number of black students already at play. Across the court, the white kids played their own game. He mostly watched but quickly saw two things: basketball could be fun and Roy would be a good one to learn it from. He was quick and seemed to dominant even the taller black players. While watching the play, he clearly saw the difference between the black players at one end of the court and the whites at the other end. The blacks played with an aggressive, one-on-one style like Masai warriors challenging each other on ever possession. The whites would dribble and pass, slow down the game and shoot long jump shots. These were two different cultures even on the sport’s fields. Terry decided he preferred the game the way it was played by the blacks and made up his mind to get into the action at the first opportunity. If nothing else, he could release the anger and hostility he harbored in a controlled way, just as his old grandfather had instructed him.

After the game was over, Roy said "So, what you think, little brother?"

"You’re really a good player, Roy!" he enthused.

"Streets of L.A., homie. Toughest basketball in the world."

"I want to learn this game, Roy. Will you teach me?" Terry almost begged.

"Sure, young blood. Meet me here tomorrow about 7:30 and we will have a fgew minutes before school to get some basics. And, tomorrow afternoon, you can start banging.."

"Cool" Terry cooed. "Now I gotta get home."

"I’ll walk with you for a while. You never know when there might be some white devil behind a tree ready to jump you."

Roy laughed at Terry’s face which suddenly looked suspiciously at several nearby trees. "Dude. I am just clowning. You’re safe with me." Several blocks later, they parted company, marking the departure with a high-five and a "Later, dude" from Roy.

He was greeted at the door by Chester who asked where he had been.

Putting on his most boyish, endearing face, Terry said "Grandpa, it was the best day! I met some new friends and I am going to learn how to play basketball from Roy."

The enthusiasm and happiness defused Chester’s anger at his tardiness. He patted Terry on the head and simply said "Go wash up. Grams had been holding dinner and she ain’t happy." He winked and Terry sped to the bathroom. Supper was pleasant enough and the two adults were pleased to hear of Terry’s adventures and new friends. Grams agreed to wake Terry early for the basketball practice. Exhausted - but in a good way - Terry asked if he could just shower and go to bed. No one disagreed.

Terry closed the door to his room after his bath, read his Qu’ran and then put it back in its place. He turned out the lights, knelled at the side of his bed and thanked Allah for his protection and new friends. He snuggled under the sheet and fell into a deep sleep. It had, truly, been a good day in his new world.