Simon B. Rhymin'

CHAPTER 1

IT’S SIMON BARNES HERE. BUT EVERYBODY calls me the Notorious D.O.G., because I might be little but I’ve got a loud bark. Okay, not true. No one calls me the Notorious D.O.G. yet. But they might one day when I’m a famous Chicago rapper like Kanye West or Chance the Rapper. Everybody from the Chi knows about them. For now, I’m stuck with the nickname Rhymin’ Simon, which my brother DeShawn gave me when I was five because I learned to rhyme and went kind of crazy with it. Not too long after, I did my first remix to the itsy bitsy spider song and my rhymes were extra basic.

Those rhymes were cool back then, but, uh, I’m ready for something a little more tough, especially now that I’m eleven. The Notorious D.O.G. is something I’m trying out. It feels more like the older me.

I spent the whole weekend getting ready for fifth grade at Booker T. Washington Elementary School, where, this year, my class will be the oldest in the whole school. The first day is tomorrow, and I don’t really feel ready for all this. On TV commercials, they show kids cheesin’ real hard, happy to buy school supplies and new pairs of jeans. But don’t they know that school means sitting still for hours and hours while the teacher is just talking at you about boring stuff, saying goodbye to playing Fortnite, and having to give up watching weird videos on YouTube? Goodbye to heating up pizza rolls whenever I feel like it and getting blue snow cones with DeShawn from the neighborhood ice cream truck, when he feels like splitting his time between me and his high school homies.

My mom is trying to give me a pep talk while we shop for some new clothes at Target. I usually wear hand-me-downs from my three older brothers, but my dad says Every rising middle schooler deserves some fresh threads for school. So, while I’m in a tiny red changing room putting on pairs of cargo pants among my big ol’ pile of graphic tees and joggers, Mom tries to boost me up with her mom-knows-best motivational speech.

“C’mon, Simon. This year is gonna be everything. All your brothers had a ball in fifth grade. For real. Remember when Markus won that Invention Convention? He was so excited! Plus, you’re gonna be the oldest kids in the school. Everybody will be looking up to you now!” Mom’s voice sails over the tall fitting room door while other parents help their kids pull together outfits they won’t have to fight about.

“Yeah, but I’ll still be the shortest, Ma,” I grumble, noticing that the pants she picked out for me have about four extra inches of fabric bunched up at the bottom.

“Short is a mind-set, Simon. To me, you’re a million feet tall.”

“Stop letting those fools test you,” she says, doing her best to put extra bass in her voice. I can’t help but laugh to myself.

I look in the mirror and think my favorite vintage Chicago Bulls T-shirt doesn’t look half bad with the rolled-up cargos and new Nike Air Maxes we bought yesterday. Not all the way Notorious, but hey, it’s a start. I know they’ll see me in this.

On our way home from Target, we run into my best friend Maria Rivera and her grandma, Ms. Estelle, in the parking lot. I don’t think Estelle is her last name, but that’s what everybody be callin’ her. Maria yells my name too loud, surprising me, just as Mom and I finish throwing all my bags into the trunk. I jump, but only a little, cuz Notorious D.O.G. ain’t never scared! I’ve been friends with Maria since the first grade. Sometimes we call her Ri-Ri because Rihanna is her favorite celebrity. My brothers call her Big Ol’ Mouth because we always know what she’s thinking about and nobody ever has more questions than her. But I like that she always knows what’s going on, even when I don’t.

“Oh em GEEEE, SIMON! You ready for tomorrow? I heard our new teacher is really hard. Not strict like Mrs. Wright, but hard, like gives real work and actually makes us do it! Camille said she had a big project to do in the very first week of school last year,” Maria says, pushing up her pink-rimmed glasses, squirming and waving her hands around in the air. I know it’s a new pair cuz I’ve never seen these ones before, but they’re too big just like all her other ones. None of her glasses ever fit enough to stay on her face. She’s talking about school the same way she talks about everything else she’s too hype about—as if she was telling me about some new sneakers or something. I wish that’s what she really was telling me about. Camille is Maria’s older sister, who’s in middle school now and the source of a lot of Maria’s info. I’m still not convinced that means we should believe her.

“Maria, ay Dios mío! Don’t bother Simon with your silly gossip, now,” Ms. Estelle says, dragging Maria toward the Target entrance. Maria has lived down the street from us since before I knew her, so we’re always running into each other when she’s out with her grandma shopping. “Just look at him. He looks like he’s seen a fantasma from new school years past,” she jokes, laughing at my blank face.

“Simon don’t look like he’s seen a ghost, ’Buela! That’s just his face sometimes. He’s probably just constipated,” Maria says, flashing me an annoying smile while jabbing me in the shoulder. Instead of being quiet like most people, Maria makes up embarrassing stories about people to make herself laugh. She knows it’s okay to do it to me but she’d never let somebody else embarrass me like that. “I’m not bothering him. We been talking about it all summer. Right, Simon? It’s called the Freedom of Information Act, ’Buela. I make sure he knows what’s up.” Maria rolls her eyes at her grandma and waves a quick goodbye to me and Mom. I watch Ms. Estelle go off on her in Spanish while she skips toward the door like she’s never seen a cloud in the sky.

As Mom and I get out of the car to walk toward our apartment building after unloading all my new school clothes, I can feel the butterflies floatin’ around all crazy in my stomach. I’m not ready for us to be doin’ nothin’ too major in the first week of school. What if we have to get up in front of everybody?! Even though I can rap all I want at home, I just know I can’t do anything like that in front of a whole classroom full of other kids. They all gon’ be lookin’ at me weird. Last time I tried to talk to a whole bunch of people, the room got spinny, my hands got sweaty, and I felt like I was gon’ blow chunks all over the place! I guess even the Notorious D.O.G. can get the back-to-school, Sunday night blues.