CHAPTER 32

“Now, back to my class” Mrs. Ayodele, dragged a plastic armchair to the front of the class.

Some students grumbled.

“Let me hear from you Aisha, you’ve been mute. What’s on?”

“good afternoon class. I wanna talk about The Ballad of Rocky Rontal. This was a publication made in 2016 by my uncle.”

“ pretty astonishing hmmm. Class put a round of applause for Aisha. She’s got a great uncle.”

The class did, a bit grudgingly..

“THE FIRST TIME I met Rocky Rontal, I asked him to describe his childhood. I watched him stiffen, like someone preparing for the sharp poke of a needle. He rubbed a palm over his close-cropped black hair. It was a long moment before he spoke. “I didn’t have one,” he said finally.

It was late autumn in the Bay Area, and he’d come in from Stockton to meet me. The gloomy skies had cleared, and outside everything was slick and shiny and glowing in the bright sunshine. Rocky, by contrast, was all darkness. He’s in his early 50s, wiry, compact, and reserved. He wore all black,