to cry. It’s strange, he says,

even saying this stuff out loud, you know. Like saying it makes it true.

That is truly messed up, Ollie says.

And me and Daniel say Yeah. Sure is.

I gotta be in the city a lot of weekends with him, Darry says.

They said that’s the agreement.

Okay, what we gotta do, Daniel says,

is look on the bright side.

You’ll have a second house, and we’ll be having sleepovers in the city!

We could just wake up and walk

to the Empire State Building.

We’ll still be the Fantastic Four, I say.

Nobody and nothing’s ever coming between our crew,

Ollie says.

We all high-five each other, echo Ollie.

Nobody and nothing.

Darry smiles and looks so relieved. And then

we all get quiet.

And keep on walking.

Snow Day

Ollie calls me early in the morning and tells me everybody

is meeting at the park for the snowball fight of the century.

You need to get there, he says

and I’m already pulling on my ski pants, my sweater,

looking everywhere in the house

for my lucky snow gloves—dark blue with reflector tape.

I don’t know why

but those gloves seem to have a superpower

when it comes to shaping snowballs and firing them

at the sucker who didn’t duck fast enough.

I find them in the basket under the bench by the door

beneath scarves and hats and a plastic bag of LEGOs

from when I was little and my mom had to carry some

if we went to a restaurant.

Then I’m yelling goodbye to my mom and dad,

who are both sitting in the kitchen

drinking coffee—my mom reading the paper,

my dad just staring out the window.

Be safe, my mom yells back.

Be safe, ZJ, my dad says.

Then he says it again.

Zachariah Jr.?

Yeah?

Be safe. Be safe, okay?

And when he turns my way, he’s not looking at me.

He’s looking at something else.

Something that’s not there,

something

nobody but him can see.

Dream

You ever had a dream that shook you awake?

And even then you still believed it was true?

Last night I dreamed I was a quarterback,

running behind my dad

and he was there on the field, pushing players out of my way.

I had the ball and was running like if I wanted to

I could lift off

and fly.

And in front of me, my dad just kept taking the hits,

keeping me safe

making sure I touched that ball down.

I woke up still hugging the ball, only my arms were

empty, pressing against my chest.

In the dream, my daddy’s helmet had cracked in two.

And I kept saying to him Be safe, Daddy. Daddy, be safe.

But he just kept on running.

Kept on tackling.

Kept on going.

For me.

For me.

For me.