“I like to start with an easy speech on the first day, just to get the jitters out,” Mr. Humphries says. “We’ll be reading some great books in this class, and doing a lot of writing, but we’ll also learn about communication and different kinds of speeches, and you’ll have an opportunity to deliver different kinds through the course of the year. By the end of the seventh grade, you’ll be pros.” He winks at us. “Our next one won’t be impromptu like the one today. You’ll have time to think about it. I’ll assign it later this week.”
No way can I stay in this class.
10
Complicated Equations
Luckily, my last class of the day is math, and I allow the logic of complicated equations to soothe me. When the bell rings at the end of the period, I’m a little startled to realize I’ve survived my first day of junior high.
The walk home from John Wayne is longer than from Hancock Elementary, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. Maybe I’ll mind when the weather gets cooler and rainy, but today the sun is shining and my bag is swinging, and I feel grown.
I’m so busy feeling proud of myself that I don’t notice the girl in front of me until I bang into her.
“Jenae!” she says, smiling.
Roxane Samuels. Malcolm’s ex.
“Oh, hi, Rox,” I say, feeling uncomfortable. Malcolm and Rox dated their whole senior year, and I was sad when they stopped going out, because nobody could make Malcolm laugh like Rox could. She even made Mama laugh. I don’t know why her and Malcolm broke up, but afterward, Malcolm said she posted stuff online about him, and that’s not a cool thing to do, so I feel like I should be angry with her on his behalf.
“I heard your brother’s back home,” she says, and her voice squeaks like she’s trying too hard to sound casual. “How’s he doing?”
“Fine,” I say, because I know that’s what Malcolm would want me to tell her.
Rox looks like a movie star. She’s tall with dark, dark skin that is so smooth it looks painted on. And she has the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, with long eyelashes that probably don’t even need mascara. And the prettiest thing is her smile. But she’s not smiling now. Rox twists the strap of her purse, and she looks sad.
“It must be hard,” she says. “Basketball was . . .” Her eyes look at something far away.
“Yeah.” I know what she means without her saying it, and I shrug like it doesn’t matter, like Malcolm losing basketball is no big deal. And it feels awful. “But he’s fine,” I insist, even though I’m sure Rox knows I’m lying. Mama thought Rox was “good” for Malcolm; I just liked how relaxed Malcolm got with her, and how happy. Still, she shouldn’t have put their business online.
“I should be mad at you,” she says, and my eyes go wide like someone pinched me. Is she reading my mind?
“Introducing me to that Astrid Dane,” she goes on, and laughs. “I’m as bad as you used to be, always waiting for a new episode.”
I can’t help grinning at that. “Sorry,” I say.
“Your brother won’t ever admit it, but I think he likes her too,” she says conspiratorially.
“He sure doesn’t act like it,” I say, but then I want to bite my tongue. It seems wrong chatting with Rox about Malcolm, even if we’re just joking around.
She smiles at me, and that makes me feel worse. “Tell you what,” she says. “You got a phone?”
When I nod, she holds her hand out and I give her my phone. She types something in.
“Now you have my number. I changed it from before. Didn’t need a bunch of folks from high school keeping in touch, you know?”
I don’t, but I nod again anyway.
“Tell Malcolm I said hey. And if he wants to . . . reconnect, um, he can call or text me. I mean, I would be okay with that.” She looks down at the ground for a minute before glancing back up at me with a shy smile. Then with a little wave, she starts to walk past me. “Bye, Jenae,” she says, her voice light and airy as a spring breeze.
I continue down the street feeling guilty, even though I didn’t do anything wrong. I have to fix Malcolm, not make him worse. I definitely won’t be telling him I talked to his ex.
11
The Worst Thing
When I get home, Malcolm is in the big comfy chair that is usually reserved for Gee, gripping a game controller tight. He’s only been gone a day, but I already miss Gee.
“What are you doing?” I ask Malcolm, as if it’s not obvious.
Malcolm clicks off his game and sets down the controller. “A whole lot of nothing,” he says. He stretches in that way you do when you haven’t moved for a long time, and his body creaks and pops as if he’s really an old man. “How was school? First day and all.”
I think of the number in my phone, and a fresh wave of guilt washes over me. “It was okay.” I plop down on the couch. “I didn’t get lost once.”
“Of course you didn’t. Not after having such an excellent tour guide.” He adjusts the straps of his knee brace.
I try to think of something else to say.
Before Malcolm went away to college, when we were both home from school, we’d talk outside, with Malcolm practicing his shots and me chasing down the ball for him. Mama wouldn’t get home from work until close to dinnertime, and Gee was usually running the streets somewhere, so it would be just me and Malcolm. Boys’ varsity always practiced late, so he didn’t have to go back up to school until after dinner. I wish we were outside now. It’s easier to talk when you’re doing something else.
“There were people outside of school this morning. Mama got a flier. About the school’s name?” Mama didn’t seem very concerned about it, but at least it’s something to say. Malcolm must not have heard anything about it, because he just shrugs; then he winces and rubs his leg.
I start gnawing on my lip. I hate seeing him in pain.
“So what was the worst thing?” he asks.
I’m not sure when Malcolm and I started doing this. Mama had read in a book or magazine or something that over dinner we should tell each other the best thing that happened to us that day. Do you know how hard it is to come up with good things every day? Almost impossible. Malcolm and I would say things like A bird didn’t poop on my head. I didn’t get detention. Eventually Mama got tired of the whole thing and let us stop, but Malcolm and I realized coming up with something bad that happened was super easy.
It might sound like it would be depressing to think of the worst thing, but actually, it makes whatever that worst thing is seem not so bad. I mean, if the worst thing you can say about your day is that you tripped on some stairs, it’s not so hard to see how it actually wasn’t that bad and could’ve been a whole lot worse.
Today my worst thing is pretty bad, though. “I had to give a speech.” Just thinking about it makes a nasty taste climb up my throat.
Malcolm laughs. “Is that all?”
“I don’t like talking in front of people.” This is what is called an understatement. To make my point I add, “I thought I was going to die. Like, seriously, drop dead right there in class.”