Standing outside
leaning against
a light blue convertible car
is The Mac.
Hey, Mr. Mac. What’s up?
You forgot this. Again, he says, handing
you your flash drive
with Hardwick’s almost finished
persuasive essay on it.
Thanks. You rock, Mr. Mac!
Maybe you need to wear it
around your neck.
That’s your new car?
Blue Moon River.
Huh?
It’s a 1972 Ford Mercury Brougham Montego drop-top.
Pretty zazzy!*
Interesting name for a car, though.
Nicholas, there’s only a hundred or so of these left.
Oh, I get it—it’s rare, like once in a blue moon.
Exactly! Me and Blue Moon River are searching for the rainbow’s end.
Uh . . . okay, but why River?
Nick, the river is always turning and bending. You never know where it’s going to go and where you’ll wind up.
Follow the bend.
That’s pretty deep, Mr. Mac.
Stay on your own path. Don’t let anyone deter you. Eartha Kitt said that.
Who’s Bertha Schmidt?
Nicholas, turns out Ms. Hardwick isn’t the only one leaving, he says.
What do you mean?
Langston Hughes will be looking for a new librarian, too.
You’re not coming back?
I’m not coming back.
Why?
Because the river turns, and there’s a lot of world to see.
Are you following Ms. Hardwick?
You’re a smart kid.
A new book for you,
he says, reaching
into the bag
on the ground next to him.
Thanks. Rhyme Schemer’s a dope title, Mr. Mac.
Is this your autobiography?
It’s not, but you’re gonna dig it.
The question is will it rip my heart out
and stomp on it?
I’m outta here, he says, jumping
into Blue Moon River.
Don’t forget your bag, you say,
picking it up to hand to him, but
right before he speeds off
The Mac yells,
That’s yours too. Be cool, Nick.