Page 50 of The Black Flamingo

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You know?”

“I know, Mummy,” I say. “I know.”

I look at Kieran differently, appreciating

his looks and soccer skills for the first time.

He becomes my imaginary boyfriend.

It’s comforting. We don’t have

any classes together but at lunchtime

he waves at me from the soccer cage;

at least I think he’s waving at me—

he could be waving at Daisy.

“Do you fancy Kieran?” I ask Daisy.

“No,” she says. “I don’t fancy black boys.”

It’s another one of those things she says

that I don’t know how to respond to.

If we weren’t friends I’d think she was racist.

Can you be racist when you’re a quarter black?

How could anyone not fancy Kieran?

He has a perfect smile; the fade in his hair

always looks fresh. He never looks scruffy;

even after a whole lunch hour of playing

soccer, he doesn’t even break a sweat.

I imagine standing at the entrance

to the soccer cage, watching Kieran play

and when he scores a goal he runs over

to kiss me, in celebration. And it’s normal.

I imagine sitting at the back of the bus

with him and all the other black boys

on the way home from school,

and not in the middle, with Daisy.

Nothing changes about their laughter

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