Kind Of

The bell rings after English

and Stacey says, “Daddy finally let me get the Cream album.

You want to come over today and listen?”

“I can’t. Remember?”

“No, it’s different. Mother did an about-face

about . . . all that. She asked me to invite you.”

“What made it different?”

Stacey shrugs. “I think when she met your mother

at the wives’ tea.”

I don’t know what Mama did or said

to change Stacey’s mom’s mind.

I want to say yes—but

I want to go

when I want to go,

not when Stacey’s mom

says I can.

“Today’s not a good day,” I tell Stacey,

which is the truth.

“I have a lot of homework,”

which is kind of a lie.

“Sure?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

I know she knows what I’m thinking

because she’s my best friend

and can read my mind.

“Maybe tomorrow?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Mimi, please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

Which is also kind of a lie.

“Okay, call me tonight,” she says,

and looks kind of sad. I would be lying

if I said that didn’t make me

kind of happy.