I say It’s cool, put my backpack on my shoulders. Watch them all walk the way I’m not walking. Wonder if our

Fridays together are some used-to-be thing now.

I’m good, I say. But it’s mostly a whisper.

And mostly not true.

See y’all, I say.

They all say Later, ZJ.

Walk their way and I walk mine.

Home from school is only eight blocks. The blocks aren’t that long to walk. Walking them alone on a Friday isn’t the worst thing.

There’s worse stuff.

Like the rain coming down faster now

and no hood on my jacket.

Water pouring down the back of my neck.

Above me, a sky full of clouds.

Deep Water

My grandma calls on Saturday night,

asks me about school

and when we’re coming to visit her—

Soon, I hope. I hold the phone close

to my ear, her voice so clear and soft,

it makes me think of everything and everyone I love.

She lives near Nana B, my dad’s mom,

in a house that has windows all around it and a pool

that she only dips her feet in

because you know I don’t like deep water,

my grandmother always says.

But the pool isn’t deep. When I stand in it,

the water only comes up to my chest.

I like being close to pools, my grandma says,

not in them.

Our pool in Maplewood is deeper than Grandma’s,

goes way over my head at the deepest end

but the shallow end only comes to my knees.

How’s your daddy doing? my grandma asks.

Any better?

I shrug, then, remembering my grandma can’t see me,

say No.

He says his head hurts all the time, I tell her.

He says some days he can’t even see straight.

After a minute, I say He’s missing a lot of his games.

I know, my grandmother says.

Maybe it’s for the best, though. He doesn’t need to

be running on that field if he can’t see straight.

But then what? I ask her.

What’s he gonna do if he can’t play?

Outside, the night is so dark, it looks like a black wall.

When I was a little kid acting crazy, Grandma

would say You’re about to get yourself in deep water, ZJ.

Deep water was trouble.

Deep water was a spanking from her.

Deep water was something I never wanted to be in.

Feels like we’re in deep water, Grandma, I say.

I hear my grandmother sigh. She’s quiet for a while.

Look on the bright side, she finally says.

Now there’s time for him

to bring you out here to see both your grandmas!

I hold the phone even closer to my ear, wanting

to hug her through it. Say

I just want him all better, Grandma.

And even though I know I sound like a little kid,