Page 98 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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with a bombastic side-eye

as I kiss my teeth at her.

We both laugh.

The line shuffles forward again;

we shuffle forward, too.

Jyoti gives me a wry smile.

“You know, if you’re looking

for an editor for your writing,

I’d be happy to take a look.”

I’m warmed by Jyoti’s offer,

but I’m not ready to take her up on it.

I’m not sure I trust her yet:

I could happily hand her a ten-pound bill,

but I couldn’t imagine

handing her my notebook.

I guess my face shows it.

“No pressure,” Jyoti says, smiling

but crestfallen.

“I just thought I’d put it out there.

I’m going to ask The Author

if he can arrange for me

to do work experience with his editor.”

We shuffle forward for a third time,

and now there are only two students

between us and The Author.

Mrs. James takes my ten,

and gives me my change:

one pound and one penny.

She writes my name on a sticky note,

to make sure The Author spells it correctly.

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