Again

Sir, can you step outside?

Then

I’m from the FBI

I need to ask you some questions.

Although my father’s

eyebrows change

from delicate inverted Vs

into straight lines,

he asks

Why don’t you come in?

The man whose shoulders

are as wide as a fridge—

his eyebrows become inverted Vs,

Sir, are you sure?

If I step inside,

and I see anything,

anything,

I can arrest you.

My father’s answer

is easy:

I have nothing to hide.

My mother’s voice

is gentle:

Would you like some tea?

Don’t they know yet?

You don’t have to be nice

to everyone in this country.

Facts

In Peachtree City,

it is sometimes colder in February

than in December.

It rains often.

Thunder.

Lightning.

Sometimes when it rains

hard enough in Peachtree City,

the electricity goes.

Just like in Pakistan.

In the darkness,

I am reminded of

home.

But today, it is rainy

and cold

so I cannot eat outside

with Stahr,

but Stahr is not here

because she is

getting the metal

on her teeth

tightened.

Inside the cafeteria,

a blur of faces,

I don’t know

where to sit.

My insides feel

tight.

No one else

except Stahr

has said those 8 words to me

Do you want to eat lunch with me?

I square-root numbers inside my head

100 . . . 10

81 . . . 9

64 . . . 8

49 . . . 7

36 . . .

to calm myself.

I am only at 36 when . . .

A whispery voice.

Where are your friends today?

Cal is in front of me.

Probably no one

wants to sit with you

or your people

anymore.

His face is a chewed-up sandwich.

My insides become ice

my cheeks become fire

I am too brown

to become red.

I open my mouth.

But this time—

the words are stuck

inside me.

Y’all need to find a seat . . .

Ms. White is on lunch duty

walking with purpose.

Cal smirks,

Good luck with that . . .

Ms. White turns.

I scuttle out of the cafeteria,

plan to go back to the triangle space

underneath the stairwell

to eat my lunch

alone

again.

A tap on my shoulder

I look up

Up

Up

at a tall girl

I saw what happened.

She pushes her braids

behind her ears

a warm smile

brown sugar skin.

I’m Destiny.

You can eat with us . . .

I follow her.

Knots loosen

from my tongue.

Thanks . . .

Inside the cafeteria

the lights are too bright

But Destiny

walks right by Cal

too close.

You’d better leave her alone . . .

She is much taller

than Cal,

much wider too,

she holds her breath in,

looks down at Cal,

with scowling eyes.

Cal’s face becomes

sour,

pinched.

He looks at me

hard

then walks away.

Art Class

Blocks of paper

creamy white,

charcoals smoky,

fat pastels,

welcome me on

Tuesdays and Thursdays.

In math there’s only one correct answer