URÏ: A Poet, Rising: Amanda POV

Chideziri makes me go the Poetry club on Friday, after normal school classes. Little feats runs these minut clubs every two days of the month, social gathering time. These clubs allow for the sustainable development of the child's intelligence quotient and encourage creativity and self-reliance—at least that's what the club manifestoes say. 

  Chideziri is in the art club, because apparently, membership is compulsory. I told him that it would be nice if I joined the art club, too. I did not tell him that it would be nicer if we sat together at the back of the class and he ran his fingers over the M traced into my palm, like he often does. Either way, he said, "No. Absolutely not. You are only searching for an excuse yo sit next to me."

"Of course not." I said, grimacing. "I don't need a babysitter."

He laughed, pulled at my cheeks and said, "Says who?"

Then he walked me to Poetry club. My hands shook the entire way—like