Read Little Chicago for Free Online Page B

one day. That’s the next step, Blacky. Faces.
    Anne Meadows’ hair always winds up looking like wood or clothes. Or it’s too orange cause I don’t mix the paints right.
    Once Miss Haze asked me what it was and I told her it was hay.
    Nice effort, she said. Keep trying, Blacky.
    Anne Meadows has a box for her pens and pencils and I admire her organizational skills.
    I also admire the fact that she wears Ralph Lauren shirts and smells like Clairol Herbal Essences shampoo.
    I have written Anne Meadows this note. I carry it around in my pocket every day. I often take it out to check and recheck it for spelling and grammar errors.
    I am happy to say that it is an error-free note.
    It says:
    Anne,
    May I have your phone number? I would enjoy discussing various subjects with you. I have time if you have time.
    Sincerely,
Blacky Brown
    I saw her looking at me once. She was making a face like she was hungry. I shared this with my good friend Eric Duggan and he said she probably was hungry and not to get too excited.
    I have been tempted a million times to drop this note in her box.
    It’s hard being a coward. It makes you wonder when you will grow out of it.
    Is it a body thing or a mind thing?
    Suddenly Mr. Prisby asks me if I can repeat what thoracic means.
    When I open my mouth I have to close it right away cause I have this feeling that my teeth are going to fall out.
    I don’t know, I say. What is it?
    He looks at me for a moment and shakes his head.
    Then he says, John, do you know?
    John Sellers says, It means of, relating to, located in, or involving the thorax.
    John Sellers has perfect hair and carries a Palm Pilot M500 in his pocket. I see him using it often and I’m sure he will go far in life.
    Did you catch that? Mr. Prisby asks me.
    Yes, I say.
    He says, You know where the thorax is, right, Blacky?
    The throat, I say.
    I don’t realize that I’m touching my throat when I say it.
    Please pay attention, Blacky, Mr. Prisby says to me.
    Sorry, I say.
    There’s a see-through fake human standing next to the chalkboard. You can see his organs. Mr. Prisby calls him Dave and often pretends to speak to him, and the girls on the left side of the room always laugh.
    He’ll say, What’s a herbivore, Dave?
    He’ll say, Hey, Dave, I forgot my lunch money, wanna lend me five bucks?
    Everyone laughs cause Mr. Prisby is a master of comedy and he has been known to give extra credit to the ones who laugh the most.
    When the passing period tone sounds, Mr. Prisby asks if he can have a word with me.
    Blacky, he says, may I have a word with you?
    One of the girls from the left side of the room makes a face like she is going to laugh.
    I approach Mr. Prisby’s desk.
    He wears glasses with black frames. The lenses are so thick they make his eyes look far away.
    He looks up at me with his hands in a triangle.
    Is everything okay, Blacky? he asks.
    Yes, I say.
    Are you sure?
    I’m sure, I say.
    You seem like you’re in outer space today.
    I’m not, I say.
    I’d really like to see you bring that C up to a B in here.
    I will, I say.
    I’d like that very much.
    Me too.
    And I’m sure your mother would.
    I nod.
    Then Mr. Prisby says, I think you have a lot of potential, Blacky.
    Oh, I say. Thanks.
    Teachers talk about potential like it’s a jar of pennies.
    He says, Your paper on the cats in New York City was quite thorough. I was very impressed with it.
    Thanks, I say again.
    I’d hate to see you lose that momentum.
    Me too, I say.
    My paper focused on three cats in New York City who jumped out of windows due to urban stress. One of them landed on a gate and was fatally punctured. His name was Socks and he was a Blue Russian.
    Mr. Prisby starts playing with a pencil.
    I just stand there like Dave the See-Through Fake Human. I wonder if he ever feels ashamed for not having any skin or clothes.
    Mr. Prisby says, How are you feeling, Blacky?
    I say, I’m