WE HAVING A test. We get to take as much time as we need. It don’t make sense to me. We only had six Saturday classes, and I ain’t finish some of the homework. Miss Saunders say we can use our notes and textbooks. McClenton Middle’s stamped in the book she brung to me. In between looking at the written assignment on the board, I wonder what she know. How much JuJu told her? Or if she told her anything at all.

Our math test comes first. For once, I’m done when Maleeka is done. I take longer on the history part. For English, we get to write a poem about anything we want. She only gave us three rules.

1. Use metaphors and/or similes. (What’s them again? I ask.)

2. Draw on nature for inspiration. Use plenty of imagery.

3. Use a dictionary. Spelling errors will cost you points.

It’s like that poem been sitting inside me since that night I ran into Anthony. Using a pencil, I write it down fast, erase some lines, cross out others, rewrite the whole thing, then ball up the paper I made a mess of. I turn it into a basketball that I shoot in the can by my desk. And start the whole thing again.