Something like right, p.19
Something Like Right, page 19
“Aw, that’s messed up, Ma. I’m getting better.”
“Yeah? Well, you won’t be better enough by the time we finish this walk, so I’ll be careful. Come here.”
She brought me into her arms and hugged me tight. “I love you. So glad you’re home.” She spoke tenderly.
“I love you too, Ma. But I been home for weeks.”
“I know. But every day feels like a gift.”
I hugged her again and gave my pops a handshake. They made their way to the door and stepped into the sweet, sticky night.
“I’ll see y’all after a while. Be careful,” I said. They called back something that got muddled in the excitement of two people falling in love all over again.
I finished the last of the dishes and made my way over to the couch. I turned on a movie—something about monsters, or maybe aliens. Interesting enough so that when I looked up from my phone I would be entertained, but generic enough to feel like I wasn’t missing much while scrolling social media.
As soon as I opened up my app, I saw my aunt and uncle—first in helmets and harnesses, swinging among trees in the woods, then standing over rushing rapids. They posed in a cabin with robes and mugs and devilish grins, and finally, they stood at the summit of a mountain, wrapped up in each other, kissing. I liked the post and saw a notification of a photo tag pop up.
Somebody had added a photo of me to their page.
I tuned out the alien monster attack sounds coming from the television and put the bottle of sparkling cider down, navigating to the page that had tagged me.
The picture showed me and Feven. A selfie of us at the jazz concert all those months ago. I stood behind her smiling. She pursed her lips and threw a peace sign. The sunlight hit perfectly at dusk, the pink-and-orange sky bathing us in firelight. Excitement glinted in our eyes.
I had forgotten all about that photo. I scrolled down and read the caption.
something like right with Ma’eray
Ma’eray. “My honey” in Tigrinya. Aunt Seggie had taught me that phrase. I double-tapped the post and wiped a tear forming in my eye. I lingered on the photo for a moment, taking it in over and over. I felt a pang of sadness at the fact that those moments with Feven were done. Even if things can be similar, they can never be exactly how they were. But I don’t know. I guess sometimes they can be better. Something you never expected. Kinda like with my parents.
I went to keep scrolling but a call from an unknown number popped up on my screen before I had the chance. I pondered for a moment, cautious. Who would call this late on a Friday night?
“Hello?” I said hesitantly.
“Hello, is this Xavier Rogers?” a delicate voice asked.
“Yes, who am I speaking with?”
“Oh, right. This is Layla Vasquez—the after-school coordinator from the YMCA downtown.”
“Oh! Um, hello, Ms. Vasquez. Is everything okay?”
“Yes! I’m sorry I’m calling so late—it’s been a long day at the office. I wanted to get ahold of you before the weekend started. We’ve already had you waiting for some time.”
“It’s no problem.” A lump formed in my throat.
“I know your interview was a little … different. But I wanted to be the first to tell you that we would love to invite you to work as a lead tutor for the after-school program. Truth is, we revisited your application, and you were by far the most impressive candidate we had.
“Personally, I think that’s more important than anything else. Now, it’s a program we’re still building, so you’ll have to bear with us. But you’ll be one of the oldest tutors, and I think you’d be a great person to come up with some of the methods and techniques we can use to teach students. And to train other tutors.
“Hello? Hello?” Ms. Vasquez said, after too many seconds of silence from my end.
“Yes, I’m still here. I’m sorry. I’m just … in shock. I’m so thankful! Wait, so I got the job?”
“Haha, yes,” she laughed. “You’ve got the job, Mr. Rogers. If you come in at the beginning of next week, then we can get all your paperwork filled out and prepare to get you started. I’d like to start bringing kids in for our summer program within the next month.”
“Thanks so much! I’ll be there first thing Monday!”
“Sounds wonderful. Have a good night.”
Click.
I basked in my feelings for a moment. Once I had no more reservation for my joy, I jumped up onto the couch (Ma would kill me) and tossed my phone across the room. I got a job! I got the job! I bounced and flailed my arms and kicked until I heaved up and down. I fell back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, my head sparkling just like the cider. All of the good thoughts swirled in my mind, but after they settled, one stood out more than any of the rest of them. Feven and Kenny.
This is what we had worked so hard for, all of us. My own little thing, Feven had once called it. Broadlawn had sent the three of us all in different directions, but not with nothing. Kenny had hustling—and Alyssa, of course. Feven had school. Now I had something. I finally had something to be proud of. Something to call my own.
The alien monster movie was almost over. The heroes stood on a hilltop overlooking the devastation from battle, smiling and hugging one another. Scarred and bruised, but victorious. Of course, there’d be more aliens or bigger monsters in the sequel. Some of these heroes might even get swapped for new actors. But everything would be alright in the end.
That’s one cool thing about movies—as much as it’s hard to remember in everyday life, they remind us—good things do happen, and usually, everything does end up okay. We make do.
As the credits started rolling, my phone buzzed. I retrieved it and opened up my messages—a text from Ma. A photo! Pops carried her piggyback style. She leaned over him, glassy eyed and gleeful. He held her close. Another text followed.
MA: Be home soon. Love you so much.
I tapped a reaction to the photo and leaned back against the couch, chucking my phone across the room again. To think, I had started the school year certain that no good would ever come to me. That I had nothing unique to offer the world. But like Aunt Seggie had once written on a note she slipped to me as I daydreamed about Feven, Melk’a gereb qoxli, melk’a seb aqli. “The beauty of a tree is its leaves, and the beauty of a person is patience.”
Yeah. Something would work, finally. Something would be good. I knew it. I could feel it. But most of all, for the first time in my life, and hopefully not the last, I believed it.
In my mind. In my heart. In my spirit.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my amazing editor, Trisha de Guzman. From the very start, you saw this story not only for what it was, but for what I dreamed it could be. You’re the perfect editor for this book, and I’m so happy and forever grateful that you picked me, Zay, and Feven.
Thank you to Leah Pierre of Ladderbird Lit for seeing me, for hearing me. Zay and Feven wouldn’t have made it to the world without your keen eye and enthusiastic support. I appreciate you so much.
Thank you to all the FSG and Macmillan teams that came together to bring this art to the world. Even those of whom I’m not aware.
Mad love to Brittany Williams on the cover art. You cold with it! Thank you to Aurora Parlagreco for being an ace on design.
Lane Clarke. You saw this book before anybody else did. You helped me make it better. You helped me make it viable. For nothing in exchange—out of the goodness of your heart. You didn’t even know me. I owe you a million times over.
Taylor Byas. You’re a brilliant reader and your last look pushed this over the hump. Thank you for being my friend.
Lina J. Feven is your baby girl just as much as she is mine. Couldn’t have written this without you.
Charli, we made it. I’m forever about you. Mouse, thank you for being my light. For never leaving my side. Toni, for the money, for the love … for so many things I’ve never found a good way to thank you for. For opening up your arms when I was ready to come home.
Cali Mom, thank you for loving me. Christine, thank you for going through it all with me, and believing in me from the start. Raji, thank you for sharing in my joy. Leah Werther, for everything, continually. Danielle and Amanda, for setting the wheel in motion. TEAM, PiDD, Paul, Dolla, Ryan, Candace, RMF Tiff, and the whole gang—I appreciate y’all more than you know. My friends are the best thing in my life.
Thanks also to:
Lester Laminack for inspiring me to write this book. You probably don’t even remember. But when you speak, people listen. Including me.
Tin House: Lance and India, the whole YA Fiction Gen 1 Cohort, and especially Becky Robison. Thanks for making me a “real writer.” Thanks to Nina LaCour for tweeting about the workshop. And for writing such bomb-ass books. Morgan Parker for all the jokes. Lilliam Rivera for being my OG.
Meredith Russo for being my first author friend. Julie Tieu for helping me get over the hump with my pitches and queries. To Antwan Eady for the encouragement. And to Jas Ang for being the best part of my day, for so many days.
Lamar Giles—for being my mentor, answering my endless questions, always keeping it real with me, and connecting me to this world in a major way.
For all the teachers and students across the U.S. I’ve worked with—I’m doing this for y’all. You give me purpose. For all the teachers and students at a place like Broadlawn—keep your head up. Things get better. And the best is yet to come.
ALSO BY H. D. HUNTER
Battle for the Park (Futureland #1)
The Nightmare Hour (Futureland #2)
Torment: A Novella
About the Author
Hugh “H. D. Hunter” is a storyteller, teaching artist, and community organizer from Atlanta, Georgia. He’s the author of two self-published books and the Futureland trilogy, as well as the winner of several indie book awards for multicultural fiction. Hugh is committed to stories about Black kids and their many expansive worlds. Check out his work at thesoutherndistrict.com. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Letter from the Editor
Unit One: The Downfall of Me (Xavier Rogers)
Lesson 1.1. Violence Is Not the Answer. But It Is an Answer.
Lesson 1.2. Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun
Lesson 1.3. Don’t Answer the Door for Strangers
Lesson 1.4. Broadlawn, USA
Lesson 1.5. Broadlawn Alternative School
Lesson 1.6. Orientation
Unit Two: Falling for Feven
Lesson 2.1. How to Spot a Robbery
Lesson 2.2. Never Call It a Date
Lesson 2.3. Donuts Make Everything Better
Lesson 2.4. If You Love Her, Buy Her Flowers
Lesson 2.5. Everybody Likes Compliments
Unit Three: The Grand Plan
Lesson 3.1. You Can’t Stack “Draw Fours” on Top of Each Other
Lesson 3.2. Mischief Has Its Merits
Lesson 3.3. Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Lesson 3.4. Patience Is a Virtue
Lesson 3.5. Student Clubs Look Great on College Applications
Lesson 3.6. Yohannes and Rahwa
Lesson 3.7. Live in the Moment
Unit Four: What Goes Up …
Lesson 4.1. When It Rains, It Pours
Lesson 4.2. Ice Cream Melts, Eventually
Lesson 4.3. Balance Is Key
Lesson 4.4. A Precious Gift
Lesson 4.5. Girls Like Nice Things
Unit Five: Eyes on the Shore
Lesson 5.1. Home Is Where the Heart Is
Lesson 5.2. History Repeats Itself
Lesson 5.3. Pheme
Lesson 5.4. Hope Is a Renewable Resource
Lesson 5.5. Something like Right
Acknowledgments
Also by H. D. Hunter
About the Author
Copyright
Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271
fiercereads.com
Copyright © 2024 by H. D. Hunter
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hunter, H. D., author.
Title: Something like right / H.D. Hunter.
Description: First edition. | New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 2024. | Summary: Black seventeen-year-old Zay falls in love for the first time, all while contending with being sent away to an alternative school after his previously incarcerated father comes home.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023013163 | ISBN 9780374314408 (hardcover)
Subjects: CYAC: Family problems—Fiction. | Love—Fiction. | Alternative schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | African Americans—Fiction. | LCGFT: Novels.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.H8638 So 2024 | DDC [Fic]—dc23. LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023013163
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First hardcover edition 2024
eBook edition 2024
eISBN 9780374389970
H. D. Hunter, Something Like Right
