doesn’t take long to say, but it took me a long time to write. But now it’s all worth it.
There is silence until Mr. Daniels motions to everyone to applaud. Albert and Keisha clap loudest. Mr. Daniels motions again and the applause gets louder. Oliver slaps his desk until Mr. Daniels’s pulling on his ear calms him down.
Looking out over the class, I remember some of the other poems I heard people working on. Really good poems.
And then the whole thing hits me. I finally get it.
Mr. Daniels holds out a certificate with fancy letters and swirls around the edges. He also holds a coupon for a free ice cream in the cafeteria, and I think how happy Albert would be if I gave that to him.
But I can’t reach out and take them. I look up into his face. He smiles and then he winks. I look out over my classmates, who have stopped clapping. Shay has pressed her mouth into a flat line. Most glance at each other with knowing looks. They all know but figure I don’t.
This isn’t a poetry award.
This is a pity award.
I look up at Mr. Daniels, who gives me a serious nod, as if to say,
Go ahead and take it. They don’t know.
Getting an award for not being smart enough to deserve it is the worst feeling I’ve ever felt. Like getting this certificate is going to make me pat myself on the back and, somehow, transform into a different person. I swear that I’ll never accept an award that I don’t deserve.
Never.
Keisha calls my name as I run from the room.
CHAPTER 26
S t a l l i n g
I run into the bathroom and hide in the stall at the end. I stand, pressing myself up against the wall. Embarrassed and humiliated and never wanting to go back.
The door opens and someone comes in.
“You okay?” Keisha asks.
“
No.
I’m
not.
”
“You won an award. Who in the world runs from an award? I’d think you’d be happy.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t win for
real.
”
“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Of course you did. I was there.”
“No. Trust me. I didn’t. He just . . . He’s just trying to be nice.”
“Why don’t you come out of there?”
“You don’t understand. Just go away.”
“You’re right, Ally. I don’t understand. I don’t know why you’re mad about an award.”
I feel so much worse than just mad. “Look,” I say. “When you get on your bike, don’t you expect it to hold you up? Not fall apart when you pedal?”
“Yeah. So what?”
“Imagine if every single time you got on your bike, you had to worry that the wheels would come off. And every time you ride, they do. But you still have to ride. Every day. And then you have to watch everyone watch you as the bike goes to pieces underneath you. With everyone thinking that it’s your fault and you’re the worst bike rider in the world.”
“Why in the world are you talking about bikes and wheels coming off?”
“My brain,” I say, leaning my forehead against the cold wall. “My brain will never do what I want it to do.”
“C’mon. It’s not like your brain is broken. So you’re not the best speller. So what? Your brain seems fine to me.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to be different than everyone else.”
“
Wait.
Have you noticed how different I look than everyone else in our class?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Look, you’re my friend. The best friend I have here. If you want to say things like that and make it hard to be your friend, then . . . well, I’ll just wait for you to come to your senses.”
Oh.
“You’re talking like a fool saying I don’t understand what it’s like to be different. But the thing is . . . I’m only different to the people who see with the wrong eyes. And I don’t care what people like that think.”
I laugh a little. “Albert says that the problem is that white people don’t have enough melanin. He says that’s the thing that makes human skin darker.”
“Well, that boy is bonkers, but he is a smart one.” She sounds happy. “Now,
There is silence until Mr. Daniels motions to everyone to applaud. Albert and Keisha clap loudest. Mr. Daniels motions again and the applause gets louder. Oliver slaps his desk until Mr. Daniels’s pulling on his ear calms him down.
Looking out over the class, I remember some of the other poems I heard people working on. Really good poems.
And then the whole thing hits me. I finally get it.
Mr. Daniels holds out a certificate with fancy letters and swirls around the edges. He also holds a coupon for a free ice cream in the cafeteria, and I think how happy Albert would be if I gave that to him.
But I can’t reach out and take them. I look up into his face. He smiles and then he winks. I look out over my classmates, who have stopped clapping. Shay has pressed her mouth into a flat line. Most glance at each other with knowing looks. They all know but figure I don’t.
This isn’t a poetry award.
This is a pity award.
I look up at Mr. Daniels, who gives me a serious nod, as if to say,
Go ahead and take it. They don’t know.
Getting an award for not being smart enough to deserve it is the worst feeling I’ve ever felt. Like getting this certificate is going to make me pat myself on the back and, somehow, transform into a different person. I swear that I’ll never accept an award that I don’t deserve.
Never.
Keisha calls my name as I run from the room.
CHAPTER 26
S t a l l i n g
I run into the bathroom and hide in the stall at the end. I stand, pressing myself up against the wall. Embarrassed and humiliated and never wanting to go back.
The door opens and someone comes in.
“You okay?” Keisha asks.
“
No.
I’m
not.
”
“You won an award. Who in the world runs from an award? I’d think you’d be happy.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t win for
real.
”
“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Of course you did. I was there.”
“No. Trust me. I didn’t. He just . . . He’s just trying to be nice.”
“Why don’t you come out of there?”
“You don’t understand. Just go away.”
“You’re right, Ally. I don’t understand. I don’t know why you’re mad about an award.”
I feel so much worse than just mad. “Look,” I say. “When you get on your bike, don’t you expect it to hold you up? Not fall apart when you pedal?”
“Yeah. So what?”
“Imagine if every single time you got on your bike, you had to worry that the wheels would come off. And every time you ride, they do. But you still have to ride. Every day. And then you have to watch everyone watch you as the bike goes to pieces underneath you. With everyone thinking that it’s your fault and you’re the worst bike rider in the world.”
“Why in the world are you talking about bikes and wheels coming off?”
“My brain,” I say, leaning my forehead against the cold wall. “My brain will never do what I want it to do.”
“C’mon. It’s not like your brain is broken. So you’re not the best speller. So what? Your brain seems fine to me.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to be different than everyone else.”
“
Wait.
Have you noticed how different I look than everyone else in our class?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Look, you’re my friend. The best friend I have here. If you want to say things like that and make it hard to be your friend, then . . . well, I’ll just wait for you to come to your senses.”
Oh.
“You’re talking like a fool saying I don’t understand what it’s like to be different. But the thing is . . . I’m only different to the people who see with the wrong eyes. And I don’t care what people like that think.”
I laugh a little. “Albert says that the problem is that white people don’t have enough melanin. He says that’s the thing that makes human skin darker.”
“Well, that boy is bonkers, but he is a smart one.” She sounds happy. “Now,
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