and six Black boys, and you think
the six of us are mugging him?”
The South Asian officer seems
familiar with Nathan:
“Firstly, this is not about race,
so you can get that particular chip
off your shoulder right now.
Secondly, this is not the first time
we’ve caught you out of school
when you’re not supposed to be.
I’m pretty sure seven of you
aren’t coming from the dentist.
That was your excuse last time,
wasn’t it, Nathan Anderson?”
Nathan looks at the ground.
“Allow us, man,” says Sam.
“We’re on our way back to school.”
“One of you can go back to school
and bring a teacher out here,” says the white officer.
“The rest of you will wait with us.”
The South Asian officer turns to his colleague,
perhaps with a stern or pleading look
because the white officer takes a step back.
The Asian officer turns to me.
He pulls out his notepad and pen.
“You. What’s your name, please?”
I search for my voice and find it:
“Malachi,” I say, trying not to cry.
He asks for my surname
and date of birth,
