Ship of Souls

my mom—she’s Bangladeshi. So in our house there are lots of different spices and different ways of preparing food.”
    “Fusion.”
    “What?” Keem glares at me like I’ve just said “phooey.”
    “Fusion,” I explain. “That’s what they call food that blends different traditions.” Mom used to take me to this Ethiopian-Cuban place in the city. That was the best food I ever had! But I don’t want to think about my mother right now. I don’t need to start blubbering in front of this jock.
    “Oh, I get it.” Keem relaxes and starts doodling on a blank page in his notebook. “Well, I figure if ballin’ doesn’t work out, I could always open my own restaurant and serve all different kinds of food—maybe soul food but with an African or Asian twist. And no swine.”
    “You’re making me hungry,” I say with a grin. Keem almost laughs, and we turn our attention back to his test.
    To my surprise, it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. “Half of these answers are almost right, you know.”
    Keem frowns. “You don’t get points for being ‘almost’ right.”
    “I know. But see this problem? You got ninety percent of it right. It’s just the last step you messed up. I can teach you that in, like, five minutes. If you’d solved these four problems, your grade would have been a B instead of a D.”
    Keem stares at the red X marks on his test. “For real?”
    This is my moment to shine. “For real. Here—let me show you a little trick I learned in math club.”
    When our hour is up, Keem shoves his books into his bag and slaps a ten-dollar bill on the table. “Thanks,” he says before getting up and heaving the bag onto his back. “See you on Thursday?”
    “Sure,” I say. Keem nods, tucks his basketball under his arm, and walks out of the library without saying another word. I pick up the money and stare at it for a moment. Mom would want me to put it in the bank, but right now I’m thinking about getting a couple slices and a can of soda. Without Mom around, there’s probably not much chance of me going to college, anyway.
    I leave the library and head straight for the pizza joint. In my head I’m doing the math: twenty bucks a week times however long it takes to get Keem’s grades up. Three weeks? Ten? Maybe the rest of the school year?
    By the time my slices come out of the oven, I’ve already figured out how to spend the money I’ll make as a tutor. I’m so into my dreams and schemes that I don’t see this jerk Selwyn standing outside. Selwyn’s in the sixth grade, too, but he isn’t supposed to be. Mom always told me to watch out for kids who got left back. Most of them are all right, she said, but sometimes they turn into crabs in a barrel, willing to drag down anyone who’s on his way up. Selwyn’s that kind of kid.
    “Hey, look who it is—the brainiac. You smart enough to get the special?”
    “Yeah,” I say warily.
    “Good—that’s one slice for me and one for my boy.” Selwyn grabs the paper bag holding my food. I don’t let go at first, but I’ve got five dollars left in my pocket and don’t plan to get my butt kicked by two kids over some pizza. Selwyn tugs the bag a bit harder and I let go. “Thanks, geek,” he says with an ugly sneer.
    “Hey!”
    All of us turn and see Keem coming out of a nearby bodega with a brown-bagged drink. He casually twists the cap off the bottle and tosses it into a wire trash bin on the corner. “Where you going with my food? D—didn’t I tell you to get me two slices?”
    It takes me a couple of seconds to understand what Keem’s doing, but as soon as I figure it out, I slip into my assigned role. “Uh—yeah, Keem. And I did, but…these guys said they’re hungry, too.” I look at Selwyn and force my lips not to curl up into a smug smile.
    “He’s with you?” Selwyn asks, amazed.
    “Yeah,” Keem replies, standing real close so his height is more intimidating. “He’s with me.”
    Selwyn waits for the punch line but then realizes Keem’s for real. And with those three words ( he’s with me ), I go from being prey to being protected property. I’m untouchable now!
    I can’t help but smirk a little as Selwyn hands me back my food and shuffles off with his boy, leaving me alone with Keem.
    “You all right?” Keem asks in his usual flat tone.
    I just nod since I’m not quite able to look Keem in the eye. “Thanks,” I mumble and extend the bag holding my pizza. “Want a slice?”
    “Nah.” Keem