by Nikki Grimes
Usually when it’s time to move, I pretend I’m going on vacation, and tell friends I’ll see them later. They generally help load the van, so they know the truth. And yet they play the game because they love me and understand how badly I need the fairy tale. Tomorrow it’ll be Destinee and Sophie helping me haul boxes to the van.
But—miraculously there is a but—I really will be seeing my friends again. In fact, we’ll be sharing lunch breaks and assemblies until we graduate, because I informed CeCe that she can ship our belongings to Timbuktu, but I refuse to change schools. Starting over in a new neighborhood, I told her, is tough enough without adding to my adolescent stress.
“Okay, smarty,” she said. “Let’s move to Zanzibar. Then you can commute by plane.”
“Very funny,” I said, not laughing. I love my sister, but she’s severely warped around the edges. This appears to be another family trait. Luckily, she did agree with me about school.
I’m actually looking forward to our new digs. I’ll have a whole room to myself, instead of half of one. And with a door! This is progress, though I suspect nosy CeCe will come and go as she pleases, periodically checking my dresser drawers for drugs to be on the safe side. I hate the invasion of privacy, but she says she’s just looking out for me, and I believe her.
Evening is finally settling over Amsterdam Avenue. The blues notes escaping The Garden of Eden have risen several decibels in the last half-hour. Crew is giving the jukebox serious competition, though. He can’t sing a lick, but his sad-sounding baritone can be heard a block away He ought to let B. B. King do all the singing, but no one dares say that to Crew’s face. I can’t help wondering if it’s just me who’s seen him gentle, if I’m the only one who knows Crew well enough not to be afraid.
Aunt Sarah stopped to give me a hug on her way upstairs. Her hold was tighter than usual, and I felt warm in the circle of her arms. My hands were freezing, though. Still, I remained on the stoop for as long as I could stand the cold. Sitting on the steps there, keeping tabs on the Avenue one last time, was my own way of saying good-bye.
Well, I better get busy now. I have to clear out my closet, and I’ve got a few more books to pack, including this one. The Life and Times of Jazmin Shelby will still be recorded, but my next entry will have to be in a new notebook because this only has one page left, and I’ve decided to leave it blank.
There’s something about a blank page that makes me tingle. I love how smooth, and crisp, and clean it is. I love how this plain and perfect piece of paper seems to be just waiting for me to baptize it with ink, to put my own special mark on it, to make it mine. And now that I think of it, that’s exactly what I love about tomorrows.
Nikki Grimes has applied her prodigious talents to journalism, poetry, novels, photography, and teaching. Her celebrated body of work includes the coming-of-age novel Growin’, a Bank Street Children’s Book of the Year, and the picture book It’s Raining Laughter, illustrated with photographs by Myles C. Pinkney. Ms. Grimes won a 1999 Coretta Scott King Honor for Jazmin’s Notebook. She lives in California.
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