understanding; it was almost like he was seeing his mother and himself in a mirror.
“It started when they hung the mural at school. He would have been so proud, but he wasn’t there. Every time something happened and he wasn’t there to see it, it was like he died all over again. So I shut down. It didn’t seem fair that life could go on just like always. To go on made it seem like he never mattered.”
“Oh, Inky.” She put her arms around him. It was stiff, but it helped. Somehow he believed she was doing the best that she could.
After a moment she cleared her throat and returned to her more remote self.
“Thank you for cleaning up. You’re right. He would have wanted this. But shouldn’t you be spending time on your schoolwork?
“Schoolwork? We’re talking about schoolwork?”
“Well, dear, Principal Harooni called today to say there was a watch on your file.”
“A watch. Does it tell time? Oops, sorry. Lame joke. But really, what do they expect? It’s the first month of school.”
“It’s time to turn the corner. You know the consequences if you fail your core subjects.”
“I’m making good progress on my presentation. So far, Mrs. Patel really likes my drawings.”
Inky’s mother raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you can talk to your teachers then and find out what they want from you.”
As she walked out, she gave him another stiff hug meant to make him feel better. It did not.
His legs felt like jelly, and he sunk into the beanbag chair. He was deeply tired; the day’s events swirled in primary colors in his head like a spin art: Amanda’s haircut, his big red “F” for epic fail on the science quiz, the fights with his mother and Rungs. It was like a centrifugal force was drawing it all outward, lifting it away from him, creating an intricate, layered image.
He glanced up at the bookshelves. The mask seemed to smile down on him. The study felt calm. The spirits, at least, were at peace.
* * *
Later in his room, he sent an IM to Rungs.
Inky : You have spirit houses. We have Fantastik and Windex. Sorry I blew up. U were right.
Chapter 20
If the Shoe Fits
A MANDA WHISTLED AS SHE THREW her books down on the bed. With Hawk helping her, she didn’t dread her project so much.
She looked into the mirror and put her hands on her hips in exaggerated toughness, mimicking Hawk. Then she put one hand up and rested her head on it, like a model’s pose. She looked “fierce,” to borrow a Hawk word.
Amanda turned on her music. She felt like dancing. The song sounded better coming from her computer than the last time she’d heard it, on a tinny player in the Nairobi market. She saw that there was an email from her brother Derek.
He told her how hard his classes were and how there were more people in his own dorm than in their last two schools combined. He’d even run into the son of the ambassador from Benin. Did she remember, he asked, that they’d lived in the same area in France when Amanda was really young? At the end he said he missed her, wondered how she was adjusting to her new school and asked if their parents were spoiling their baby girl rotten.
Amanda wrote that she was becoming a New York sophisticate. “ You may not recognize your baby sister when you see me again.” She didn’t let herself miss him.
She opened her project notes and jotted down some of what Hawk had told her about the different friendship groups at the school. She giggled as she remembered Hawk telling her about the time prissy Priya planned the group outing to Serendipity then barfed frozen hot chocolate on Sven Thorsson’s shoes.
The Sacred Circle shopped together, and it showed. When they had something new, like the brown burlap “Feed” bag that they all used as a book bag, others in the school, Amanda now included, soon followed. Amanda made a note of the irony. Here they were in a school that celebrated diversity, and all they all wanted was to fit in.
It was a good point, but there was
“It started when they hung the mural at school. He would have been so proud, but he wasn’t there. Every time something happened and he wasn’t there to see it, it was like he died all over again. So I shut down. It didn’t seem fair that life could go on just like always. To go on made it seem like he never mattered.”
“Oh, Inky.” She put her arms around him. It was stiff, but it helped. Somehow he believed she was doing the best that she could.
After a moment she cleared her throat and returned to her more remote self.
“Thank you for cleaning up. You’re right. He would have wanted this. But shouldn’t you be spending time on your schoolwork?
“Schoolwork? We’re talking about schoolwork?”
“Well, dear, Principal Harooni called today to say there was a watch on your file.”
“A watch. Does it tell time? Oops, sorry. Lame joke. But really, what do they expect? It’s the first month of school.”
“It’s time to turn the corner. You know the consequences if you fail your core subjects.”
“I’m making good progress on my presentation. So far, Mrs. Patel really likes my drawings.”
Inky’s mother raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you can talk to your teachers then and find out what they want from you.”
As she walked out, she gave him another stiff hug meant to make him feel better. It did not.
His legs felt like jelly, and he sunk into the beanbag chair. He was deeply tired; the day’s events swirled in primary colors in his head like a spin art: Amanda’s haircut, his big red “F” for epic fail on the science quiz, the fights with his mother and Rungs. It was like a centrifugal force was drawing it all outward, lifting it away from him, creating an intricate, layered image.
He glanced up at the bookshelves. The mask seemed to smile down on him. The study felt calm. The spirits, at least, were at peace.
* * *
Later in his room, he sent an IM to Rungs.
Inky : You have spirit houses. We have Fantastik and Windex. Sorry I blew up. U were right.
Chapter 20
If the Shoe Fits
A MANDA WHISTLED AS SHE THREW her books down on the bed. With Hawk helping her, she didn’t dread her project so much.
She looked into the mirror and put her hands on her hips in exaggerated toughness, mimicking Hawk. Then she put one hand up and rested her head on it, like a model’s pose. She looked “fierce,” to borrow a Hawk word.
Amanda turned on her music. She felt like dancing. The song sounded better coming from her computer than the last time she’d heard it, on a tinny player in the Nairobi market. She saw that there was an email from her brother Derek.
He told her how hard his classes were and how there were more people in his own dorm than in their last two schools combined. He’d even run into the son of the ambassador from Benin. Did she remember, he asked, that they’d lived in the same area in France when Amanda was really young? At the end he said he missed her, wondered how she was adjusting to her new school and asked if their parents were spoiling their baby girl rotten.
Amanda wrote that she was becoming a New York sophisticate. “ You may not recognize your baby sister when you see me again.” She didn’t let herself miss him.
She opened her project notes and jotted down some of what Hawk had told her about the different friendship groups at the school. She giggled as she remembered Hawk telling her about the time prissy Priya planned the group outing to Serendipity then barfed frozen hot chocolate on Sven Thorsson’s shoes.
The Sacred Circle shopped together, and it showed. When they had something new, like the brown burlap “Feed” bag that they all used as a book bag, others in the school, Amanda now included, soon followed. Amanda made a note of the irony. Here they were in a school that celebrated diversity, and all they all wanted was to fit in.
It was a good point, but there was
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