Page 122 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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“Read this and discuss it with your mum

and then let me know if you want me to

go ahead and make the referral.”

Mr. Ndour lets out a big breath and I wonder if

this conversation is difficult for him, too.

“Something else that may be of interest to you

is that we’ve invited The Author to come in next term

to do some creative writing workshops

with a select group of students, after school

in the library with Mrs. James.”

He pushes more paper across his desk.

“Here’s all the information about that.

I know you’re hoping to be an author one day.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, gathering it up

and stuffing it into my already full backpack.

I remember my anger

in the assembly hall,

when I wanted to throw

this heavy backpack

at Mr. Ndour’s head,

and I think maybe

speaking to a counselor

could be a good idea.

I really love the idea

of creative writing workshops

with The Author.

I haven’t had time

to read his book yet,

but my signed copy waits for me

inside my backpack.

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