The Need To Know ✔️

two

Artist Sincere DuBois

Staring blankly from across the dinner table, I watched Anthony sniffle as tears ran down his face and snot ran from his nose to his top lip.

"What's wrong wit him?" My granny asked, making me look her way as she walked into the kitchen.

I shrugged. "Ion- Ion know." I looked down at my phone for a notification I was waiting for.

Her brows furrowed as she stepped into the kitchen behind my lil brother. "Anthony baby," she cooed. "What's wrong?"

He put his elbows on the table, sniffling like he was finna suck his bottom lip up. "I don't know how to do the problem!" He whined.

Running his back, my granny looked at me with her eyes squinted, like she wanted to cuss me out. Like it was my fault my brother was emotional.

"I thought 'chu was 'posed to be helpin' him." She said.

"Granny, it's first grade homework," I said. "It ain't that hard."

"He in first grade, so its gone be hard to him." She shot back.

I scratched the back of my head in response, and she gave me another look before walking off.

"Aye," I tapped him and he looked up at me. "Read the question again."

He let out a breath, looking down at the worksheet. "Alissa had 7 apples, 5 were rotten, how many good apples does Alissa have?" He recited.

"So," I looked at him. "How many do she have?"

"Um.." he paused. "11."

My eyes almost bucked out my damn face. "Anthony," I breathed. "I'm bout to slap the fuck out 'chu."

"Artist!" Granny exclaimed.

I shot a look her way. "So you ain't hear that dumb a- that answer he just let come from his mouth?"

"He just want your help."

I shook my head. "He want me to give him the answer, and I'm not bout to. He just comin' up wit' dumb stuff."

You in school all fucking day. How you don't know this shit?

"Ask him again." My granny suggested.

"Anthony. You'on know how to do your take aways?"

"I do!"

"So where the fuck you get 11 from?"

"Ain't that what I'm posed to do!" He whined.

I stared at him blankly, trying to see if he was really serious or not.

What the fuck is they teaching him up there?

"Take 5 away from 7 and see what chu get." I instructed and watched him drop his pencil down on the table and hold up his ten fingers.

His tongue poked out his mouth as he counted, going slowly like he was diffusing a bomb.

"It's 2!" I boomed, accidentally and Anthony jumped back some. "The answer is 2, bruh."

"Oh," he nodded, picking up his pencil and writing it down on the line.

"You good?" I asked him, standing up.

He wiped his face with the backs of his hands. "Yeah," he nodded. "Now I just got the back to do."

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