Sarah Jamila Stevenson - The Latte Rebellion

contents

Woodbury, Minnesota

The Latte Rebellion 2011 by Sarah Jamila Stevenson.

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First e-book edition 2010

E-book ISBN: 9780738729879

Cover design by Lisa Novak

Cover images: napkin iStockphoto.com/Maureen Perez
coffee cup Jonathan Kantor/Digital Vision/PunchStock

Interior illustrations on pages 117, 154, and 199 by Sarah Jamila Stevenson

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The jeering male voice came from somewhere behind me, waking me up from a heatstroke-induced doze.

Hey, check it outAshas a towel-head.

Im a WHAT? My neck got even warmer, and not just because it was sweltering at Ashmont Community Park.

Whoever it was, was he kidding me? Nobody used that phrase anymore unless they were hopelessly ignorant about headwear, or still carrying around a post-9/11 grudge. I knew I really should be offended.

Mostly, though, I couldnt believe what I was hearing. Even if I did have a towel on my head.

From the gasps and nervous whispers around me, I wasnt the only one in shock. I lifted a corner of terrycloth off my sweaty faceI was tanning my legsjust in time to see a furious Carey dump her cup of iced coffee all over Roger Yees smirking face. Light-brown latte dripped in rivulets from his now lank and soaking black hair, down his pretentious A&F T-shirt, and onto his swim trunks. The smirk dripped away with it.

One of Rogers lackeys from the Asian American Club, looking up from a nearby umbrella table, saw Rogers sorry, bedraggled self and snorted cola out of his nose, starting a ripple of laughter that drifted around the pool area and then died as people noticed the confrontation.

Roger had probably just been trying to make a stupid joke, but I didnt like his tone. It rubbed me the wrong way. And, knowing him, hed probably said something obscene to Carey while I was snoozing away obliviously.

Now, he stood stock-still and dripping as Carey hissed, Dont you ever use that word, buttmunch. I dont call you Fu Manchu.

Well, youre half-Chinese, he retorted. Anyway, I wasnt talking to you, Wong . I was talking to Miss Barely Asian over there. He used a corner of his shirt to wipe the coffee off his face and neck.

I sat up with a martyred sigh. I didnt want to be part of this conversation, but I was involved whether I liked it or not. Look, Yee , last I checked, South Asia was definitely part of Asia. Its in the name . South Asia . I pointed to my head. And its not a towel . Learn some useful vocabulary words, like turban. Which nobody in my family wears, incidentally.

Whatever, Roger said, waving a hand at me dismissively. Youre only a quarter or a half or something, anyway. And you had a towel on your head, okay?

What does it matter? Its still racist. And its not like Asha insulted you, Carey pointed out. Whats your problem?

They locked eyes for a moment, glaring at each other. Roger Yee had been our nemesis ever since hed perpetrated the Backpack-Snatching-and-Dumping Incident of 06, which we followed rather unwisely with the Toilet Paper Revenge Caper of 07. He wasnt my favorite person, but racial epithets were stooping a bit low even for him. I mean, this was Northern California. We were supposed to be past all that.

A handful of other seniors started to drift over from around the patio like melodrama-sniffing dogs, eager for a scene. And Roger was no stranger to a good argument. Hed verbally clobbered three hapless rivals to become our student-body secretary, which made him responsible for this stupid Inter-Club Council pool party in the first place. But if it came down to it, my money was on Carey. She had that look in her eye, the ice-cold, do-not-screw-around-with-me look that she only got when she was really angryor about to nail someone on the opposing soccer team with her cleats.

After a minute, Roger dropped his gaze and stalked off. As he brushed past Careys lounge chair, I heard him mutter, It was just a joke, you snooty bitch.

I bolted to my feet, the controversy-inspiring towel falling to the ground, innocuous and stripey. You do not talk to my friends like that, I shouted after him, but it was too late. He was gone, slamming the iron gate to the pool area with a loud clang as he left, leaving Carey glowering and redder than Id ever seen her, and me torn between wanting to scream and wishing Id decided to stay home.

And thats how it all started.

The Inter-Club Council annual pool party.

Unfortunately, thats not how it ended. Not by a long shot.

The following April:
Ashmont Unified School District Board Room

Ladies and gentlemen. The disciplinary hearing officer cleared his throat wetly, the sound reverberating into the microphone and around the room. I didnt want to look at him, with his graying comb-over and his accusatory unibrow, so I looked down at my lap, shifting in the hard wooden chair. The murmur of voices temporarily rose, then fell. I heard a few clicks of the camera shutter from the newspaper reporter in the back row.

Id been the one to request an open hearingI had a right to, according to California Education Codebut I still couldnt believe how many people showed up. The room, which normally seated about fifty people, was full. Standing room only.

Ladies and gentlemen, the presiding officer continued stiffly, representatives of the Ashmont Board of Education, andI could feel him glaring in my directionmembers of the public , this open disciplinary hearing to consider the expulsion of Ms. Asha Jamison from University Park High School is now in session.