Page 100 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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I make them laugh?

Real time resumes.

“Ms. Sarpong’s office.” Mr. Ndour points

to his classroom door.

His nostrils flare a warning.

“Gladly,” I say, and I stand.

My plastic-and-metal school chair

tips and falls backward,

and I can’t be bothered to pick it up.

I pick up my backpack,

which is even heavier now

with one more book,

signed by The Author.

I know better than to throw my backpack.

I know I have a bright future,

no matter what

this one teacher thinks of me.

I step into the empty corridor.

The Boys begin to mutter.

“Silence right now!” Mr. Ndour yells,

and The Boys obey.

Tuesday: The Good One—After School at Granny’s

T’s taken The Twins to the park.

“You’re supposed to be the good one, Malachi.

Now me have to worry about you, too?”

asks Granny, standing over me.

I don’t answer her.

I sit silent and still

at the empty kitchen table.

Dinner’s cooked, but it won’t be served

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