Sing Today Die Tomorrow

Chapter Eight

"Why do you want me to read it so bad?" asked Ryan, watching for Mr. Bailey.

"Guys need to know this stuff," said Chase.

"Fine. Give me it."

Chase pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from his pocket. His messy handwriting slanted downward. Ryan read it:

Him

Porcelain skin like a model - oh - oh

He doesn't like talking - so - so

But he keeps me waiting - no - no

Red, red, red

His hair looks real good red

And his eyes are blue - pretty blue

A girl like me can touch too

I'm feeling free when he sees me

Get him alone, yeah, alone

It's too bad that he's sad

He doesn't know

What I know

Hush, hush, hush

Blush, blush, blush

"It's good," said Ryan, handing Chase the paper. He swallowed his excitement.

Troy walked in and grabbed it. "You read Shantel's poem? You're so nosey, Ryan."

"You took it," snapped Ryan.

Mr. Bailey walked into class.

"It's no big deal, Troy," said Chase.

"You need to know if she likes you before you can ask her out?" said Troy crossly.

Shantel rushed into class and sat down.

"She just walked in," said Ryan.

"Great. Shantel, Ryan wants to ask you something," said Troy, crushing the poem into his pocket. Shantel stared at Ryan curiously.

"Troy," said Mr. Bailey. "Please, sit down."

"Ryan has something to say," said Troy, going to his chair.

"What is it exactly, Troy? And this better be good."

"He knows," said Troy.

"It's nothing, Mr. Bailey," said Ryan.

"Ryan, this is the third time you and someone else has disrupted my class. I guess you think you don't need to pay attention in Algebra because it's so easy for you."

"It's not," said Ryan nervously.

"Hmm-mm, sure," said Mr. Bailey peevishly. "Since Troy's not very good at Algebra or at paying attention, he can solve the first problem on the board."

Troy got out of his seat disappointedly.

At that moment, Ryan saw a vision in color in his mind of detention hall filled with rows of desks and he sat at one behind Troy.

He wrote the problem in his notebook and solved it in a few seconds. Chase whispered something, but he ignored him.

---

At a table in the school cafeteria, Ryan talked about Shantel's poem, chewing raisins out of a tiny box. He gave Sloan his cold, pork sandwich on a soft roll.

"That poem sounds hot," said Jamal.

"Bro, you must be in love," said Pablo. "You can't eat."

"I don't feel like it," said Ryan.