Free Endangered by Jean Love Cush

spit you out.”
    â€œCalvin, what is the point of living if you don’t stand up for what you know is right? Everyone who is remembered in history has stood up for something—Muhammad Ali for refusing to fight in Vietnam; Gandhi for his nonviolent protest against British imperialism in India. Nelson Mandela. I could go on all day.”
    â€œI just don’t know if this is right. I get it that black boys are in trouble. I lived it. I still live it. But I would like to believe that a lot of the trouble, at least now, is self-inflicted.”
    â€œThis is not a whim. I didn’t just concoct this theory. I have real and solid arguments. I have the research to support every argument, every detail of my claim.” He swirled his finger over the stacks of files on the conference table. “We haven’t even skimmed the surface here. All I need to hear from you is that you are willing to take this ride with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
    Calvin steadily rubbed his brow, trying to find the right words.
    â€œI think I am going to have to pass on this. Unlike you, I don’t have the bulk of my career behind me. No offense, but this could screw up my career plans, and on top of that I’m just not convinced.”
    â€œOkay, do me a favor,” Roger said as he combed through a few of the bulky files. He pulled the one that had STATS written in bold red letters on it and shoved it into Calvin’s hands. “Just take this and read it. And this, too.” He reached for a copy of the complaint and put it on the top of the other file. “After you’ve read all this, then tell me what you think.”
    â€œI’ll take it,” Calvin said halfheartedly, “but I doubt it’s going to change my mind.”

Chapter Nine
    CALVIN HEADED TO HIS CHILDHOOD HOME IN THE KINGSESSING SECTION OF the city. He looked forward to a home-cooked meal and catching up with Grandma Pearl.
    He pulled onto Baltimore Avenue. He was intimately familiar with every street and corner of the neighborhood. He’d been in several of the homes, hanging out with childhood friends. He shopped at the corner stores, and had his favorite fried rice every weekend from the House of Hunan Chinese Restaurant.
    The area had changed. There were few homeowners left. The neighbors were mostly renters who crowded into single-family homes that had been turned into low-income apartments. Two doors down was a drug rehab for women that the city opened without consulting the community. Calvin had geared up for a fight with the city, and he was sure he would win, but Grandma Pearl insisted that he stop because “recovering drug addicts need a place to live too.”
    He just shook his head, frustrated, and asked her for the umpteenth time to move closer to him in the Philadelphia suburbs.
    â€œAnd what am I supposed to do there?” she said, looking up at him with her hand on her hip.
    To Calvin it was obvious. “Live in peace, surrounded by some beauty—you deserve that.”
    She gave him that look, the one that could cut through everything—to his very soul. “That’s you, not me. You’re the one on the hunt— always searching for something better. I have everything I need right here. I raised my family here and I’ll die here. And, if you want to see me, you’ll see me right here.”
    â€œI know, Grandma, I know.”
    â€œGood.”
    Calvin always rang the doorbell before he pulled out his keys. He didn’t want to startle Grandma Pearl. Usually, when he arrived during the day, she would make it just about to the living room by the time the front door was fully opened. Today was no different.
    â€œBoy, is that you?”
    â€œYes, it’s me,” he said, a sense of calm sweeping over him. He could smell the aromas of his childhood—baked chicken, possibly a bean casserole, and the usual freshly baked bread.
    â€œIf it’s you,