A ten-day suspension has tweens De'Kari and Ebony seeing the world with a fresh perspective. Don't miss this poignant novel in verse from the award-winning author of Isaiah Dunn Is My Hero.
Two kids. One fight. No one thinks they’re wrong.
Flow I don’t even hit girls . . . is what I’m thinking. I roll my eyes, turn them to my shoes.
Shoes I’ma wear every day till they fall off my feet.
Eb It was all just an accident! Nobody was trying to mess up his Stupid Ugly Shoes.
Now I’ve got my third suspension of seventh grade.
Ebony and De’Kari (aka Flow) do not get along. How could they when their cafeteria scuffle ended with De'Kari's ruined shoes, Ebony on the ground, and both of them with ten days of at-home suspension? Now Eb and Flow have two weeks to think about and explain their behavior—to their families, to each other, and ultimately to themselves.
Award-winning author Kelly J. Baptist delivers a novel in verse that follows Eb and Flow as they navigate their parallel lives. Single-parent homes, tight funds, and sibling dynamics provide a balancing act for the growing tweens. And whether they realize it or not, these two have a lot more in common than they think.Praise for Eb & Flow “A moving and layered story of reflection and connection.” —Kirkus Reviews
"This story will resonate with readers struggling to find ways to express their emotional lives in ways that society deems appropriate." —The Horn Book Praise for Isaiah Dunn Is My Hero: A Bank Street Best Children's Book of the Year!
“An inventive and heartfelt debut novel.” —The New York Times
★ "An uplifting, affirming story for every collection.” —Booklist, starred review
★ "Isaiah’s optimism, drive, and loyalty to friends and family make him a hero to cheer for and lend a feeling of hope to this exploration of difficult topics." —Publishers Weekly, starred review
Praise for The Swag Is in the Socks: ★"An excellent read-alike to Jacqueline Woodson’s Harbor Me or Janae Marks’ From the Desk of Zoe Washington.”–Booklist, Starred Review "A warm but authentic picture of a middle schooler figuring out who he is and who he wants to be." –The Bulletin Kelly J. Baptist is the inaugural winner of the We Need Diverse Books short-story contest. Her story is featured in the WNDB anthology Flying Lessons & Other Stories and inspired her first full-length novel, Isaiah Dunn Is My Hero, and its sequel, Isaiah Dunn Saves the Day. Kelly is also the author of the picture book The Electric Slide and Kai and The Swag Is in the Socks, which was inspired by her love of unique socks, as well as her older sister’s hero work as a speech-language pathologist. Kelly lives in southwest Michigan with her five amazing children. Find Kelly at kellyiswrite.com.The Day Of
Flow
I don’t hit girls.
I don’t even hit girls . . . is what I’m thinking
but I musta said it out loud because Mr. Warren,
our bald-headed principal, raises his eyebrows and says,
“You sure about that? Our cameras
show us something very different, De’Kari.”
“It’s Flow,” I say. I always say it.
“Your name is De’Kari Flood, and that’s
what I’m calling you,” says Mr. Warren.
Just like everyone else.
I roll my eyes, turn them to my shoes.
New shoes.
Shoes I’ma wear every day till they fall off my feet.
Eb
“He called me the b-word.
And it was all just an accident!
Nobody was trying to mess up
his Stupid Ugly Shoes.”
My arms are crossed, and I’m giving Mr. Warren
the same look I seen Ma give my sister, Poke,
when Poke comes at her wrong.
Ma learned The Look from my granny,
who be givin’ it to all of us when we’re wrong.
I’m not tryna be no poet, but
Poke ain’t no Joke.
So she gets The Look a lot.
Guess I do, too.
Few more minutes of this with Mr. Warren,
and then my granny will be on the phone
listening to him tell her
allllllll about
how
Ebony
got to fighting
again.
“So you stepped on his shoes by accident?”
“YES!”
Sometimes I be thinkin’ Mr. Warren
can’t hear that good.
He asks the same questions
over
and over.
“And then he called you a name?”
“The b-word.”
Get it right, Mr. Warren.
“And then?”
“I slapped him in his ugly face.”
Yeah. I slapped him good, too!
Everybody in the lunchroom went,
“OOOOOOOH!”
“Then he pushed you?” Mr. Warren asks,
lookin’ all concerned.
“And I pushed him back!” I say.
Loud.
“You seen the video—why you wastin’ time asking?”
Mr. Warren ignores my question.
He good at that.
“What happened after you pushed him?”
I let the question
hang.
I glue my hand to my leg to keep from touching
my left cheek, which throbs.
If I wasn’t dark like Milky Way Midnights,
I’d be red right there.
Like that cinnamon gum Poke’s boyfriend loves.
Because that can’t-rap fool, who calls himself Flow,
swung
on
me.
Flow
Mr. Warren’s the mean principal.
The one giving suspensions out like M&M’s
and making kids go to detention and stuff.
Mr. Porter’s the nice principal who talks
at assemblies and can actually dance.
If you’re student of the week, he buys you lunch, whatever you want.
And if you get on
“Principal Porter’s list,”
there’s a fancy banquet.
I ain’t on
nobody’s list,
and I don’t care.
Except . . . Mr. Warren pulls up my grades,
tells me I’m close.
Close to having them add my name to a list
but which one
is up
to me.
Eb
Third suspension of seventh grade.
Eighth since I been at Brookside Junior High.
Mr. Warren tells me this like I don’t know.
It’s a lot.
So?
Maybe if people stop messin’ with me . . .
“Did you apologize?”
“Huh?”
“You said it was an accident,” Mr. Warren says.
He leans forward. “Did you apologize to De’Kari
for stepping on his shoes?”
“Yeah,” I say,
rolling my eyes . . . and the lie.
Flow
“How come you didn’t get an adult?”
They always ask this.
C’mon, man. You got “war” in your name.
Don’t act like
You
Don’t
Know.
That’s what my shrug says.
“Look at me,” Mr. Warren says.
“Real men look eye to eye.”
I glare at him. Silent.
Oh yeah?
A real man also don’t get punked by no stupid girl.
I got scratches on the side of my face from that girl!
“Y’all gotta learn how to let stuff go.”
My brain screams,
That’s the problem, Mr. Warren!
Everything I have,
everything I love
already goes.
Eb
I shift in the seat, and my back shouts.
My face must show it.
“Are you okay?” asks Mr. Warren.
I only nod.
But I already know this really gonna hurt tomorrow,
just like when I fought Shaya.
I barely remember what happened after I pushed De’Kari . . .
after he socked me.
I heard kids sayin’,
“OOOOH, he slammed her!” after they broke us up and
dragged us to the guidance office.
Great.
I bet Jonetta and Bri and them were recording on their phones.
They do that with all the fights.
I suck my teeth, sigh.
Mr. Warren sighs, too.
“Are we calling your grandmother?”
“Who else we gon’ call?” I snap before I can stop myself.
Mr. Warren dials. “I hope these ten days give you plenty of time to think about the path you’re on, Ebony.”
Whatever.
Granny picks up and Mr. Warren puts on his principal voice.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lewis. This is Principal Warren at Brookside—”
“Ah naw! Do NOT tell me Ebony in trouble again?”
I wince when I hear her voice.
Mr. Warren explains the fight, what he think happened.
Tells Granny I got ten days.
“Put her on the phone,” Granny demands.
I groan when Mr. Warren puts it on speaker.
“Granny, I ain’t even do nothing!” I start.
“Betta shut that mouth! I’m ’bout sick of getting calls
from that school!”
“But he—”
Doesn’t matter what I say. Granny barrels over my words.
“Poke got the car; can’t get you till she’s off work.”
“That’s alright,” Mr. Warren says. “She’ll finish the day in the Focus Center.”
No one listens when I say that’s the last place
on earth I wanna be.
Flow
I didn’t call her the b-word.
Even if he don’t believe me, I still need to say it.
It was probably Greg. He calls all the girls that word.
I’m not about to snitch, cuz it don’t even matter now
and that’s not what we do.
But Mr. Warren needs to know.
Eb
Poke works at Rainbow, the one in the same plaza
as Target and PetSmart.
She lucky to have that job, ’specially after our cousin
Ty’ree stole some stuff from there.
Tried to, anyway.
Ladies’ boots with fur inside, an off-brand jersey,
And a wallet.
Dumb stuff.
He got caught quick.
Poke says the smartest thing he did was
act like he didn’t know her.
That was a few years ago, but Granny still don’t like
when I tease him and say,
“Ty’ree rhymes with free!”
Ty’ree the kind of cousin you glad is your cousin,
