The class groans. A corny joke to get on our good side? That’s a straight-up rookie move. This is almost too painful to watch.

Suddenly I appreciate how Mr. Blackmon is the opposite of the sub. Relaxed and sure of himself, he’s an old hand at the teaching game despite being much younger. Tapping me on the shoulder and nodding toward the substitute teacher, Mr. Blackmon quietly encourages me to pay attention. This is corny, I want to say, but I can almost hear him respond with It’s important to respect whoever the teacher is. He has a series of “structure isn’t your enemy” speeches.

A door across the hallway slams so hard it rattles the one to the music room. Shouting fills the hall, prompting all heads to turn toward the disturbance. I recognize the raised voice of my dude Nehemiah. I’m not the only one acting out due to frustration, though a solid draft of air would be enough to send him off wilding. A smile creeps across my face. The timing couldn’t be have been more perfect if we had planned it.

Mr. Blackmon leans over to me. “I have to go see about that.”

“You know it’s just Nehemiah popping off.” I keep my attention on the sub, not daring Mr. Blackmon to read anything on my face.

“I’ll just be gone a minute. Behave.” He overpronounces each syllable of behave like it was a foreign word to me.

“I promise, Mr. Blackmon, I’ll just sit here.” A ring of innocence fills my voice so thick it comes out almost singsongy. I flash two fingers in a peace sign. “Deuces.”

The door barely closes behind Mr. Blackmon before I turn my attention back to the class. I run my tongue over my lips. People are easy marks for me. Underneath their fancy suits or school uniforms, they are all the same. Everyone has their weak spots. You just have to know how to push them.

Everyone has a gift. My gift is words. I know how to make up a story.

I duck down in my seat and bring my sheet music up to my face. I pretend to study it, but actually it makes for a good shield. With the sub unable to see my lips move, I turn to my left. “Hey, my guy.”

“What’s up?” Jaron Andemichael wears the same red short-sleeved polo shirt and navy blue pants the other boys do. However, Jaron hit a growth spurt after his mother bought his school clothes for the year. His shirt barely covers his belly, riding up whenever he moves. He’s a big dude and usually people assume he has a temper. Don’t get me wrong, my dude could throw with the best of them when riled up, but most people don’t see him. He rarely meets anyone’s eyes for fear of them locking on to him and picking on him about his weight. And the more he gets picked on, the more he eats, so he walks the halls like a big, nervous squirrel.