It Doesn't Take a Genius by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich

Author:Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Six Foot Press
Published: 2021-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

By the end of the first week, I decide that until I can figure out how to help myself, I can at least help Charles. Well, Luke can, even if it’s indirectly. “You got this, Chuck-dog,” I say. I’ve been trying to figure out a good nickname for Charles, but so far, he’s been stubborn and we don’t have one. It’s funny, we kind of have nothing in common, but we’re simpatico as Charles, (and only Charles), would say.

“It’s Charles,” he says, without even looking up from the book he’s reading. While we walk. He sidesteps a big rock without looking. I’m supposed to be the smooth one between the two of us, but I just tripped over a giant branch on the ground from last night’s rain, and I was paying attention. I’m working out some ideas for street style choreography as we head to Superhero Secrets, so to be honest, we both probably look a little weird. “Not Chuck-dog, not Charlie, nothing but Charles.”

“Not even C?” I try again. We pass the circus class; it’s trapeze day so there’s a lot of screaming and some cursing that I guess the counselors pretend they don’t hear.

“Not even C. Look, I like my name. Now, tell me again.”

“Okay, I think you should just … talk to her, but by talk to her, I mean more … Listen. Like, when my brother’s on the phone with his girlfriend, he barely even talks. He just says ‘uh-huh’ and ‘yeah, I understand’ and ‘you right, you right’ a lot.”

Charles nods. “What about the walk? How am I doing?” He takes a couple of steps like he’s in one of those Blaxploitation movies from the seventies that Uncle Davidson showed me. Is that what I look like?

I shake my head. “It’s time to give that up, bruh. I was wrong. Do your thing, and don’t be afraid. Ask her questions, listen to the answers, and follow up.”

“How do you know this stuff, E? Is there a book that I don’t know about?”

Yeah, right. “I just watch my brother. He’s smooth. His girlfriend is always texting red heart emojis, not yellow or pink. You’ll see. I’ve been wanting to introduce you, but he’s … working and stuff.”

We walk past some of the kids from my swimming group, and that snot-filled, “Original Pee Pants” Lance kid says, “Hi, Emmett!” really loud. I think he believes we’re actual buddies, not just forced swim buddies. I nod quickly and keep it moving.

“It must be nice, having an older brother at home. But when he goes to boarding school next year, you’ll have your parents’ full attention,” says Charles. “Take it from personal only child experience. That can be good and bad. Your dad will try all kinds of bonding things.”

“We live with my mother,” I say. “My dad died a long time ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know,” I say. “No worries. Mom says it is what it is.” I pause and say to myself, That doesn’t even make sense.

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