"This is the work God ordained for me, and one day soon, you’ll find yours."

How To Raise A Hacker; Chapter V - The Underground Railroad {Excerpt III}

Dedicated to Willow. Yep, I was 14 too. Love, Pops.

Dr. Monroe leapt from her chair and poked her head out the back door to her conference room, “Mr. Lew, I need to speak to you about Mr. Lormand.”

A portly Asian man entered the room and shot a smile towards my direction before they exchanged paperwork. As Dr. Monroe sorted through them, she announced that Mr. Lew was to reach out to the names on her list. As he exited, she returned to the water cooler to bring over another cup of water, her eyes fixated on the documents in her hand.

I have no idea what’s going on. What does she mean I need friends? Do I?

Before I could deeply reflect if her premise was wrong, four youths—two boys and two girls—entered the room. They all neatly donned the school’s blue and white uniforms, which made me feel out of place with my torn baggy blue jeans and orange puffer vest. I look like a broke Marty McFly from Back to the Future. One of them happened to be a beaming Derrick who looked overjoyed to see me again. Still not calling him D-Dawg no matter how many times he asks me.

“That was quick!” Dr. Monroe outstretched her arms in exuberant welcome.

“Good afternoon Dr. Monroe. We were just waiting outside when Mr. Lew brought us in.” replied the shorter girl. When we traded glances, her giggle accentuated the dimples in her round, mahogany cheeks.

Dr. Monroe embraced the girl and brought her forward to encourage interaction. I stood up from the chair and shook her hand, “Karl.” Goddess, I hate my name.

Her smile seemed to bask in my presence, and that made me feel like she wasn’t a complete stranger.

“I know. Oh, we know. I mean…a lot of people talk about you. I’m Gloria.” Raising her hand towards the other girl, “This is Kellie, and I think you know Derrick already.” Kellie, a foot taller than Gloria, had a lovely yet shy disposition, her skin shade contrasted Gloria’s and was similar to Dr. Monroe’s golden oak.

Derrick waved hello just as the other young man stepped forward, grabbing my hand in a tight, strong manner and with a baritone voice that made him seem years older than he was, “Nice to meet you. I’m Patrick.”

Serving to break the formal aire of the room, I mirrored Patrick’s deep-sounding speech, “Hello Patrick, it’s nice to meet you as well.” To my surprise, the quartet of students caught what I was doing and laughed at my silliness. I noticed Dr. Monroe’s satisfaction with our initial contact.

At that moment, it occurred to me that I never had a mixed group of positive teen friends before, of all genders, I feel like I’m in Beverly Hills 90210 or Boy Meets World but with Black people…in Harlem. Is this really happening?

Dr. Monroe continued, “Kellie, thank you for volunteering this weekend. Gloria, I look forward to hearing more about your newest project. And boys, I appreciate you two joining the choral program. I am looking forward to this year’s talent show. Now run along to class before the bell rings. Thank you kids for coming down to meet Karl. He will be in some of your classes starting tomorrow,” Dr. Monroe held open the front door that led into the hallway as they departed full of chatter and jubilant laughter. 

Just as the conference room door fastened behind her, I spotted a few members of the football team that I had fought with who appeared surprised to see me with Dr. Monroe as they passed by.

After their departure, I was once again in the thrall of the school principal. She reached over to place her right hand over my left shoulder. 

Apparently, Dr. Monroe noticed the boys in the hallway too, “It won’t be easy coming back to school, but if you’re ever to learn how best to fight your battles, inside and out, it’s right here and now.  You just have to show up. I mean, c’mon, I’m the one with all the paperwork here. You think it’s easy reassigning all your classes?” Dr. Monroe laughed as she went over to pour herself a cup of tea. It’s fruity hints were soothing.

What do I say to her? To all of this? I stood there, ever the awkward fourteen-year-old, dumbfounded with how, just the day before, I had struggled with an emptiness that felt unending, and now, maybe it’s okay to dream again?

“Thank you. I…uh thanks for all of this, Dr. Monroe. I promise I won’t ever forget this.” (And I haven’t)

“Thank me by not missing any more days. A job working with Patrick and Derrick is in the works as well. Also, I think you should see someone.”

“Who?” my left eyebrow raised like a cartoon character.

“Some therapy could help. I don’t know, it might help, it might not, but I think you’ve been through enough to not ignore it. I certainly can’t and I need to tell these kids’ parents something. My own teachers will want to know why I’m letting you back in. Daily check-ins will be required from now on. Even if I’m not here, just come to the office. Understood?

“Yes ma’am.”

“Those are good kids, and I think you’ll learn a lot from them and vice versa.”

I don’t know about that. What could they possibly learn from me? How to get expelled from school within the first month? I gave her a smirk to display my disbelief.

“Tomorrow is a brand-new day, Karl.”

Wow. She’s addressing me by my first name, again.

“Dr. Monroe, is it okay if I ask--why me?” Her efforts were an enigma to me.

“Don’t hurt yourself by trying to figure me out. My husband and kids have their own burden with that!” A boisterous laugh followed..

“It’s just…I feel like the minotaur at the center of a labyrinth,” I lowered my head to stare at the tiled floor.

“Why a labyrinth?” Dr. Monroe seemed intrigued.

“A labyrinth is not a maze. There’s only one way in and one way out, and that’s through you,” I looked up to face her.

“That’s where you are wrong, Karl. We’re all in this labyrinth together. That is what it means to be Black. The only way we get in and out is together, as a people. Your mind wants out. You want out. Besides, it helps that you’re handsome, too. I don’t think I could fight this hard for someone hideous.”

Losing control of my adolescent cheeks, I blushed for what felt like an eternity.

“Is that a blush? Ha! I made a Black man blush,” Dr. Monroe laughed while slapping her knee, “I think I’ve met my quota for the week.”

Dr. Monroe paused for a moment as if she were composing a psalm to live by, “At the end of the day, it’s about the work. This is the work God ordained for me, and one day soon, you’ll find yours. Get ready to fight with that big beautiful brain, Mr. Lormand. See you first thing tomorrow?”

“Yes, Dr. Monroe.” I sped out of her office as politely as I could, eager to exit the building, but slowed my escape when I reached a few feet from the school. As I surveyed the world around me, the sky above seemed different. I no longer assessed people passing according to my perceived threat levels or how they could or couldn’t contribute to my survival. I had stepped out of the labyrinth because I wasn’t alone. She was with me.

The school may be called Frederick Douglass Academy, but at fourteen years of age, a shining epiphany revealed Dr. Monroe to be a true-to-life Harriet Tubman with more than a touch of Pippi Longstocking.