Page 52 of When I Thug You Like That

CHAPTER 8

Let It Marinate

JAI’ANA

By the end of the school day, I’d learned two things about Jamison Sullivan Jr. He loved building anything he could knock down, and he had no problem making friends so long as they were his size.

His first day had gone better than I expected. He followed the classroom rules, participated in every activity, and even came up to the front of the class to assist me. After spending a full day with him, I knew for sure that his father hadn’t exaggerated one bit about how smart he was. When he traced his letters then the student’s next to him, it took me and Ms. K out. And while there were a few times where I had to redirect him, it never turned into a meltdown. I considered that a win.

“Ms. Jai, look!”

I looked up from my clipboard where I’d been checking off kids as they left with their parent or guardian and found Jamison hanging upside down from one of the lower bars on the playground.

“Oh, you are quite the gymnast,” I said, smiling and making my way over to him.

He grinned at me upside down.

“I flip.”

“Ummm, how ‘bout we not?” I suggested, gently lifting him so that he was sitting up straight. “You’re almost home. We can’t have you in the ER, handsome.”

“Daddy!” he exclaimed before taking flight to the park gate.

“Careful, Jamison,” I yelled out, knowing he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Wassup, champ?”

I turned to see Mr. Sullivan leaned up against the gate. For some reason, I looked past him, expecting to see Jamison’s mother bringing up the rear, but she wasn’t. Deciding that it was best to mind my business as to the why, I proceeded to walk over.

“Your son has been an exemplary student today.”

He smirked, picking Jamison up. “Why that sound like something you tell all the first day parents?”

“Only the ones that I think have exemplary students.”

His brows lifted. “Meaning we the best.”

“I can only speak for the student, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Yeah, aight.”

“Wanna play, Daddy?” Jamison pointed to the ground, signaling that he’d had enough parent time.

I’d also learned that his requests often came out as a question.

“Dang, man. I ain’t seen you in hours. You ain’t miss ya pops?”

When Jamison responded by hugging him briefly then shimming down his leg onto the ground and bolting over to his classmates, we both laughed.

“Oh, that’s another thing,” I said. “He has no problem making new friends.”

“More girls than boys?”

“Oh, my God, really?”

He chuckled. “I’m just tryna see if my boy mackin’ like I was at that age.”

“Boy, please. You were not mackin’ at five.”