bun. She often wears clothes that look like theyâve been ordered out of a catalog. I enjoy smelling her cause she always wears a particular perfume.
Hello, Blacky, she says.
Hello, I say.
Youâre a bit early, arenât you?
Yes, I say.
No locker time?
Didnât need it, I say.
We missed you yesterday, she says, smoothing the front of her shirt. I can see her nipples and this makes my face hotter than usual.
Is everything okay? she asks.
Yes, I say. My voice cracks a little. This must have something to do with her nipples.
You sure?
Yes.
Are you feeling all right?
Iâm not falling, I say.
She says, I didnât say you were.
We donât talk for a second. For some reason I imagine the kinds of things she keeps in the drawers of her desk.
Stuff like aspirin and little tissues. A secret bottle of perfume. A tube of lipstick.
Miss Cosgrove leans forward and says, I asked if youâre feel ing all right, Blacky. Feel ing.
Oh, I say.
Itâs just that you seem so far away.
But Iâm not.
She stops leaning so much and paperclips some forms. She says, Howâs your mom doing these days?
I say, Sheâs okay.
Is she still working at St. Joeâs?
Yes.
Well, please tell her I say hello and give her my regards.
Okay.
Miss Cosgrove always wants to give her regards to people.
Like regards are little chocolates wrapped in foil.
She says, I look forward to seeing her at parent-teacher conferences.
I donât reply cause I know there will be lots of concern at this particular conference. Miss Cosgrove is always trying to recommend adjustments to my study habits. For state capitals she suggested that I use flash cards. I got only thirty-five of the state capitals correct, so she let me retake the test. I used the flash cards to study with, but I got only thirty-two correct the second time.
I worked hard on it, too.
The problem was I kept imagining myself getting lost in all those cities.
Like Montpelier, Vermont.
And Tallahassee, Florida.
Albany was a tough one, too. I couldnât ever seem to get out of Albany.
Miss Cosgrove has gone back to arranging her desk.
There are three polished stones on three stacks of papers.
I imagine her house. I see things stacked everywhere. Plates and mail and stuff like that. Neat stacks with little polished stones on top. I picture her married to a mailman. He never takes off his uniform and when they have sex he just undoes his fly and they moan at each other like theyâre sad.
I take out Mary Jane Paddingtonâs homework assignment about capital punishment. I begin copying it into my own notebook.
It reads:
Capital punishment is horrendous. People make mistakes and they should be punished, but putting others to death is animalistic behavior. Anotherâs death is not for us to decide. Itâs up to God to settle such matters of the mortal soul.
I donât believe capital punishment solves anything. Thereâs a guy named Mumia who is on Death Row in Philadelphia for killing a policeman in a race-related shootout. There is fishy evidence regarding this case. I wish they would free Mumia and go after the real evidence.
As I am copying Mary Jane Paddingtonâs assignment, Evan Keefler and Steve Degerald pass by the doorway.
They see me and stop.
Steve Degerald points at me and gives me a thumbs-up.
Then Evan Keefler does the same.
They are grinning so hard itâs like their teeth hurt.
I look away.
In the window the rain is coming harder. Itâs like someone is controlling it with a dial.
When I look back to the doorway Steve Degerald and Evan Keefler are gone.
In the bus line Jared Collins points at me and shoots me a thumbs-up.
Then Kevin Buhle and Richard Falcon do it too.
Richard Falconâs thumb has a black nail. In Language Arts Iâve seen him color it with a permanent marker. He calls it his Evil Thumb. He tells people he has tattoos but itâs a lie. I know this cause I saw him in
Hello, Blacky, she says.
Hello, I say.
Youâre a bit early, arenât you?
Yes, I say.
No locker time?
Didnât need it, I say.
We missed you yesterday, she says, smoothing the front of her shirt. I can see her nipples and this makes my face hotter than usual.
Is everything okay? she asks.
Yes, I say. My voice cracks a little. This must have something to do with her nipples.
You sure?
Yes.
Are you feeling all right?
Iâm not falling, I say.
She says, I didnât say you were.
We donât talk for a second. For some reason I imagine the kinds of things she keeps in the drawers of her desk.
Stuff like aspirin and little tissues. A secret bottle of perfume. A tube of lipstick.
Miss Cosgrove leans forward and says, I asked if youâre feel ing all right, Blacky. Feel ing.
Oh, I say.
Itâs just that you seem so far away.
But Iâm not.
She stops leaning so much and paperclips some forms. She says, Howâs your mom doing these days?
I say, Sheâs okay.
Is she still working at St. Joeâs?
Yes.
Well, please tell her I say hello and give her my regards.
Okay.
Miss Cosgrove always wants to give her regards to people.
Like regards are little chocolates wrapped in foil.
She says, I look forward to seeing her at parent-teacher conferences.
I donât reply cause I know there will be lots of concern at this particular conference. Miss Cosgrove is always trying to recommend adjustments to my study habits. For state capitals she suggested that I use flash cards. I got only thirty-five of the state capitals correct, so she let me retake the test. I used the flash cards to study with, but I got only thirty-two correct the second time.
I worked hard on it, too.
The problem was I kept imagining myself getting lost in all those cities.
Like Montpelier, Vermont.
And Tallahassee, Florida.
Albany was a tough one, too. I couldnât ever seem to get out of Albany.
Miss Cosgrove has gone back to arranging her desk.
There are three polished stones on three stacks of papers.
I imagine her house. I see things stacked everywhere. Plates and mail and stuff like that. Neat stacks with little polished stones on top. I picture her married to a mailman. He never takes off his uniform and when they have sex he just undoes his fly and they moan at each other like theyâre sad.
I take out Mary Jane Paddingtonâs homework assignment about capital punishment. I begin copying it into my own notebook.
It reads:
Capital punishment is horrendous. People make mistakes and they should be punished, but putting others to death is animalistic behavior. Anotherâs death is not for us to decide. Itâs up to God to settle such matters of the mortal soul.
I donât believe capital punishment solves anything. Thereâs a guy named Mumia who is on Death Row in Philadelphia for killing a policeman in a race-related shootout. There is fishy evidence regarding this case. I wish they would free Mumia and go after the real evidence.
As I am copying Mary Jane Paddingtonâs assignment, Evan Keefler and Steve Degerald pass by the doorway.
They see me and stop.
Steve Degerald points at me and gives me a thumbs-up.
Then Evan Keefler does the same.
They are grinning so hard itâs like their teeth hurt.
I look away.
In the window the rain is coming harder. Itâs like someone is controlling it with a dial.
When I look back to the doorway Steve Degerald and Evan Keefler are gone.
In the bus line Jared Collins points at me and shoots me a thumbs-up.
Then Kevin Buhle and Richard Falcon do it too.
Richard Falconâs thumb has a black nail. In Language Arts Iâve seen him color it with a permanent marker. He calls it his Evil Thumb. He tells people he has tattoos but itâs a lie. I know this cause I saw him in
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