Font Size
Line Height

Page 9 of I Can’t Even Think Straight

Thursday: The Feds—Lunchtime—Outside School

Only sixth-formers

are allowed out at lunchtime,

but Matt wanted to go

along with The Boys,

and I agreed because

I’m trying to figure out

if I’m into Kwesi,

and if Kwesi is into me.

On our way back to school

from the local shops,

I see two police officers approaching us.

“Feds,” whispers Abdi.

“Don’t be bait,” says Kwesi.

I’m tucked in the middle of the group.

The Boys are my bodyguards:

Nathan and Kojo are up front,

Matt and Kwesi are either side of me.

Abdi and Sam are at the back.

“Are you okay there?”

The white police officer speaks

directly to me somehow,

as if ignoring Nathan and Kojo.

“Me?” I ask, confused.

“Are these boys bothering you?”

I’m stunned to silence.

I’m the bait one.

This is happening because of me.

Nathan jumps to conclusions:

“You see one mixed-race boy

and six Black boys, and you think

the six of us are mugging him?”

The South Asian officer seems

familiar with Nathan:

“Firstly, this is not about race,

so you can get that particular chip

off your shoulder right now.

Secondly, this is not the first time

we’ve caught you out of school

when you’re not supposed to be.

I’m pretty sure seven of you

aren’t coming from the dentist.

That was your excuse last time,

wasn’t it, Nathan Anderson?”

Nathan looks at the ground.

“Allow us, man,” says Sam.

“We’re on our way back to school.”

“One of you can go back to school

and bring a teacher out here,” says the white officer.

“The rest of you will wait with us.”

The South Asian officer turns to his colleague,

perhaps with a stern or pleading look

because the white officer takes a step back.

The Asian officer turns to me.

He pulls out his notepad and pen.

“You. What’s your name, please?”

I search for my voice and find it:

“Malachi,” I say, trying not to cry.

He asks for my surname

and date of birth,

which I tell him.

He sends me back to school,

while he takes names and dates of birth

from the rest of the group:

a group I stand out from like a sore thumb.

As I start on my way, I hear Nathan say,

“Why are you asking for my name, bro?

You just said it thirty seconds ago.”

“I’m not your ‘bro,’” says the South Asian officer.

“Ain’t that the truth,” says Sam.

Ad If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.