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wear? One thing I do got is clothes, thanks to my muver's charge at Lane Bryant 'n man sell hot shit. Come to building go from door to door, I got your size he call out in hallway I got your size. I got to get dress. I wear my pink stretch pants? I think so, wif my black pesint blouse. I go splash some water on my ass, which mean I wash serious between my legs and underarm. I don't smell like my muver. I don't. I ain' got no money for lunch or McDonald's for breakfast. I take piece of ham out frigidare, wrap it in aluminum foil, I'll eat it walking down Lenox, not as good as Egg McMuf-fin but beat nuffin'. I double back to my room. On top my dresser is notebook. Ol' Cornrows say bring self, pencil, and notebook. I got self, pencil, and notebook.
    Can I get a witness! I'm outta here!
    I always did like school, jus' seem school never did like me. Kinnergarden and first grade I don't talk, they laff at that. Second grade my cherry busted. I don't want to think that now. I look across the street at McDonald's but I ain't got no money so I unwrap ham and take a bite. I'm gonna ask Mama for some money when she get her check, plus the school gonna give me a stipend, thas money for goin' to school. Secon'

    grade they laffes at HOW I talk. So I stop talking.
    What for? Secon' thas when the "I'mma joke"
    start. When I go sit down boyz make fart sounds wif they mouf like it's me fartin'. When I git up they snort snort hog grunt sounds. So I jus' stop getting up. What for? Thas when I start to pee on myself. I just sit there, it's like I paralyze or some shit. I don't move. I can't move. Secon' grade teacher HATE me. Oh that woman hate me. I look at myself in the window of the fried chicken joint between 127th and 126th. I look good in my pink stretch pants. Woman at Lane Bryant on one-two-five say no reason big girls can't wear the latest, so I wear it. But boyz still laff me, what could I wear that boyz don't laff? Secon'
    grade is when I just start to sit there. All day.
    Other kids run all around. Me, Claireece P.
    Jones, come in 8:55 a.m., sit down, don't move till the bell ring to go home. I wet myself. Don't know why I don't get up, but I don't. I jus' sit there and pee. Teacher ack all care at first, then scream, then get Principal. Principal call Mama and who else I don't remember. Finally Principal say, Let it be. Be glad thas all the trouble she give you. Focus on the ones who can learn, Principal say to teacher. What that mean? Is she one of the ones who can't?

    My head hurt. I gotta eat something. It's 8:45
    a.m. I gotta be at school at 9 a.m. Ham gone. I ain't got no money. I turn back to chicken place.
    Walk in cool tell lady, Give me a basket Chicken look like last night's but people in there buying it oP or not. Lady ax, Fries? I say, Potato salad.
    Potato salad in the refrigerator in the back. I know that. Lady turn roun' to go in back, I grab chicken and roll, turn, run out, and cut down one-two-six stuffing chicken in my mouth. "Scarf Big Mama!'' this from crack addict standing in front abandoned building. I don't even turn my head—
    crack addicts is disgusting*. Give race a bad name, lost in the hells of norf america crack addicts is.
    I look at watch, 8:57 a.m.! But shit I'm almost there! Coming around the corner of 126th onto Adam Clayton Powell Jr Blvd. I throws the chicken bones into the trash can on the corner, wipe the grease off my mouth with the roll then stuff rest of roll in my mouf, run across 125th, and I'm there! I'm in the elevator moving up when I realize I left my notebook and pencil in the chicken place! Goddam! And it's 9:05 a.m.
    not 9:00 a.m. Oh well teacher nigger too. Don't care if she teacher, don't no niggers start on time. The elevator goes Bing! I step out. My class last door on left. My teacher Miz Rain.

    I'm walking across the lobby room real real slow.
    Full of chicken, bread; usually that make me not want to cry remember, but I feel like crying now.
    My head is like the swimming pool