“Yeah. Anthony has everything under control.”
“He was a great hire.”
“You were the one who wanted to bring him on.”
She smiles, but shakes her head. “I was just happy you asked me to meet him before you hired him.”
“I’ve never hired anyone without you signing off,” I remind her with a frown.
“True, but we both know I wasn’t around, so I appreciated being involved.”
“Well, we made a good call with him.” I check my watch and grimace. “I told him I’d be in as soon as this is over, so I hope it doesn’t last long.”
“What do you think this is about? Ms. Halstead’s email was kind of vague: ‘I would like to discuss a few things regarding Kassim’s progress.’ What does that even mean?”
“It can’t be anything bad. It’s Kassim.”
“It’s not Kassim’s behavior I’m worried about. He’s the only Black boy in his class. They better not trip.”
“I’m as vigilant as you, but don’t go into this being too sensitive. Remember how youmaybeoverreacted to that comment Mrs. Thatcher made about Deja last year?”
“The woman called herarticulate. That’s the most microaggressive bullshit. Like, oh!” Yasmen’s face transmogrifies into an uncannily accurate imitation of Mrs. Thatcher’s pinched expression. “I’m so surprised this little Black girl can string together two whole sentences using the Queen’s English. She’s soarticulate.”
Apparently Yasmen’s pink sweater is covering a Kevlar vest and she is in fully armed Black Mama mode.
“Yas, we’re gonna play it cool, right? Not jump to any conclusions?”
“Oh, was I the one who went HAM when they tried to put Kassim in the yellow reading group?”
“First of all, that was second grade, and it was ridiculous. He was outreading all those other kids and…”
Her smug smile snatches the rest of my sentence, and I have to grin back.
“All right, you made your point, Sistah Souljah.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Brother Malcolm.”
We stare at each other for a second before breaking the silence with a chuckle. With so much fighting leading up to our divorce and so much tension following, I forgot we make a great team.
Ms. Halstead, a woman with pale, freckled skin, curly brown hair, and hazel eyes, enters and speed walks across the room. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem,” Yasmen mutters with a smile that curves too perfectly while giving me herShe better act rightlook from the corner of her eye.
Ms. Halstead turns a desk around until it’s facing us. She pushes up the sleeves of her cream-colored cardigan and leans her elbows on the desk.
“It’s good to see you both again,” she says, her smile friendly and warm. “I mentioned at orientation that I’d heard great things about Kassim, and he has more than lived up to all the compliments previous teachers paid him.”
“That’s awesome,” Yasmen says, her shoulders lowering almost imperceptibly and her smile turning more natural.
“Terrific,” I say dryly. “So you wanted us to come just to celebrate how incredible Kassim is doing?”
Yasmen subtly kicks me in the ankle, which I ignore.
“Or was there a concern?” I continue.
Ms. Halstead shifts in the desk, crossing her ankles and clearing her throat. “Kassim is one of our brightest students. So bright, in fact, I think the work may not challenge him sufficiently. If I’m being honest, he could grow bored.”
There is so obviously a “but” coming that Yasmen and I share a quick, knowing glance, and I brace myself for it.