Split the Sky Excerpt
In Split the Sky, Marie Arnold tells the story of fifteen-year-old Lala Russel, a gifted cellist with the ability to see the future. Lala has social justice fatigue and can’t help but think she is doing a bad job at being a Black girl. When she has a vision of a Black teenage boy shot in the chest by a white homeowner, Lala is faced with the existential question—can she allow herself to sacrifice one life to, in turn, save many? And if so, whose life will she choose?
Chapter 6 – Excerpt
Rue and I exchange a nervous glance and hold each other’s hand.
My cell dings. It’s 3:24.
Nothing happens.
We both roll our eyes at how needlessly dramatic we were being.
Suddenly, my body goes stiff. My head jerks up toward the ceiling. A white film coats my eyes. I’m shaking and disoriented, like a kitten caught in the eye of a storm.
A flash of gold spiraling.
A person bathed
in moonlight
and shadow.
Wristwatch
Glows.
Green.
Risk watch.
Lost.
Knocking.
Tap
Tap
Tap
On white oak door.
Owner appears
Loads fear
Into cannon.
Fire.
Life
Bleeds
Red stream.
Black
Body
Lies
Still.
I lose all sense of time and don’t come back into myself until I feel the sensation of being shaken. Rue has one hand on each of my arms.
“La, come back! La!”
I’m gasping for air the first few seconds after I return to my senses. Rue asks if I’m okay. I tell her what I saw: A Black boy, about our age, knocking on a white door. He’s wearing an Apple Watch. The date is seven days from now. At 7:07 p.m. The homeowner is an elderly white man. He opens the door and shoots the boy.
“Dead?” she shouts. A few students walking down the hall holding oboes turn and look at us. “What? Keep walking, oboes!” Rue orders them.
They shake their heads at her and turn the corner.
“Lala, are you sure the boy was dead? Like, dead dead?” she asks, her voice cracking.
“Yes!” I shout.
“Maybe he’s just injured,” she suggests.
“Rue, I felt the life drain from him. His body was still and hollow. Like there was nothing there anymore.”
“Okay, who’s the kid? Do you know him? We have to stop him from knocking on the door,” she says, panicking.
There are about a hundred questions running through my mind. But I force myself to stop and take a breath. And Rue does the same thing.
“Let’s start over from the top, La. You saw this boy from behind, so you don’t know what his face looks like?”
“No. I could only see the back of his head clearly, but the farther down I looked, the more shadow there was. The only other thing I could make out aside from time and date on his watch was his red sneakers.”
“That doesn’t really tell us much,” she says, deflated.
And then it hits me like lightning. “There was a bright silver logo on the back of his jacket. I know that logo; it’s the new one from Black Alliance!”
“Good, so we know it’s someone from the club. But there’re three Black guys in Black Alliance— which one?” Rue asks.
“I guess whichever one of them has an Apple Watch?” I reply.
“La, you have an Apple Watch; so do I and basically most of the school.”
She’s right. Apple Watches are everywhere around here. Ruby starts to count on her fingers. “I don’t know. There’s Alex, who we know you have a thing for—”
“Rue!”
“I know, I know. That’s not the point. Sorry. There’s Ford— the guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to all girls. And Wes, the nerd who’s been bringing a briefcase to school since, like, the first grade.”
“The boy in the vision has dark brown skin. But that doesn’t help because all three of the guys have similar skin tones and builds. Do you know them well enough to guess which of them I might have seen?”
“Sorry, I don’t. We hang out as a group, but we’re not tight like that, one on one,” Ruby says.
“I need to talk to my grandma. She’ll know what I should do.”
I call Grandma Sadie on video. “There’s my grandbaby! Oh, and my Rue- Rue,” she says, beaming with pride. But she takes one look at our faces and her light tone changes. “What’s wrong?”
“Grandma, you have to help me!”
“Okay, calm down. Tell me what happened. Was it a new Flash? Was it stronger than the others, like I predicted?”
“Grandma, it was awful,” I reply as the weight of what I saw starts to set in. Rue holds my hand as I recount everything in my vision and how much time I think we have until it happens. Grandma listens closely.
“La, are you sure he’s dead in the Flash?” Grandma asks.
I nod. “Someone in this school is going to die. You have to help me stop it, Grandma.”
“I will. But first, what color was the Flash? Was it gray? If so, we should be able to stop this from happening. If it’s red, then we won’t be able to change anything without risking something happening to you or a loved one.”
I’m relieved that finally there’s some good news. “The Flash wasn’t red, so it can be changed.”
“So your Flash was gray?” Grandma asks.
“Well, actually . . . It was odd. The Flash wasn’t red or gray. I was so freaked out by what I saw when the boy hit the ground, I forgot that part.”
“What color was it?”
I think back. “Gold. Yeah, the Flash was gold.”
“Are you sure? Lala, this is very important,” Grandma says.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Grandma begins to tear up and looks up to the heavens. And then she nods to herself, clearly overwhelmed. “It’s gold. The Flash is gold, baby,” she says, placing her palms together as if in prayer.
“Grandma, what does that mean? And why didn’t you tell me that gold Flashes were a thing?” I ask.
Grandma wipes her eyes and steadies herself. “I never told you about them because they’re so rare.”
“Grandma, what does it mean?” I push.
“There’s only been two other times a gold Flash has appeared. The first was in 1810. Santana’s daughter Lena was fifteen. She saw a gold Flash of a slave boy secretly being taught to read by his owner. She wanted to warn the boy to stop, because she feared learning to read would get him killed.”
I want to ask questions, but I restrain myself. I need to hear this, so I nod and listen. But I can’t help the churning in my stomach. Some part of me knows it’s headed for something I won’t like.
Grandma goes on, “But her mother had cautioned her that not all Flashes were meant to be changed. So she never approached the boy. After having learned to read, the boy was able to expand his mind. Twenty- one years later, in 1831, that boy grew up to be the leader of the first and only successful slave revolt in US history.”
“Wait, Santana’s daughter had a gold Flash about the boy who would grow up to become Nat Turner?” I ask.
“Yes. But at the time, all she knew was that there was a little boy whose path should not be altered. And it wasn’t just that he staged a rebellion. The slave owners loomed over the plantation with the audacity of gods. Turner pierced their armor and allowed the slaves to see . . . gods can bleed,” Grandma says.
“And the second gold Flash, who saw it? And what happened?” I ask.
“The second gold Flash would not come until over one hundred years later. November first, 1955. Your great-aunt Eloise was fifteen. She saw a Flash surrounded by gold. And in it stood a wary black woman waiting for public transportation to get home. One month later, that woman was arrested for refusing to move to the back of the bus.”
Rue shouts, “Rosa Parks!”
“Exactly. Lala, a red Flash can alter the destiny of your personal life and the lives of people you know and love. But a gold Flash shows an event that will alter the fate of our people. There’s a change coming! There’ll be new laws, new protections, and safety measures for our people. This is the movement that will put a stop to casual killing of unarmed Black children. The new movement is here, baby, it’s here!” Grandma says with tears in her eyes.
“But what about the boy in my Flash? How do I save him?” I ask.
Her face falls. Grief and sadness crease the corners of her mouth; tears fall freely from her troubled face. Her prolonged silence is unbearable. I need her to tell me that what I’m thinking isn’t really what I think I’m hearing.
“Grandma, c’mon! Please! How do I save this boy?”
“You don’t,” she says gravely.
“What? No! No.” I rage, turning away from the screen.
“Lala—”
“I will not let this kid die!”
“Baby, listen to me very carefully. When Rosa Parks refused to sit in the back of the bus, millions of Black lives were changed. If you alert this boy to his fate, you’ll stop the next nationwide Civil Rights Movement.”
“You’re saying I should let this kid die?”
“I’m saying that on the morning she’s supposed to make history, you can’t tell Rosa Parks to hail a cab.”
“Please . . . this is a boy’s life.” I can’t see through my tears. My shaking hands can barely hold the phone.
“I’m sorry this Flash chose you. I really am. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, La.”
“I can’t just stand by. I have to help this kid.” I sob.
“Lala, you will have to make a choice: save the boy or save the movement.”
Fifteen-year-old Lala Russell is doing a bad job at being a Black girl. She has social justice fatigue, and she doesn’t want to join the Black Alliance Club at her school (even though she agrees with them). A gifted cellist, she’s focused on leaving her small town and accomplishing her goals and dreams. But Lala has also inherited another gift, her grandmother Sadie’s gift of foresight. She has visions of the future—and they always come true.
In Davey, the Texas sundown town she lives in, there is growing tension, as a Black organization attempts to diversify the nearly all-white part of town. Amidst violent protests, Lala has a vision. In it, a Black teenage boy is shot in the chest by a white homeowner. Now Lala has a mission: find the boy and save him.
But Grandma Sadie has a vision too. After the boy’s murder, a wave of protests breaks out. And the outrage over the casual and frequent slaying of unarmed Black children will result in unprecedented change. Change that won’t happen if the vision is altered. Lala is faced with an existential question—can she allow herself to sacrifice one life to, in turn, save many? And if so, whose life will she choose?