Page 41 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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“Yeah.” “Okay.” “I guess so.” “Which day?”

Matt and I say nothing.

“Mr. Ndour and I will check our calendars,

and we’ll get word to you

through your form tutors.”

“Great,” says Mr. Ndour, who knows

Ms. Sarpong is creating extra work for him.

“You can go now, boys.”

“Matthew and Malachi,” says Ms. Sarpong,

“if you could stay behind for a moment.”

The Boys pile out of the classroom door

and into the corridor.

They don’t look back or say goodbye.

Ms. Sarpong adjusts her lanyard

and straightens the Progress Pride flag badge.

She addresses us in a hushed tone,

as if bringing us into her confidence:

“Matthew. Malachi.

Quite frankly, I’m surprised.

This isn’t like you.

I didn’t have you pegged as

school absconders.”

She pauses, but Matt and I say nothing.

“I know we had a lot

of big personalities in the room today,

and only a limited amount of time,

but I noticed

neither of you said anything.”

She pauses, again, but we still say nothing.

“Well, as I said,

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