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Appropriate response. Inappropriate response. I apply that to my rules. If you come out inappropriate, I come back, appropriate. One takes care of the other.
    If anyone needs Social Interaction it’s those girls from last year. Do they still go here? Anyway, they should betaking notes on how to get along. They came out inappropriate, not me. They shouldn’t have been in my face. They were sophomores and I just got here. They should have had better things to do than to be talking about my jersey, my sneakers. Oh, right. I’m supposed to stand there like a big dumb bitch and pretend I don’t hear them speak my name? I’m supposed to walk by like it’s all right for them to laugh at me? I’m supposed to be their joke? Their girlie gossip of the day? Well, they opened their mouths and I responded. Corrected them. Simple as that. But when the dust cleared, no one saw three against one. They just saw the one still standing and three down.
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    â€œCome on, ’Nique. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Fenster is like Coach blowing the whistle during laps. Let’s go. Get those knees up.
    I’m all right with Fenster and she’s all right with me. She gave me an 80 last term. She’s not trying to hold me back. Keep me sidelined. She knows I need those points.
    After the suspension last year, they sent me to her and she worked out the plea bargain: “Dominique has skills on the court. A team sport will help her interact socially and learn to cooperate with others.” That’s also on the poster. Cooperation.
    AP Shelton said two conditions: “Social Interaction and keep a clean nose for the next three years.”
    Coach said, “Keep your grades up, do what I tell you, and you’ll be starting at guard by junior year.”
    I go along with it. I do my time. As long as I can be on the team. Get some minutes on the court. So two days a week, I got SI. Freshman, sophomore, junior, senior, SI. Rules for Social Interaction. Surrounded by kids with real problems, real stories about their real problems. Sick-ass stories. After each one, Fenster asks, “What did you learn?” and “How is this different from the last time?” Me? I don’t have no stories. So don’t ask me what I learned. But I show up. I’m here. I hold up my end of the deal.
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    The Do Now is to come up with three priorities.
    â€œNot everything is a level-one priority,” Fenster says.
    That’s what we’re learning. How to prioritize, figure out what’s important. How to stack them in order of importance.
    I got my three and I arrange them in order. What I’ll say is most important and what I’ll say is least important. So, when Fenster asks me why aren’t I writing, I point to my head and say, “It’s up here.”
    â€œOkay, ’Nique. Let’s hear them.” Fenster tests mebecause she doubts me. That’s her thing. I’ve been around. I’m wise to the game.
    That’s cool. I’m ready. I say, “Get back my minutes on the court.” That’s number one. Level one.
    She nods and holds up one finger.
    â€œUp my grades.” Yeah. I’m gonna squeeze that little brown mouse when I get up to the third floor.
    She nods, two fingers. Big smile. I’m getting a “plus” in the book of pluses and minuses. That’s how she scores us. Too many minuses and we get a one-on-one. The intervention.
    â€œImprove my D” is the last one I give her. The fake-out. She should know better but holds up a third finger. She should know improving my defense is like breathing or eating. Everyday stuff. See, the real priority is as important as the first. Dealing with the third priority last doesn’t make it a level-three priority. It’s just the order that it will go down in, at 2:45. It’s a top priority. A personal priority. It’s not that I want to respond to it, I have