The Misfits by James Howe

Author:James Howe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

15

MONDAY NIGHT we’re back at Joe’s house, printing up names on his computer and drawing red circles around them and red slashes through them. Every time we put a slash through one of those names, it’s like we’re casting a vote for our own party.

It’s just the Gang of Five this time. Kelsey’s mom doesn’t like her being out on school nights, and DuShawn, well, DuShawn got kind of weird when Addie and I talked to him about the new party idea. Not that I blame him. What it went like was this:

Addie: DuShawn, guess what? We’ve come up with a whole new approach to the Freedom Party. You’re going to love it.

DuShawn: Cool.

Addie: It’s called the No-Name Party, and what we need is a list of all the names you’ve ever been called.

DuShawn: Names?

Addie: Yes, names. Put-downs. You know what I’m talking about.

DuShawn: Uh-huh. I get your drift. You’re thinkin’ because I’m black I’ve been called names.

Addie: Haven’t you?

DuShawn: No.

Me: Never?

DuShawn: No. I mean, I know there are bigots out there, okay. And maybe I’m just lucky, but I’ve never had to deal with it.

Addie: Well, but will you still run for president on our ticket?

DuShawn: Why do you want me to run, Addie?

Addie: I told you. You’re smart and ...

DuShawn: And black, you said so yourself.

Addie: Well, yes, I guess so, but that’s not...

DuShawn: That’s not what? You got no end to that sentence. And you got eyes that see no further than the color of my skin.

Me: Where are you going, DuShawn?

DuShawn: I’m going to think this over.

Addie: Well, but, you won’t let us down, will you?

DuShawn: Who’s lettin’ who down, Addie? There’s somethin’ for you to think over.

“Do you think DuShawn’s going to back out?” I ask Addie as I’m slashing a red line through KNOW-IT-ALL.

Addie shakes her head, exasperated. “I hope not,” she goes. “I tried calling him before coming over here, but his sister said he wasn’t home. I don’t know why he’s being so sensitive. He said himself that the color of his skin is just a fact. The way he said the color of my skin is—”

“Like peach ice cream,” Skeezie pitches in. “Or was it the inside of almonds? The dude is a poet. I’ll tell you something else, Addie: The dude likes you.”

“What?!” Addie makes a mess of the circle she’s drawing and crumples up LARDO).

“Print that one out again,” I tell her, “It’s one of my favorites.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” she informs Skeezie, getting that tight-lipped look of hers that makes me think of Ms. Wyman. “There is no way DuShawn Carter likes me. And I’m not saying that because I’m white and he’s, you know...”

“The color of night,” says the Skeeze.

“Shut up!” Addie goes. I am detecting her peach ice-cream cheeks turning the shade of raspberry sherbet. “I am saying he couldn’t like me because he’s always picking on me. Spitballs and whoopee cushions and last week he was poking me all through social studies.

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