about the only thing we really disagree about. String likes her. Idon’t get it. He’s friends with both of us.
I used to get mad at him for even talking to her. Made no difference. String will turn double-Dutch rope for the girls. Then he’ll run over and hit a homer with the boys. He even sits with Rashetta Lewis—with her nose running all the time. Nasty. Gag!
String’s okay like that. I understand. But I can’t hang with Destinee Tate.
“You should get to know her,” String is always saying.
“I know enough,” is always my answer.
Ms. Rollins comes into the room.
The Star-Spangled Banner
crackles over the intercom. We stand. We sing. We say
The Pledge of Allegiance.
That reminds me of Michael Keller. He made a big mistake last year. He started off the Pledge with the preamble to theConstitution. “We the people …”
The girls aine never forgot it. They still call him We-the-People and fall out laughing. Poor Michael. I don’t usually laugh at one of the boys in front of the girls, but that was funny.
Somebody hits my arm. It’s Destinee. “We’re having a meeting of the class officers at lunch,” she whispers from two seats back. “Be there.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Let’s listen!” Ms. Rollins claps her hands.
“It was Miami,” says Destinee.
Ferret-nose teacher’s pet! Always got to be first. The best. The winner! Even if she has to cheat!
That’s how Destinee Tate got to be class president. She cheated.
Here’s what happened. There are fifteen girls and twelve boys in 3T. Destinee tells the girls to vote for her. She promises to make sure the girls get what they want!
There’s another way to divide 3T. We’ve got sixteen kids of color. And eleven white kids. I could have asked all the black kids to vote for me simply because I’m black.
But I chose to run straight up. I told everybody to go with the best. That went over like two dead flies. I lost big time!
Well, not really. I’m the vice-president. Being vice-president is like beige wallpaper. Who notices? Who cares?
I wasn’t the only boy to lose to a girl either. Destinee helped Amika take out Horace as class secretary. Lisa nudged David out of the treasurer’s seat.
The only boy who got everybody’s votewas String. He’s the sergeant at arms. Destinee, Amika, and Lisa are the majority. So they get everything their way.
If you say anything, they get all up in yo’ face—bad breath, yellow teeth, and all. And whatever you do, don’t make a mistake in front of the girls. They’ll never, ever let you forget it. Just like poor We-the-People Michael Keller.
8:41 A.M.
Some fifth grader is reading the menu over the intercom. “For lunch, you will have a choice between a slice of vegetarian pizza. Or a sausage pizza. Buttered corn. Cinnamon applesauce. And chocolate pudding for dessert.”
Everybody groans and starts to gag. Slop is slop—no matter what you call it.
I’m quiet. But I don’t listen. I look at the bulletin board. There’s a picture of Destinee right after she won the spelling bee. I missed the word
unanimous.
Too many n’s.
It’s not about losing the spelling bee. It’s about all that studying, for what? To stand there trying to look cool while Destinee walked off with four tickets to a Cardinals baseball game. Destinee wouldn’t know a baseball if it fell in her Cheerios.
The announcements end with the student reader giving the word for the day—
“compromise.”
The intercom crackles. It sputters and shuts off. And as always, every girl’s hand shoots into the air. “Me, me, me, me,” they whine.
We boys just sit with our arms folded. Waving our hands in the teacher’s face is not cool.
Ms. Rollins looks around. “Destinee. You are our spelling bee champion this year. Spell the word for the day.”
Man! I slide down in my seat. I don’t want to hear all-a that.
Destinee bounces to her feet. I don’t look at her. “That’s an easy one,” she says. She calls out the
I used to get mad at him for even talking to her. Made no difference. String will turn double-Dutch rope for the girls. Then he’ll run over and hit a homer with the boys. He even sits with Rashetta Lewis—with her nose running all the time. Nasty. Gag!
String’s okay like that. I understand. But I can’t hang with Destinee Tate.
“You should get to know her,” String is always saying.
“I know enough,” is always my answer.
Ms. Rollins comes into the room.
The Star-Spangled Banner
crackles over the intercom. We stand. We sing. We say
The Pledge of Allegiance.
That reminds me of Michael Keller. He made a big mistake last year. He started off the Pledge with the preamble to theConstitution. “We the people …”
The girls aine never forgot it. They still call him We-the-People and fall out laughing. Poor Michael. I don’t usually laugh at one of the boys in front of the girls, but that was funny.
Somebody hits my arm. It’s Destinee. “We’re having a meeting of the class officers at lunch,” she whispers from two seats back. “Be there.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Let’s listen!” Ms. Rollins claps her hands.
“It was Miami,” says Destinee.
Ferret-nose teacher’s pet! Always got to be first. The best. The winner! Even if she has to cheat!
That’s how Destinee Tate got to be class president. She cheated.
Here’s what happened. There are fifteen girls and twelve boys in 3T. Destinee tells the girls to vote for her. She promises to make sure the girls get what they want!
There’s another way to divide 3T. We’ve got sixteen kids of color. And eleven white kids. I could have asked all the black kids to vote for me simply because I’m black.
But I chose to run straight up. I told everybody to go with the best. That went over like two dead flies. I lost big time!
Well, not really. I’m the vice-president. Being vice-president is like beige wallpaper. Who notices? Who cares?
I wasn’t the only boy to lose to a girl either. Destinee helped Amika take out Horace as class secretary. Lisa nudged David out of the treasurer’s seat.
The only boy who got everybody’s votewas String. He’s the sergeant at arms. Destinee, Amika, and Lisa are the majority. So they get everything their way.
If you say anything, they get all up in yo’ face—bad breath, yellow teeth, and all. And whatever you do, don’t make a mistake in front of the girls. They’ll never, ever let you forget it. Just like poor We-the-People Michael Keller.
8:41 A.M.
Some fifth grader is reading the menu over the intercom. “For lunch, you will have a choice between a slice of vegetarian pizza. Or a sausage pizza. Buttered corn. Cinnamon applesauce. And chocolate pudding for dessert.”
Everybody groans and starts to gag. Slop is slop—no matter what you call it.
I’m quiet. But I don’t listen. I look at the bulletin board. There’s a picture of Destinee right after she won the spelling bee. I missed the word
unanimous.
Too many n’s.
It’s not about losing the spelling bee. It’s about all that studying, for what? To stand there trying to look cool while Destinee walked off with four tickets to a Cardinals baseball game. Destinee wouldn’t know a baseball if it fell in her Cheerios.
The announcements end with the student reader giving the word for the day—
“compromise.”
The intercom crackles. It sputters and shuts off. And as always, every girl’s hand shoots into the air. “Me, me, me, me,” they whine.
We boys just sit with our arms folded. Waving our hands in the teacher’s face is not cool.
Ms. Rollins looks around. “Destinee. You are our spelling bee champion this year. Spell the word for the day.”
Man! I slide down in my seat. I don’t want to hear all-a that.
Destinee bounces to her feet. I don’t look at her. “That’s an easy one,” she says. She calls out the
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