Stay on Your Square

The first backpack was for school.

The second was for what might happen.

Malik Bishop had packed both before the sun came all the way up. He placed them side by side at the foot of his grandmother’s sofa and checked them twice, although only one contained anything a seventh grader was supposed to need.

The school bag held four composition books, three sharpened pencils, a calculator, a pack of gum he had not told his grandmother about, and a folder already bent at one corner. The other held a T-shirt, clean socks, underwear, a toothbrush, and the phone charger that usually stayed beside his bed.

He had left room for a sweatshirt.

It was August in Durham. Nobody needed a sweatshirt.

That was not the point.

His grandmother found him on the porch tying his shoes with the second backpack between his feet.

Mrs. Bishop stood in the doorway wearing a blue housecoat and the expression she used when she had already decided something but was willing to let him discover it slowly.

“You don’t need the second one.”

Malik pulled the lace tighter.

“You said pack for what might happen.”