Helping my teacher clean the chalkboards makes me feel happy. My hands are thoroughly covered with fine, white powder by the time I finish. I clap them together, watching some of the flecks dance out into space. “That’s perfect, Noah,” Mrs. Cotman says with a quick smile. Her fine dark skin and intricately braided hair fascinate me now as much as the day I started fourth grade. I smile up at her shyly. “You may go,” she says. “I’ll see you on Monday.” My smile fades as I walk out the door. Fourth grade is my haven, a place of refuge from the emptiness that is my home. At least the school playground is within walking distance of our house. Maybe there will be other kids here tomorrow. I can hope at least. My older sister, Greta, is staying over with a friend this weekend and it leaves me at home mostly alone; Mom works twelve-hour shifts at the hospital. I’m walking down the school steps when something bright lights up out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head quickly and see a faint
Helping my teacher clean the chalkboards makes me feel happy. My hands are thoroughly covered with fine, white powder by the time I finish. I clap them together, watching some of the flecks dance out into space. “That’s perfect, Noah,” Mrs. Cotman says with a quick smile. Her fine dark skin and intricately braided hair fascinate me now as much as the day I started fourth grade. I smile up at her shyly. “You may go,” she says. “I’ll see you on Monday.” My smile fades as I walk out the door. Fourth grade is my haven, a place of refuge from the emptiness that is my home. At least the school playground is within walking distance of our house. Maybe there will be other kids here tomorrow. I can hope at least. My older sister, Greta, is staying over with a friend this weekend and it leaves me at home mostly alone; Mom works twelve-hour shifts at the hospital. I’m walking down the school steps when something bright lights up out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head quickly and see a faint