Oh, probably because our teacher’s staring at me and calling my name over and over. Damn. How long had I spaced?

“Jamal, what do you think? Was Beowulf’s life a tragedy?”

Okay, apparently long enough to not know we’d already started discussing our reading assignment.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

She motions for me to sit up straight, which I reluctantly do. Ugh, is there anything more annoying than a Try-Hard Teacher?

“There’s no wrong or right. I just want your opinion.”

“Honestly?” I shake my head. “I feel like the whole thing’s a tragedy.”

Her face lights up. “How so?”

I laugh. “Tell me you weren’t disappointed when you found out dude’s not an actual wolf.”

The class cracks up. The kid in front of me swivels for a fist bump.

Ms. Taylor nods, smiling. “Okay, okay. But do you think Beowulf would’ve been more or less heroic had he been an actual wolf?”

“I mean, he’s fighting all these monsters but he’s just a regular dude. How’s that fair?”

“True. Except he’s successful, right? In the end? He slays the dragon.”

“But he dies doing it.”

“So, what’s one message you take from his life?”

And I know what she’s doing. She’s engaging me. Proving to me that I can do this if I want. If I try. But I lob her question back. “What do you see?”

She studies my face. “Okay, I’ll play. What do I see? Hmm. How about there’s no greater honor than fighting for others, even at great personal sacrifice?”

I shake my head. “No offense, but that sounds stupid.”

A few kids oooooooooh.

“Nah, for real. He was a hero, right, but when he needed his people the most, everyone except Wiglaf abandoned him. All that time he was loyal, kept his word. So, where were they when he needed them, huh? They were back at the crib watching some bullshit on Netflix.”

More laughs.

“So, you shouldn’t do anything for anyone, Jamal?” Ms. Taylor challenges me with a smile. “You should just keep to yourself? You’d rather live longer and die alone than die sooner alongside your friend, for what you believe in?”

“This ain’t about me.” I slide down in my chair.

She folds her arms. “No, you’re right, Jamal. It’s not. But I’m interested in what you think. In what we all think.”

I don’t say a word. She stands there, in my aisle, our eyes locked.

And okay, if this is what she wants, fine. “I’m saying Beowulf played himself. Those dudes didn’t leave him when he fought the dragon. They were never with him. He was always alone. And in the end, he got the dragon, and the dragon got him.”

I glance over at Q, to see if he’s following, but nah.

He’s smiling at his phone.