Nightmare Fuel
The Knowing
“Some people think knowing is power. But Mama doesn’t feel that way, not at all. A curse, she calls it.”
Our teacher said one day that knowledge is power, and I had to raise my hand, even though I don’t like to; I like to sit and be quiet and watch people and wait for lunchtime. But I had to ask him if he was sure about that, or if maybe knowledge isn’t just a curse. He asked me what I meant by that, and I said, “Hey, that’s what my mama always says.” Knowing is her curse, she whispers, touching my forehead at night softly with her long fingers, like spiders’ legs. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and she’s there whispering and rocking me. But I didn’t tell my teacher that part. I could tell from the way my teacher looked at me sideways and went on with his lesson that he thought I was trying to be a smart-ass. People always think you’re something you don’t want to be. Mama says that, too.
I like this school in Chicago all right because my math teacher is real pretty, with long legs and a smile that means what it says. But me and Mama won’t be here long. I know that already. I was in six different schools last year. It’s always the same; one day I walk into wherever we’re staying and she looks up at me through her cigarette smoke and says, “Throw your things in a…
