Chapter Three: Making a Stand
"It's systemic," Alanna opined with a sigh. "I asked a couple of older girls after I talked to Amanda and her crowd and they pretty much said the same thing Amanda had."
"And not just a 'no one's ever asked before' systemic," Lance put in, running a hand through his hair. "Jordan's an idiot, but I believe him when he says he asked – or guys in his group asked – doesn't matter which. Either way, they're deliberately forcing tech-borns and half-bloods with techie parents to cut their connections to the tech world. I mean, seriously, are the parents actually going to believe that their kid asked and got told 'no'?"
"Hmmm, let me think about that," Alanna mused, mockery in her voice. "I'm going to go with a big fat zero on that one. Remember what The Judge says about teenagers?"
"Only in this case, we aren't lying," Lance grumbled. He sighed again, glancing over at the school building and wishing, just a little, that he didn't have magic; it would make things easier, at least in the short term.
"So what now, big brother?" Alanna queried, giving Lance an expectant look.
"What do you mean, 'what now'?"
"We're not going to just stand here and take this, are we?" Alanna demanded, hands on hips.
"Geeze, sis, I don't want to, but what can we do? We're just kids – and this isn't like our first Halloween here; you're talking about going up against the entire school administration and centuries of tradition – not to mention fear, not just a couple of punks dressed up like the Royal Flush Gang." Frustration etched itself on Lance's face and he paced back and forth. "I'd like to do something, 'Lanna, I really would, but what? And even if we come up with a 'what', how would we do it?"
Alanna crossed her arms, watching her brother pace as she thought the problem over. "So…we need help?"
Lance paused, turning towards her. "Yeah, but from who? This isn't something Uncle Greg can help us with, 'Lanna."
The redhead nodded absently, turning her idea over and poking it for holes. "I have an idea…"
By the beginning of the next day, the whispers were flying fast and thick; whispers about a meeting for Muggleborns and those half-bloods with one Muggle parent. The purebloods scoffed, ignoring the meeting as beneath their notice; such meetings cropped up from time to time, but never produced anything of worth. Nothing to worry about.
But for the Muggleborns and half-bloods, something about the tenor of these whispers was different. For those who'd walked into the magical world, wide-eyed with wonder, only to become jaded as the years went by and the magical world's prejudice lashed at them, anything was better than doing nothing. So they agreed, amongst themselves, to attend the meeting and see if, at long last, something could be done, if something could be changed.
Lance and Alanna arrived at the meeting room immediately after school and started setting things up: chairs, tables, and Lance had even – the night before – snuck out and called Mindy to Toronto so she could make and serve snacks at the meeting. By the time the first tech-borns and half-bloods arrived, the room was as ready as it was going to be and the two purebloods were perched on the platform they'd conjured at the head of the room. There was some grumbling when it became apparent who had called the meeting, but, miraculously, no one left. Instead, the tech-borns and half-bloods warily picked seats and sat down, cautiously chatting about the upcoming tournament and their classes.
When the meeting time arrived and – more importantly – it looked like everyone who would be coming was present, Alanna stood up and let out a sharp whistle, drawing attention to the front of the meeting room. "Thank you all for coming," she began, raising her voice so everyone could hear her. "We'll get right to the point of the meeting: the fact that our Muggle parents can't come any school events."
"You don't have Muggle parents," a wag in the back yelled.
Alanna looked right back, calm and unruffled. "No, but my brother and I do have a Muggle guardian and he's not invited to our school events either."
Whispers rose and Alanna didn't even attempt to speak over the noise. It was one of the seventh years who finally stood up and questioned, "And you two think you can change years of school policy and tradition?"
"Not alone we can't," Lance put in, moving up beside his sister. "But if we've learned anything from our uncle, it's that if we work together, we can do more than any one of us could do alone."
"Not to mention the fact that things never change unless someone makes them change," Alanna chimed in. "So let's start with what doesn't work, so we know what not to do."
A few confused looks were exchanged, then a third year piped up, "One time, I just brought my parents along without getting tickets and the Muggle-Repelling wards kept them out of the school."
Alanna arched a brow, then took the techie notebook Lance shoved under her nose, along with the pen, and hastily scribbled down the third year's attempt. "Anyone else try something like that?" she asked. Close to two dozen students raised their hands. "Okay. I'll add asking for tickets from the teachers to the list, since we all know that doesn't work. Are tickets only available from the teachers?"
A sixth year stood up, glaring until he was acknowledged. "I got a summer job last summer and saved up enough to get one of my classmates to buy my tickets for me, but the tickets had charms on 'em and whenever I tried to give 'em to my folks, they dashed off and I never could give them the stupid tickets."
The redhead's eyes narrowed in ill-concealed fury and she almost ripped through the paper as she wrote the tale down. "Anyone else try that?" she inquired, burying her rage under a forced calm. Only a few hands went up and she shook her head. "Please, stand up for this one. I don't know if bait and switch is illegal in the magical world, but it should be."
"Actually," Lance rumbled, "Everyone who tried to get tickets through classmates, please come up and talk to me; I can't promise anything, but we'll try to at least get your money back."
A short line formed by the brunet and Lance pulled out his own notebook to write down as many details as the victims could remember. The main meeting stalled until they were done, but no one seemed to mind. As Lance interviewed his classmates, angry hisses and outraged noises went 'round the room; the tech-borns and half-bloods were starting to get even angrier than they had been before the meeting as they watched their scammed classmates line up to talk to the grim-faced pureblood at the front.
While Lance interviewed their classmates, Alanna flipped to a new page in her notebook and started writing, the tip of her tongue poking out as she schemed and plotted. By the time Lance was done, she had the rough beginnings of a plan, even if she wasn't sure it would work. She looked up and over at her brother, who gave her a nod; he was done. She stood up, immediately gaining the full attention of the room. "Okay, I think trying to get our parents/guardians to the school event is out," she admitted unhappily. Rumbles of agreement rose from the students. "So, as far as the school tournament goes, a boycott is really our only option." She looked around, her eyes apologetic. "For those of you who were planning on going, I'm sorry, but if we want things to change, we'll have to make our own sacrifices."
"But that's not all we're going to do, is it, sis?" Lance filled in, clambering up to stand next to his sister.
"No," Alanna agreed, glancing down at her notebook. "But, um, that's as far as I got, I'm afraid. Boycotting just about any school event that says parents can come, but won't let our parents come. Does anyone have any other ideas?"
A tiny first year raised her hand and stood up once she was acknowledged. "Um, one of my brothers gave me his old books and one of them's about the Negro League."
"Negro League?" Lance questioned, studying the girl with an intrigued expression. "And what's your name?"
"I'm Ellen Talbot," the shy little girl replied. "And the Negro League was a baseball league for blacks, back when they weren't allowed to play baseball with everyone else." Silence hung, but the interest of the other students was palpable. Ellen perked up and continued, "The Negro League players were just as good as the white players and some of them were even better, but they still weren't allowed to play with white players until Jackie Robinson joined the Brooklyn Dodgers. After that, anyone could play on the big baseball teams, so the Negro League died out."
A second year bounced up, excited and waving his hand. Without waiting to be acknowledged, he yelled, "How 'bout we make our own tournament? We could call it the Muggleborn Tournament and invite our parents!"
For a few seconds, the room stared between the second year and little Ellen, then Ellen bobbed her head, smiling widely. "That sounds like a great idea, Richie!"
"But that leaves the half-bloods out," a seventh year girl pointed out, tossing her head. "The point is we don't want to leave anyone out, right?"
Alanna spoke up before things could devolve, "Ellen, you said that baseball league was called the Negro League?"
"Uh-huh," Ellen agreed.
"Who came up with that name, do you know?"
Ellen stopped, her expression unsure. "W-Well, I guess they probably came up with it themselves?" she offered uncertainly.
Thoughtful, Alanna folded her arms and rocked back on her heels, thinking hard. "I think Jasmine is right," she announced after a minute or two, gesturing to the seventh year girl who'd spoken up. "Muggleborn Tournament leaves out the half-bloods and the Muggle raised. But I'm thinking, we're going to do this for our parents, right? Our Muggle parents?"
Agreeing murmurs rose from the crowd, though no one looked quite sure where Alanna was going with her line of thought.
"When our uncle first heard the word 'Muggle', he made us stop using it," Alanna revealed.
"What? Why?" Jordan demanded from near the back. Confused murmurs rose for a few seconds as the rest of the students traded startled looks; a Muggle had made a pureblood stop using the word 'Muggle'?
"He said it sounded like an insult," Lance put in, stepping forward. "And he said it didn't take into account any of the non-magical world's accomplishments or anything like that."
"So what do you use instead?" Amanda chipped in from right near the front, surrounded by her clique. "Non-magical?" Scorn dripped from her voice and she pointedly began to rearrange her hair instead of looking up at Alanna.
"Nope," Alanna replied, popping the 'p' and smirking, just a bit; Amanda froze, right in the middle of pulling her hair back. "A non-magical family friend came up with a name. Officially, the non-magical world is the technological world and we use 'techies' for short." She grinned, then added, "Look, anyone comes up with something better, we're open to suggestions, but that's a name that someone without a lick of magic came up with and it gives credit where it's due. 'Cause it's true: the magical world uses hardly any modern technology…"
"We still write with quills and parchment for crying out loud," Lance interrupted and added. "I think I know where my sister is going with this. If we're going to do this, we should do it right. And I don't know about you lot, but I think doing it right means not using an insulting label for our parents or guardians."
"So," Alanna cut back in, her eyes lighting up in her own excitement. "How about 'Techie League'? None of us are techies, but that's who we're doing it for, right?"
One of the seventh years stood up, moving to the front, the same light of a challenge seen and accepted in his eyes. "So," he started. "You want us to boycott the school tournament and, at the same time, create and run our own?"
The siblings traded looks, then met the seventh year's gaze. "Pretty much," Alanna replied.
"Pretty much," Lance echoed, just a beat behind.
The seventh year, a Muggleborn/tech-born named Timothy Speedeli, grinned and turned to his classmates. "All in favor for boycotting the school dueling tournament, say 'Aye'."
The Aye's roared back at him.
"All in favor for doing our own dueling tournament, say 'Aye'."
Again, the Aye's roared back; Lance and Alanna traded wide-eyed looks and wisely said nothing.
Timothy's grin was vicious and nearly triumphant. "And all in favor of calling our organization here 'The Techie League'?"
This time, the Aye's were lesser and not exactly roared, but there were enough that the motion carried. Speedeli twisted back to the Calvin siblings and he inclined his head in clear respect. "We're in. What's our next step?"
Alanna allowed a rather fangy grin of her own. "You let us handle that part."
Author note: First off, I borrowed the last name 'Speedeli' from a CSI: Miami story called "Speed Trap" by SpeedBurn. Quite a good story for those of us who absolutely hated "Lost Son" and the departure of one Tim Speedle from the show.
Now then, the Negro League is one of those parts of American history that's…lesser known, shall we say. It's fair to say that without the rampant prejudice and the legalization of segregation, the Negro League probably wouldn't have existed, but by the same token, the Negro League was an incredible example of a group of people who took a set of adverse circumstances and refused to let those circumstances dictate their lives. Would that we had even a fraction of the courage that some of these folks had!
I myself first encountered the history of the Negro League in the pages of a Wishbone Mystery book called Forgotten Heroes. And yes, that's the same Wishbone I'm sure many of my generation remember seeing on PBS: the little dog with a big imagination!
