Prologue
He had already gotten used to the slightly musty smell of Mrs. Jaminez’s second-grade classroom. It still hit pretty hard first thing in the morning, though. She stood in front of the whiteboard, writing out multiples of two, and he recited the answers in his head. Another lesson he didn’t need.
He rested his head in his hand and watched her work.
“Deon, what’s two times fifteen?”
“Teacher, that one isn’t on the board!” Isaac shouted.
“Please remember to use your indoor voice. And yes, I know, but consider it a test.”
“Thirty, I think.”
“You think?”
“Sure.”
“Is he right?”
“Yes,” a student answered.
She turned back to the board and finished writing out the table up to five. She left two times five unsolved. That would be the class’s job, and then she’d add the next one.
He tapped his finger lightly on the textbook he hadn’t opened.
“Psst,” Keyon said, leaning sideways in his chair to get his attention. His Afro was lined up fresh around the edges.
Deon glanced his way, then looked back at the board.
“Nigga, you heard me.”
“Oooo, Keyon said a bad word,” Hana said.
“Nigga ain’t a bad word,” he responded.
“Key, come on, man. Act like you have some home training.”
“I was tryna see if you wanted to hoop with us after school.”
“…And that couldn’t wait till after class?”
“Can we stop it with the sidebar?” Mrs. Jaminez interrupted. “And it is a bad word in my classroom, Keyon. Do I need to call your mother?”
“No, she at work. She gone be mad.”
“Then behave.”
Hana twisted in her chair and gave Keyon a smirk, her long braids sliding over one shoulder.
“I can’t stand yo big-headed self. That’s why you ain’t got no edges.”
“I do have edges!” Hana’s hand went straight to the braids at her hairline.
“Where?”
“Okay, stop. Keyon, go to the quiet corner.”
“I ain’t do nothing!”
“Now.”
He smacked his teeth and got up from his chair, grumbling all the way to the back of the class, where a chair sat facing the wall.
Deon shook his head without turning to look at him.
“Okay, class, let’s get back on track.”
There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Jaminez looked visibly annoyed. She set her marker on the whiteboard ledge, fixed her expression quickly, and opened it. The vice principal walked in with a small girl behind him, practically hiding in his shadow.
Mr. Drake brushed past Mrs. Jaminez to the front of the class, the ends of his thick mustache just starting to go gray. For some reason, he looked at the board.
“Bit early in the year for times tables, isn’t it?”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Maybe, but…” Her eyes flickered toward Deon. “I believe this crop of students is ready.”
He must have caught her meaning. Or maybe he’d just noticed the disinterested kid in class. Mr. Drake turned his narrow eyes on Deon.
“You there?”
“Sir?”
“Ten times five.”
“Mr. Drake, we haven’t—”
“Fifty,” Deon replied.
Mr. Drake gave what could have passed for a smile. “Seven times nine.”
“Sixty-three.”
He looked back at Mrs. Jaminez, then to Deon. “I see. Mrs. Jaminez, please see me at the end of the day. For now, class, I’d like to introduce you to a new student who will be joining you. Her family just moved here, and she’s a little nervous.”
He nudged the girl forward. “Introduce yourself.”
The girl stepped forward, her hands gripping the skirt of her dress and her eyes on the ground. Her hair was messy, like the neighborhood girls who were still waiting their turn for their mamas to get to their heads. Except somebody had clearly tried to do hers already. Somehow, it didn’t look wrong, though.
She lifted her head to speak, and the first thing Deon noticed was her blue eyes. Her skin was light brown, and he’d never seen a girl with her complexion and blue eyes before.
“My-my name is Sierra Hernandez. I’m seven…” She looked back at the vice principal, and he nodded for her to continue. “I moved here from, um, Texas, and I like to play house… Please be my friend.”
Something about the sincerity in her small voice caught him. Before he could think about it, the word slipped out.
“Cute.”
The entire class turned to look at him. Sierra’s eyes met his, and she smiled. She was missing one of her front teeth, like half the class.
From the back of the classroom, a loud burst of laughter cut through the room.
“Yo, you trippin’. He said the quiet part out loud.”
The rest of the class joined in. Deon felt heat spreading across his face and turned away from those blue eyes.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Ms. Hernandez, why don’t you take a seat next to Hana? Hana, raise your hand.”
Hana’s hand shot into the air.
“Oh man, not forehead,” Keyon said.
“Shut up!” Hana shot back.
“Make me.”
“Mr. Keyon, how about you come join me in my office?” Mr. Drake said.
“I’m actually okay in the quiet corner.”
“I bet. Let’s talk about it down the hall.”
“Mrs. Jaminez?” Keyon asked.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I warned you. Go ahead and go.”
Keyon stood and kicked over the chair. “Hate this school!”
“Pick up the chair.”
Keyon walked out of the classroom without picking it up. Mr. Drake shook his head and started after him.
“Sorry about him,” Mrs. Jaminez said.
“Don’t be. I’ll get his mom on the phone and sort him out.”
“She won’t love that.”
The look on Mr. Drake’s face changed. Deon didn’t really know what it meant, but he didn’t look happy. He left without saying anything else.
“Don’t worry, most of us are nice,” Hana told Sierra. “Keyon is just bad.”
“Hana, we don’t say that. He’s not bad, he’s… learning,” Mrs. Jaminez said.
“Well, he’s a dumb-dumb.”
“That’s not nice,” Mrs. Jaminez added.
Hana’s eyes turned down at the corners. She frowned toward the door.
Deon knew Hana from around the neighborhood. They played together a lot. She was cool people. Keyon just knew how to ruffle her feathers.
“Sorry,” Hana mumbled.
But Deon had mostly been looking that way because Sierra had taken the seat beside her. There were two desks between them. Sierra leaned back in her chair and gave him a small wave.
He turned away without waving back.
Mrs. Jaminez asked everyone to get out a pencil and paper. Deon reached for his things while Sierra dug through her bag. And kept digging.
By the time everyone else had their supplies out, she was still looking. She glanced around the room. Her eyes found his, and she got up and walked over.
“Can I borrow a pencil?”
“Um… I don’t have an extra…”
He followed her gaze to the pencil in his hand and then to the one sitting at the edge of his desk.
“What about that one?”
“Absolutely not. It’s my lucky pencil.” He snatched it off the desk. A special Naruto pencil. At least, that’s what his dad told him when he gave it to him.
Sierra rolled her eyes a little. “Stingy. Then you use lucky and let me have that one.”
“…I don’t know you like that.”
“It’s the cute girl from the front of class, ’member?”
He looked away. “If I give you the pencil, will you leave?”
“Hmmm, if you gimmie the Naruto pencil.”
He snapped his head toward her and found her smirking.
“No… but you can borrow this one.” He handed her the pencil in his hand. “I want it back, though.”
She nodded five times fast.
“Gracias.”
Deon blinked at her. Her accent sounded stronger up close than it had at the front of the class, and he had no idea what she’d just said.
Sierra paused, her eyes growing wide. Her cheeks turned red.
“Sorry! Thank you, um…”
“Deon.”
“Thanks, Deon!” She flashed him a smile before jogging back to her desk.
He watched her go. He didn’t know what the Spanish word meant, but he liked how she’d said it. Something about the sound reminded him of when his mama used to read him stories before bed.
How hard could Spanish be to learn, anyway?
He already knew his times tables.
