I went to elementary school with a boy named Jesse. I never met him. I never spoke to him. I'll never forget him. It was early one morning in our school's library that Jesse crossed my path. Historically low performing, Please Please Fund Us Elementary School adopted a rigorous language arts program that pitted students in competition to read the most books and earn the most points on comprehension quizes. At the end of each report card period our points could be cashed in for foil wrapped pencils or erasers that smelled faugely of fruit. The finest remuneration, earned only by the most bibliophile fifthgraders, included full-size stale candy bars and a Babysitter's Club calendar only 2 years out of date. Pursuits of such wonders, and desire to meet the minimum point requirements to avoid "silent lunch" brought many students to the library to find books and take their quizzes. Brought a few more to find trouble. On a rainy day in 1994, I was browsing the Judy Blume's when the trouble began. Jesse was in a huddle around a Where's Waldo.
I'm tellin ya. One of'ums nekkid.
Ain't niether! They wont put a nekkid lady is a kids book
Whatcher on the mountain page fer. The nekkid lady gone be on tha beach one.
I giggled overhearing them because I knew the pornographic picture book had been removed from the shelves long ago, and I had found the offending illustration on a dogeared page in a pediatrician's office. Our librarian was having none of it. Deftly she scattered the boys with scoldings and threats of silent lunch and they slunk in different directions. Jesse, DJ and Bubba (I wish I was kidding) Made their way to a bank of Apple 2Es to pad their foil pencil savings accounts.
Taking the quiz on the computer required logging in with our "real actual names." In a Southern farm town that couldn't fill the visitors side of a football stadium, getting kids to spell their "real actual names" was difficult. Bethanne logged in as Elizabeth Anne and Maybeth typed Mary Elizabeth. DJ became Daniel James, and JD was John David. Bubba had Robert E Lee Foote written on the inside band of his Fruit of the Looms. Jesse typed Jesus Lopez Junior. Billy Ray / William saw Jesse' s real actual name on the screen and called another huddle.
Billy Ray/William -- Whatcha type JeeZus for, Jesse?
Jesse / HaySoos -- That's my name. That's what they call me Jesse for.
DJ/Daniel James -- Lemme see that! Jesse! Yer name aint JeeZus! Ain't nobody named JeeZus but JeeZus!
JD / John David -- Only the devil call hisself JeeZus and not be JeZus.
Bubba / Robert E Lee Foote -- You gone go to the devil, Jesse
Jesse/HaySoos was eight. He was third generation in our shitty backwoods town, and ate far more boiled peanuts than black beans. He couldn't explain the distinct cultural differences between his family from Mexico and their families from South Carolina dirt farms. They didn't give him time to try.
A hand grasped a shirt collar.
A shirt collar ripped as Jesse/Jesus was pulled up from his chair.
A chair tumbled and hit the floor sideways.
So did Jesse.
Fists and feet and slurs fell from all directions. I ran farther into the stacks to hide and felt guilty for not knowing how to help him. Maybe it was a couple of minutes, or maybe it was 2000 years, but eventually the double-named Judases were pulled off.
"He says he's JeeZus! He caint just call hisself JeeZus! He's going to the devil sayin his Jeezus!"
Billy Ray/William, DJ / Daniel James, and Bubba / Robert E Lee Foote, howled in chorus.
I saw the blood on Jesse/Jesus's face. I shrank further and prayed I'd become invisible as he walked passed to the nurse.
The passion played before me in my school's library sat in my stomach like stale bread and sour grape juice. I'd seen boys beat each other up before. I'd seen them turn on their own. But I never saw a boy beat that badly unprovoked. I never saw a boy named Jesus. I was grappling to understand how a literacy quiz became a hate crime that I watched from behind Tales of a Fourthgrade Nothing. After school I asked my mama, "Why would somebody name their baby Jesus?"
"That's silly,"she told me. "Nobody names their baby Jesus. "
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