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— she tell me she wanna do more than open a restaurant.
    I know. Living in France, being a illustrator, marrying a musician is all part of her plan, too. But this weekend we cooking. “So. You coming or what?”
    She trying not to smile. “Yeah. When we get our restaurant, I don’t want you talking about secret ingredients. I need to know everything that go in everything.”
    Mr. E. looking at his watch. “This ain’t just a test, folks.” He walking the aisles. Patting Jaxxon’s back. Telling him to sit up. “It’s a competition. Remember.” He stop in front of me. “Like basketball. Wrestling.” He give a thumbs-up to A’Destiny. “That person next to you, don’t let ’em beat you.”
    December, at the sharpener, finishes his words. The ones he say all the time. “Outthink ’em. Outwork ’em. Outperform ’em.” She add her own spice to it. “Kill ’em if you need to.”
    â€œIgnore that last part.” Belching, Mr. E. ask Jaxxon to take off his hat. “Gas.” He’s on a new diet, he saying. “Lettuce and more lettuce.” Patting Jaxxon on the shoulder, he say for him to sleep at home sometimes.
    We have to show all our work in Mr. E’s class. If you only give the answer, you lose points, he reminds us.
    The first two problems; easy. I write out the steps. Put down the answers. Pat myself on the back. The third problem is hard. Confusing. Just to figure out what it say, I gotta read it twice. It’s a word problem. Hate those. I skip to the bottom of the page. Sometimes that’s what you need to do. Skip around. But I end up back at the beginning. Scratching my head.
    Looking around, all I see are heads down. Fingers moving. December smiling. Julie blowing bubble gum. They always get high marks.
    Think. Remember. Peaches and me went over this problem last night. I almost raise my hand for help. But nobody else is asking him for nothing. Putting down my pencil, turning off the calculator, I give up.
    Thinking about wrestling. The reporter at my match saying how aggressive I am on the mat. I feel better.
    â€œThree minutes, folks.”
    Peaches kicks my chair leg, pointing for me to get busy.
    I’m writing down anything now. Don’t leave blanks. Guess. You might be right. That’s what she told me yesterday.
    Mr. E. pulling at his suspenders. “Pencils down.”
    Peaches pushes buttons on her calculator faster than a cashier on the first day of the month.
    Leaving class. Peaches pulls out her algebra book, checking her answers.
    Walking behind her, my book half closed so she don’t see, I write:
    Firstly I am agressive
    I am agressive, firstly
    I am
    Autumn Knight
    Math and reading is agressive opponents to me.

R aven sashays into the library. Roberto pokes me. “She’s the kind of girl I want.” Leaning over the second floor railing, he gawks and waves.
    Her hand, like a fan, waves back. Her silver bangles jingle like tiny bells. I am surprised when she smiles my way.
    â€œLet me see your assignment, Roberto.”
    He never takes his eyes off her. “Please, can’t I look for one more minute?”
    Roberto is a seventh grader. He has potential, I’ve decided. I will give him all the help he needs to succeed. But he has to want this for himself. I’ve told him several times, “To accomplish your goals, you cannot be distracted by the people and things around you.”
    Raven takes a seat on the purple couch. Chatting with friends, she looks up at me periodically.
    I have avoided her, ever since our date two weeks ago. Last night she came to the wrestling room. I did my best to ignore her there as well. I am certain that she thinks I am rude. Or immature. But I sum up people very quickly. Why spend time with those who aren’t right for you?
    â€œLet’s get started. Roberto. Take out your paper.”
    The inside of his