Page 35 of The Black Flamingo

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After a few stops in silence, I ask,

“Are you still coming to mine for dinner?”

“Of course I am, queerdo,” says Daisy.

“Shut up, weirdo.” I laugh and put my arm

around her and kiss her on the cheek.

“Daisy, are you Greek?” asks Mum,

while serving up the shepherd’s pie.

Daisy laughs. “I usually get asked

if I’m Spanish.”

Mum starts with her own version

of the Spanish Inquisition: “Are you Spanish?”

“No. My dad is English,” says Daisy,

“and my mum is half English, half Jamaican.”

I remember Mum’s speech about halves.

We never talked about quarters, but isn’t that

what Daisy is?

“Michael’s and Anna’s dads are Jamaican.

I’m Greek Cypriot,” Mum says, proudly.

“You look like you could be my daughter.”

“Mummy,” says Anna, who has already started

eating, “this tastes funny.”

“It’s soy beef,” says Mum. “I wanted to see

if you could tell the difference.”

Up in my room, after dinner,

I show Daisy the copy ofCosmopolitan

magazine I stole from Mum’s room,

with Adam Levine on the cover.

“He’s so sexy, right?” I say to Daisy.

Bob Marley and Beyoncé watch over us

from my bedroom wall.

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