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Written By K.M. BlackwellIllustrated by Fx and Color Studio1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, andincidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are usedfictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events orlocales is entirely coincidental. Copyright @ 2023 Pin Deep PressAll rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced orused in any manner without permission of the copyright owner, exceptfor the use of quotations in a book review. First paperback edition 2023Contact: PinDeepPress@gmail.comISBN 979-8-9873712-0-62

This book is dedicated to every reader who is on a journey to discovering their own voices and the power it holds. Mom, Dad, Kenny, Adrienne, Jalen & Nija. Also M.V./S.S.3

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Table of Contents1. You Have to Say Something..........................................62. What If? Yes, What If?.............................................283. Tug-Of-War.................................................................374. It’s A Promise..............................................................575. Poems & Superpowers..................................................636. Practice Makes Perfect Improvement........................717. Fingers Don’t Fail Me Now..........................................768. Last Piece of the Puzzle?...........................................839. An Unlocked Treasure.................................................905

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Today is our monthly STEM challenge in Ms. Beverly’sclass. STEM stands for Science, Technology, Engineering,and Math. We use what we’ve learned in those subjects tocreate and build new things. Last month we built recycle- bots. The month before, we built rubber band - poweredcars. “Kamaal, I’m so excited,” Olivia whispers to me. Olivia’s my best friend. She’s cool and super smart.We have a lot in common. We love adventures, crackingjokes, dogs, the color blue, and science. When I say I love science, I mean, I really lovescience. I even have two STEM kits at home.CHAPTER ONEYOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING!7

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I’m always drawing pictures of bridges, buildings, androbots. When I show my drawings to Olivia, she encouragesme to show other people. Sometimes she gets more excitedthan I do! She says she’s my biggest fan, which is probablytrue. prefer to keep my drawings to myself. But one day, I accidentally left my notebook open when I went to therestroom. When I came back, Ms. Beverly was looking at mydrawings. My eyes almost bugged out of my head! She askedme if I’d created them myself. I told her I did, but not inclass. I didn’t want to get in trouble.9

I thought for sure Ms. Beverly would just nod andwalk away, but instead, she told me my designs and ideaswere great. She especially loved my robotic dog, Rocko. Myparents won’t let me have a dog yet. That doesn’t stop mefrom asking every month though. Right now, Rocko is just anidea. But maybe it will be a real invention one day. Rocko willwalk real dogs, so owners don’t have to. Wouldn’t that beawesome?! Ms. Beverly said she’d pay anything to own anR.T.R.D.—Rocko The Robotic Dog. That made me feel reallygood. I already have a customer! I still remember the “I told you so” look on Olivia’sface. I don’t know for sure, but I think she may have shownthe notebook to Ms. Beverly.10

Since then, Ms. Beverly has been pushing me to domore. She encourages me to “share my talents”. She’d likefor me to show my classmates, but I’m not ready. Now, I look back at Olivia. “I’m excited, too,” I say. “I wonder what we’re going to build. A roller coaster would be awesome!”11

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Out of nowhere we hear loud honking and pleas toslow down. It’s coming from the hallway. The entire classturns toward the door and waits for the familiar scene toplay out. Sure enough, in speeds Dillon in his wheelchair. Hissignature landing is marked by a double spin. It always sendspapers from Ms. Beverly’s desk flying to the ground. I grin. Dillon is my other best friend. He’s not quietlike me, though. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard him stoptalking for longer than a few minutes in all the time I’veknown him. He’s what Ms. Beverly calls a “character.” Someone with a unique personality. I guess that’s why wework. He talks and I don’t have to. “I’m here, Ms. Beverly,” Dillon shouts proudly.13

“We know Dillon. We heard you coming,” she replieswearily. Dillon comes over and we Tip Tap Dap. It’s ahandshake we made up just for us. Olivia saw us doing itonce and now she gets upset we won’t let her join in. Shetries everything she can think of to mess us up. She slidesher hands between ours. She jumps around while singing. Sometimes she stomps her feet. “I have hands, too. I can shake them just like you. C’mon let me join,” she chants repeatedly. Dillon and I laugh as we continue. In the end, shealways gives up and grins.14

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“Alright class,” says Ms. Beverly, “you know whattoday is!” She points to the board. “Did you say STEM?” we all blurt out together. For each STEM challenge, Ms. Beverly chooses fourteam leads. Today she chooses me! As team lead, I get to pick two people to be in mygroup.16

I choose Olivia and Dillon. Ms. Beverly gets to pickthe rest of my team. She chooses Kennedi and Byron. Our assignment is to build the tallest, strongesttower we can—one that can hold a baseball at the top for atleast ten seconds. Our only materials are fifty straws andtape. 17

My team gets to work right away, keeping in mind theSTEM steps: Ask, Imagine, Plan, and Create. First, we ask ourselves what problem we need to solve.Then we develop multiple ideas. After that we choose an idea. And finally, we createand test the prototype. A prototype is a model that allowsyou to test your ideas.18

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Ms. Beverly says that team leaders must let everyoneelse share their ideas first, so we go around, taking turnsuntil we get to Kennedi. She’s right before me. When sheshares her idea, everyone loves it. They can’t wait to getstarted. Their reaction makes me less confident in my idea. Onmy turn, I decide not to share. Instead, I go along with theteam.21

We build the tower, but when we test it, it collapses. Twice. While my team starts over, I grab my notebook andsketch out my design for the tower. I think I may havefound the solution, but what if I’m wrong? What if it failsand everyone laughs at me? They’ll think I’m not smart. Ican’t risk it, so I close my notebook and keep quiet. When it’s our turn to present, we place the ball ontop of the tower. Three seconds after timer starts, thetower crumbles. Ms. Beverly assures us it’s okay, but we’re stilldisappointed. Dillon is most upset. He wanted to win theprize—a snake cube. He’s been talking about it since lastmonth’s challenge.22

On STEM challenge days, Ms. Beverly gives us “free time” after the competition. She recommends we use it to clearour minds. Dillon is talking Ms. Beverly’s ear off. Olivia islaughing in the corner with some other girls in class. 23

I decide to test the design I sketched. I have toknow if it would’ve worked! I take the straws and tape and start building thetower. When I’m done, I place the baseball on top. Thetower holds! I start the timer. It’s at ten seconds when Dillonsees my tower and comes over. I turn to him with a hugesmile. “If you had the answer, why didn’t you tell us?” heasks. “You could have fixed ours. We could’ve won!” Before I can answer, he shakes his head and rollsaway. My smile slowly fades. I sit quietly staring at thetower until I get so upset, I knock it over. There I remain,by myself, untill dismissal.24

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On the bus ride home, I tell Olivia why our towercrumbled and show her my design. Dillon wasn’t too happyabout it, but I know she will be. After all, she’s my biggestfan! But instead, she scowls at me. “Drawing it in your notebook doesn’t count. You needto share, Kamaal. I like your design, but it can’t help us now.” Then she turns and peers out the window. All my excitement disappears. Tears come to my eyesand trickle down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away. Balling up the drawing, I sit quietly in my seat and starestraight ahead. Olivia and I don’t speak for the rest of the ride. Thesilence between us makes me uncomfortable. I can’t wait toget off the bus.26

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Exiting the bus, I run across the street, over the drypatchy grass, and through the red door. I stand still for amoment, panting—trying to catch my breath. I’m relieved tobe home. When I’m having a bad day, I need my favorite snacksto cheer me up. BBQ crispy chips and fruity fruit juice arethe best. I grab them from the kitchen and start on myhomework. I can hear dad in the laundry room. He’s singingone of those oldie songs. When he gets done, he peeks in onme and I know what that means. It’s time for our joke-of-the-day battle. Today, I’m not in the mood.CHAPTER TWOWHAT IF? YES, WHAT IF?28

“What is white, gooey, and hot on the bottom?” Dadasks. I don’t respond and look away. “Your butt after sitting on a toasted marshmallow!” I look back and stare at him. “Tough room. Bad day?” 29

I tell Dad what happened in class, and what Dillon andOlivia said. “Why didn’t you share your idea with the team?” heasks. I shrug. “I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I was scared theymight think my idea was stupid. I kept thinking, what if myidea isn’t good enough? Everyone might laugh at me.” Dad places his hand on my shoulder. “What if your idea or answer is the best one? Whatif it’s the last piece of the puzzle? What if it could unlocktreasures? The world could miss out on something great ifyou keep your ideas bottled up inside. Failures and mistakesare a part of learning. They help you grow and improve.” He puffs out his chest.30

“You know, I tell you all the time you’re the smartest little boy I know. Not just because you’re my son, either. You have a brilliant mind. Now all you need to do is believe it yourself, and you’ll find your voice. Your inner roar.” “But how?” I ask. Just then my mom comes barging in. “Kamaal, you’ve been invited to take part in a focus group for kids. Looks like Ms. Beverly recommended you.”31

“What’s a focus group?” I ask. “Well, it’s an opportunity for you to share your opinions about a product or service,” she explains. “The product or service can be something that already exists. Or it could be something that will becreated. The group tests it for themselves. Their feedbackis very helpful to the researchers.” “Have you done one before,” I ask. “I’ve done a few of them,” she brags. “Rememberabout six months ago when I tried that new deodorant?” “You bet I do!” Dad says, shaking his head. “Oh, hush. I wasn’t asking you,” she replies through pursed lips. “Oh, yeah!” I say. “You kept saying it was no match for your sweat. You couldn’t wait to go back to your regular brand.32

“I wanted her to go back to her regular brand,” Dad quips, holding his nose. He can’t help but laugh at his own joke. When my dad laughs hard, tears come to his eyes. “Right. I didn’t work for me. I was funky!” Mom cackles. “I used it as part of a focus group. We were each asked to try it for a week. Then we shared our thoughts about the product with the group.” “Were you nervous?” I ask. “Not really. You know I like to talk, so taking part in discussions is a treat for me. My group had a lot of different opinions. Some loved it and asked for more. Others didn’t like the scent of it. A couple felt it was too sticky. A few said they might buy it on occasion.” “What happened afterward?”33

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“I guess enough people liked it. I saw it in the grocery store just last week.” “Don’t buy it, Mom!” I caution. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” she assures me. We all share a hearty laugh. “What will I have to do in the kids’ focus group?” I ask. Mom looks at the paper. “Let’s see. The focus group is called ‘Children at Play.’ That could be anything. Toys, video games, board games. It does say there will be fifteen kids.” That sounds like a big group to me. Too many people to talk in front of. I’m not sure I want to take part, but before I can utter a word, Mom says, “I’m signing you up. This is a great opportunity, and it’ll be a lot of fun. Trust me.”35

She practically skips out of the room. I moan and collapse across the table, but Dad just laughs. “Remember our talk.”36

With homework and dinner done, I get washed up and ready for bed. Tonight’s homework took longer thanexpected. Good thing today is Friday because it’s past my bedtime. I almost fell asleep at dinner. Mom had to save my face from falling into my spaghetti. Grabbing my backpack, I take out the design I balled up on the bus. I smooth it out and tape it up on my wall, next to one of my favorite drawings.CHAPTER THREETUG-OF-WAR37

It’s the one I got when my parents took me tothe carnival last year. An artist drew me as a cartoon. It has a gigantic head with a small body.38

At first, I was upset because I thought it was mean. My head isn’t that big! Then Mom explained that these types of drawings are called caricatures. They’re supposed to look like that; exaggerated, silly, and fun. Once I understood, I thought it was funny. I lie in bed thinking, waiting for Mom to come. Wehave a nightly tuck-in routine that I look forward to.39

I’m trying to keep my eyes open, but with each yawn they get heavier. I think about what Dad said. *yawn* Could my ideas really unlock treasures? What kind of treasures? I have *yawn* a lot of . . . ideas thatcould . . . be. . . .40

“Of course, you can unlock treasures. Especially withmy help,” a voice replies. I sit up straight as bursts of colorful light bounceoff the walls. Big, puffy clouds begin to fill the room. “What’s happening?” I shout. “You’re the one dreaming, I should be asking you,” the voice cries out. “I’m dreaming?” “You bet you are. Look around. Things look very different in your dreams. How else would you have atrampoline in your room?” I do look around. That’s when I realize the voice is coming from the cartoon me, the caricature, on the wall! I—I mean he—jumps out of the drawing and falls headfirst onto my night table.41

“Ouch! I’m alright!” he assures me with a thumbs up. I watch as he tries lifting his head. He grunts and groans with much effort but no luck. “Do you need help?” I ask, unsure what to do. “I could use a hand or two. My head is super heavy, and my neck muscles aren’t that strong,” he exclaims.42

I grab my rocket ship stand and use it to keep his head upright. “Who are you? Why are you in my dream?” I ask. “Mom says we dream about the things that happened throughout our day. I don’t remember you being around today.” “Sure I was,” he protests. “Remember that talk with your dad? The one about believing in yourself? Finding your confidence? Your voice?” “Oh yeah,” I reply. “Well, that’s where I come in. I’m Kismet Kam. Your inner roar.” He tries to bow, but just falls flat on his face. “Oh, no. Hand please,” he pleads. “My what? Who?” I ask, helping him up.43

“I live deep down inside of you. I’m the little voice cheering you on. I’m always encouraging you to do what’s right. ”I stare at him for a moment. Examining him from head to toe. “Roars are big and loud, but you’re small with a tiny voice! The only thing big about you is your head!” “Hey, watch it! I may be small, but I’m strong and powerful.” FWOMP! His head hits the table again. “Help! Heeeelp!” “Maybe you shouldn’t move so much,” I say, as I set him back on the rocket ship stand. “Thanks.” “Anyway, I don’t remember ever hearing cheering inside of me,” I tell him.44

You probably didn’t realize what it was. Probably thought it was music playing. Besides, you’re usually too busy listening to green-eyed, Judgmental Jack. “I am? Who’s he? Is he deep inside, too?” I ask. “He sure is, and he’s really clever. I am as well, except, we’re opposites. I love, love, love positivity. He loves, loves, loves negativity. Jack likes to get inside your mind.45

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He makes you focus on all the wrong things, like self- doubt, negative thoughts, and unkind words from otherpeople. We have tug-o-war battles all the time. YOU control the rope!” “I do?” I ask. “How?” “By believing in yourself. When you’re confident that gives me strength to pull the rope and beat Jack. But when you’re not confident, it gives him the strength to pull the rope and beat me. When Jack wins, that’s when the doubts in your head get louder. The louder they get the moreyou start believing things that aren’t true.” “Like today during the STEM challenge!” I exclaim. “Exactly! Jack won that battle,” Kismet Kam says. “Remember, whenever you make the choice to believe in yourself, your confidence grows. Confidence frees your voice, so your roar can be heard by everyone.”48

“Hey, my dad said the same thing,” I interject. “Sooo . . . you’re always with me?” “Always. Whenever you get nervous or afraid, take a deep breath. Listen for the cheering. The roar!” “What if I can’t hear it?” “You just have to block out Jack. I know it can behard, and sometimes you may not hear me. But with time and practice you’ll soon hear more of me and less of him.” “Hmmm,” I say. “I don’t know.” Kismet Kam looks me straight in the eye. “Try this,”he says. He spins around and around. Sparks bounce off the walls. “Repeat after me and follow what I do,” he commands. He starts marching across the room, toward the wall. He’s shouting in his tiny voice, “I don’t know what you’ve been told.”49

“I don’t know what you’ve been told,” I repeat. He starts walking up the wall! “I may be young, but I am bold.”50

“I may be young, but I am bold,” I chant, then pause.“I can’t climb walls,” I say nervously. But Kismet Kam just waves me to follow him, so I do The walls are sticky and bouncy. Soon, we are walking upside down on the ceiling. It’s so cool, I forget how scaredI am. “If you don’t believe that’s true.” “If you don’t believe that’s true.” “Just watch me as I prove it true.” “Just watch me as I prove it true.” Before we reach the floor again, I start losing mygrip. The walls aren’t so sticky anymore. This can’t be good. “Ahhhhhhhhhh”51

THUMP! “Ouch!” I whimper as I slowly open my eyes. I find myself on the floor at Mom’s feet. “Kamaal!”she cries out. “I’m alright,” I assure her.52

“I could hear you down the hall. How on earth did you fall out of bed?” she asks. “I was dreaming I was walking on the walls. Kismet Kam told me I could. They were sticky. Then my feet became loose, so I started falling.” “Slow down. Breathe. Who is Kismet Kam?” she asks, helping me back in bed. “He’s me. Well, he’s that.” I point to the wall where my favorite picture hangs. “He came to life and was doing all kinds of cool things.” “That must’ve been some dream,” Mom says. “It sounded like you were singing.” “Sorta. I was marching and chanting,” I boast. She starts tucking me in. “Mom, not too tight,” I warn. “I can barely move!”53

“Well, we don’t want you falling out of bed again,” she replies. Just then, she notices the new drawing on my wall. “Why is this one so wrinkled?” “I balled it up and threw it away, but then I decided to keep it.” “You threw it away? Why?” she asks. “Olivia and Dillon were upset about it,” I admit. “Why?” “Because I didn’t share it with my team.” “Why not?” “Because I thought someone else’s was better.” “Why?” “My team said it great.” “Why didn’t they like yours?” “Mom, you can’t keep asking why!” UGH!54

“In order to get to the real reason, we have to ask why,” she says. “I’ll let you think about that. Come on, now. Close your eyes. Four slow breaths in and four out.”55

Mom always has me do these breathing exercises. They help relax me before falling asleep. She caresses my cheek and starts to sing. It’s a song she wrote for me when I was a baby. My mom’s voice is so soothing. It helps me forget all the bad things from my day. I love our special time together every night. “Kamaal is my little honeybee. Sweetest thing in the world to me. He makes my heart flutter and skip a beat. Fills me with love from my head to my feet. Yes, he fills me with love from my head to my feet.” “I love you, Mom,” I murmur through a long yawn. “I love you too, honeybee,” she whispers. She leaves a warm kiss on my forehead, turns out the light, and closes the door behind her.56

Mondays always drag on and on. I’m glad it’s finally lunchtime. Olivia and I get to the lunch table at the same time. We sit in our usual spots across from each other. ItCHAPTER FOURIt’s A Promise57

feels weird between us. We haven’t spoken since the bus ride home on Friday. Most weekends, we usually hang out together. Today we had tests all morning, so we couldn’t talk like we usually do. I break the ice by showing her my sandwich. My mom always packs something silly in my lunch. It makes me feel like a little kid, but it makes her happy. “Do you want a pet panda?” I ask jokingly. “Panda sandwich. You can have it if you want it.” “Thanks, but I have a turkey sandwich,” she says, offering a smile. “It’s cute, though.” “I’m sorry for letting you down in the STEMchallenge,” I say. “I’m sorry for getting so upset with you on the bus,” she replies. “O.K. FORVER?” I ask, holding my breath, hoping she says yes.58

After a slight pause she confirms.59

“Kamaal, you have to tell your mom how you feel about the sandwiches. Tell her they make you feel like a baby,” Olivia says. “I know, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I mean…they aren’t that bad.” “But if you don’t tell her how will anything change? She’ll understand. Moms ALWAYS understand,” she assures me. I know she’s right. I just need to muster up thecourage to do it. Changing the subject, I tell Olivia about the focus group. Her eyes light up. “My mom signed me up for that one, too,” she saysenergetically. “Did Ms. Beverly recommend you?” “Yes. But I need to tell my mom I don’t want to go.”60

Olivia gives me a look I know all too well. She’s going to try to change my mind. “Come on. It will be fun,” she says. “And I’ll be there.” Finally, I agree to go. She makes me double pinky promise. As we continue eating, Dillon rolls up to the table. “I thought you had to eat lunch in Mr. Fink’s classroom. He wasn’t too happy with you disrupting class today,” Olivia blurts out. “He let me come to lunch. Said he had to make an important phone call. Besides, I wasn’t really in trouble. Mr. Fink likes my jokes. I just have to stop making them in his class.” I apologize to Dillon for not helping the group during the STEM challenge.61

“That’s ok. I really wanted that prize, though,” he admits. Olivia and I tell Dillon all about the focus group. “Yeah, I got invited, too,” he says. “I can’t go, though. We’ll be out of town that weekend to visit my grandmother. It’s a bummer. Hey, if you win a prize or something, promise you’ll share it with me,” Dillon pleads.Olivia and I agree. We seal it with a triple pinky promise.62

My homework assignment for English is to pick a poem I like and memorize it. Mrs. Givens provides the class with a bunch of options we can choose. There are different themes for each of them. We will be asked to present them in the next class. I like poetry. At least, I like reading it to my-self. But reciting it in front of the class? That’s the part that makes me nervous. I wish Mrs. Givens would allow me to close my eyes while I do it. I’d feel more comfortable talking in front the class that way. I’m sure she would say no, though. She’s always telling us to make eye contact with our audience. UGH!CHAPTER FIVEPoems & Superpowers63

The theme of my poem is superpowers. If I hadsuperpowers, I could do amazing things. My superpower would be mind-reading. That way I’d always know what people are thinking. I’d never have to guess. Another superpower I want is speed. With lightning-fast speed, I could get to school in two seconds! No more waking up early. No more riding the bus. But the ultimate superpower would be invisibility. If I were invisible, I’d do all the things I’mtoo scared to do. Being invisible would make everything easier.***64

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At home, my dad helps me practice my poem. We work on it for an hour. It isn’t hard to memorize. “I think you’re ready to do this in class,” Dad says. “Public speaking will be good for you. And I can tell you’repassionate about having superpowers.” “I don’t think I’m ready. When I get nervous, I forget everything,” I admit. “So, you mess up. What’s the worst that can happen?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “They’ll laugh.” “And?” “And it would hurt my feelings.” Dad takes my hand. “You have to stop worrying about what other people think. Instead of focusing on the bad, focus on the good. Think of how you’d feel if you had66

superpowers. That will keep you on track. Be confident. You’ve practiced long and hard. You know this poem. Believe you can get up there and recite it beautifully. And if you make a mistake, it really is ok.” In that moment I remember what Kismet Kam said inmy dream. He told me all I needed was confidence to help find my inner roar. I decide I’ll practice listening for the cheers. Then I’ll be able to block out Judgmental Jack. Grabbing my backpack, I run up to my room. This time I use the mirror to help me. I practice over and over until Mom comes for our nightly tuck-in.***67

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In class the next day, I sit and watch the other students recite their poems. I’m amazed how many volunteer to go. Not me! I’d rather wait for Mrs. Givens to call on me. Maybe we’ll run out of time, and I won’t have to take my turn. Just as that thought crosses my mind, I hear my name. “Kamaal, please come up. Tell us the tittle of the poem and begin. When you’re done, share with us the reason you chose that poem,” Mrs. Givens instructs. I stand in front of the class and give the title. My stomach begins to churn as I look out at a sea of faces staring back at me. My mouth gets a little dry. I can feel my heart starting to beat faster. I take a deep breath and begin. As I’m speaking, I see Mrs. Givens smiling. That must69

mean I’m doing well. I haven’t messed up. I start to get so happy, I lose my focus. Then I forget the last part. I try to think of it, but I can’t remember. OH NO! The words aren’t coming to me. The longer it takes, the more I start to panic. I try to listen for Kismet Kam’s cheers, but Jack is too loud. Ican’t block him out. “They’re going to laugh at you. I knew you were going to forget. You should have stayed home today.” I don’t know what else to do, so I run to my desk without finishing. I put my head down to avoid the stares. Mrs. Givens tells me it’s alright and makes me lift my head. “You did well Kamaal. No need to lower you head in shame,” she says. But I know she’s wrong. I’m embarrassed and disappointed. I tried. I really tried. And I failed.70

On Wednesdays I have piano lessons with Mr. Henderson. Braxton, a third grader from a different school, is usually leaving as I’m coming. For the last few weeks,CHAPTER SIXPractice Makes Perfect Improvement71

we’ve come at the same time though. We have a piano recital coming up, and Mr. Henderson assigned us to play a duet. As I make my way up Mr. Henderson’s walkway, I hear Braxton playing. I guess he got here early. I stop and listen. He’s SO GOOD. I don’t think he ever makes mistakes. Unlike me. There’s a difficult part in the music where I still fumble sometimes on my fingering. I never know if I’m going to make it through that section or mess up. This is our last lesson together before the recital this weekend. I haven’t told anyone, but I really don’t want to do the duet with Braxton. If I mess up during the recital, it will be embarrassing—for both of us. My whole family will be there, even my nana and pop-pop. My dad is already talking about recording it and showing to the rest of the72

family. What if when we take our bows, they clap for Braxton, but not for me? Then I remember what Kismet Kam said. The negative thoughts are just Judgmental Jack.Believe in yourself.73

I recall a part of the chant from our march. I may be young, but I am bold. I repeat it quietly to myself as I wait for the lesson to start. “Are you boys ready?” Mr. Henderson asks. “Yes,” we answer simultaneously. Each of us warms up on the piano. We play scales to get our fingers ready. Once we’re warm, we both take our seats on the bench. Braxton starts playing, then I come in.We go through the song a few times. I only get it right once. Mr. Henderson gives us a five-minute break. Whenwe come back, we play through it twice more. On the lastround it’s going really well. I’m determined to play all thecorrect notes. As we approach my problem spot, myfingers start hitting the wrong keys. I’ve messed up again.74

This was my last chance to get it right before the recital. Mr. Henderson encourages us to continue practicingdaily until the recital. He gives me helpful tips to keep inmind. I thank him and meet my mom at the front door.I’ve got my work cut out for me.75

The day of the recital, I’m so nervous. I peek through the curtains and see a room filled with people. My family is sitting close to the front. Dad has his camera phone ready to record. Olivia is there too, smiling from cheek to cheek. Mr. Henderson gives all the students a pep talk, before going out. “Just remember what we’ve been working on,” he says calmly. “Be confident out there. They won’t know you’ve messed up if you don’t show it.” Then he walks through the curtain to greet the audience. “There are many talented kids who will display their talents tonight. Some solos and some duets. They’veCHAPTER SEVENFingers Don’t Fail Me Now76

been working hard. You should be as proud of their progress as I am,” he said. Braxton and I are fourth on the list. While we wait to go on, I think of Kismet Kam. I start quietly repeating my phrase of positivity.77

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Everyone is doing well. The audience applauds afterevery performance. Soon, it’s our turn. After hearing the applause, we walk out to the bench. Mr. Hendersonintroduces us and the piece we’re playing. Once seated, we place our hands on the keys and Braxton starts. As we get further along, I feel nervous jitters. We’re getting close to the part where I usually mess up. I try hard to listen for the cheers, but I can’t hear anything except the negative thoughts. I can’t block out Judgmental Jack. Braxton is much better than you. You’re going to make mistakes. They’re growing louder and louder. Everyone will know you messed up. Your family will be disappointed. I may be young . . .79

I look back at the music and resume playingPlink-a-plink-a-plink-a-plunk-a-plank-a-plink-a-plurnk.80

Our performance is seemingly over as quickly as it began. When we get backstage, I apologize to Braxton for not staying focused. I hit a few wrong notes. I look into the audience, wondering if they noticed, but they are listening quietly. Behind me, I hear Mr. Henderson whisper, “Kamaal, it’s ok. Stay focused and keep playing.” “I’m sorry I stopped playing. I got nervous because I thought I was going to mess up. Then I did,” I admit. “It’s ok. You did better than usual! And I missed a few notes, too.” “You did?” I say in amazement. “I didn’t hear it.” “Yeah, it happens. I just kept playing, though,” he says. I replay the performance in my head and realize I did do better than usual. I didn’t miss as many notes this time.81

I think I started to block Jack out. It didn’t work all the way, though, because I didn’t stay positive and believe. Next time I’ll try harder. Once all the performances are done, everyone goes out on stage. We take individual bows, followed by a group bow. I’m scared to step forward for my individual bow, but when I do I receive a lot of applause. Olivia is whooping and hollering. I can’t wait to try again.82

Today I get answers to all my questions. I’ve been driving Mom and Ms. Beverly nuts asking questions about the focus group and now, finally, the day is here! I wish Dillon could’ve come, too, but it’s okay. Knowing Olivia will be with me keeps me calm. I hope we’re testing a new gamestation or bike. That would be awesome! My parents and I are sitting in a large room with dark windows. There are brightly colored chairs, and tables shaped like hands, holding bowls of snacks. My left hand is filled with pretzels and my right with M&Ms. A few other families trickle in before I see Olivia and her mom. SheCHAPTER EIGHTLast Piece of the Puzzle?83

skips over and takes a seat next to me. She is bouncing, wearing a huge smile, while my heart is racing. All I can do is continue stuffing my mouth. “Slow down,” exclaims Olivia as she reaches for my hand.I start to speak, but pretzel bits fly out of my mouth. She frantically swats to removethe bits from her hair.84

“Eww. Gross!” “Shorry,” I muffle while covering my mouth. When everyone has arrived, we are given instructions and led into a gigantic room. Olivia and I can’t believe our eyes. It’s a giant playground! This place has everything. There’s a double- wide slide, seesaws, a high tower, a tire swing, a merry-go-round, monkey bars, and a sandpit.85

“Let the fun begin!” someone yells over themicrophone. The adults take a seat on the benches surroundingthe play area and we kids take off running. Four of us can fit across the top of the slide at the same time. We hook our arms together, count to three, and push off. We end up in a pile at the bottom, giggling. The next time, we race to see who reaches the bottom first. I come in third. I run by the merry-go-round, thinking how much fun Dillon and I would have if he were here. We could make the merry-go-round our ship and pretend to be captainsstranded at sea. Right then I have an idea that stops me in my tracks.I stand there thinking for a few moments.86

Olivia’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Hurry! Let’s get on the tire swing,” she yells out. Before I know it, time is up, and we are all taken inside to another room. We’re given a piece of paper with questions and asked to share our thoughts and suggestions.87

I’m not sure I want to share the idea I got on the playground. What if it’s not good enough? What if they don’t like it? Then I stop. No, Judgmental Jack! I won’t listen to you. I take a long, deep breath. My dad’s voice rings in my ears. Believe in yourself and you’ll find your inner roar. Your voice. “Kismet Kam, I hope you’re in there!” I say softly. I pick up the pencil and start writing. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. As I continue, the flutters turn to rumbles and the rumbles to cheers. “You’re brilliant.” “Great idea.” “Woo-hoo, Kamaal.”88

The cheers grow louder and louder. It’s my inner roar! I write enough to fill the paper. When Olivia is done, we walk out together sharing what we wrote. I tell her everything. “I even drew a design of it,” I boasted. Olivia smiles at me. “It’s a great idea, Kamaal,” she says. “I’m glad you shared it instead of keeping it to your-self.89

CHAPTER NINEAn Unlocked Treasure Six months later, everyone who participated in the focus group is invited to a special, pre-opening celebration for the new playground. All of our close friends are invited, too. This time it’s outside at our community park. Mrs. Howard, the developer, thanks us for our honest feedback and suggestions. “There is one student I’d like to bring up here today,” she says. She scans the crowd and calls my name. “Kamaal Stevenson, will you please join me at the podium?” I freeze, but Olivia pinches me on my leg. “Go up there,” she nudges.90

I hastily jump up and walk toward the podium.91

“Kamaal helped us create something really special— something we would not have without his feedback. His idea sparked a larger idea that we are proud to unveil today.” Mrs. Howard reaches out and shakes my hand. “Thank you for sharing your brilliance and that lovely design. And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for . . .” I hop down from the platform and join my parents in the crowd. My mom is crying into my dad’s handkerchief. My dad gives me a thumbs up and puffs out his chest.92

Mrs. Howard approaches the large red ribbon that has been stretched across the entrance to the playground. From the crowd there is loud applause, hoots, and whistles. Olivia is the loudest one. “. . .welcome to the new Pin Deep Community Playground. The equipment you see allows able-bodied children and kids with physical disabilities to enjoy the same playground activities together. Kids it’s time to try it out. Have fun.”93

I run to the merry-go-round, with mom and dad following behind.94

“Look! They built a special merry-go-round forwheelchairs. That was my idea. It looks just like my design. Now Dillon and I can ride together.” Mrs. Howard approaches my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson. Your son has a brightfuture. Whatever you’re doing with him at home . . . keep it up.” As she walks away to speak to other families, Olivia runs over and gives me a big hug. “I’m so happy they chose your idea!” Dillon and his parents join us, too. “Kamaal, this was your idea?” Dillon asks in amazement. “Yes! We always say it’s unfair we can’t get on stuff together at the playground. I thought about that when theyasked for my opinion at the focus group. I had to tell them95

my ideas so they could create something we could both play on together.” He looks at me with a huge smile, then puts his fist out to Tip Tap Dap. “You always have the answer. This was the best idea ever!” he yells with excitement. Seeing how ecstatic Dillon is makes me happy. I’m proud of myself for sharing my idea. My dad leans over my shoulder. “I see you found your voice and it’s a mighty roar,” he whispers in my ear. “I can’t wait to see what you discov-er next.”96

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ABOUT THE AUTHORK. M. Blackwell has always dabbled in the arts to expressherself. From writing, playing the flute, singing, acting, toeven dancing (just a bit!), she’s always felt most herself andfree. She was born in Maryland where she still resides with herwonderful family. Her love and pursuit of the arts hasallowed her to travel all over the U.S. and Canada. A few ofher favorite things are: dogs, jazz, libraries, musicals,lemonade, and a cool breeze on a nice spring evening.98

THE ROAR INSIDE