I had time to do it. Jannie was typically put together in a gray T with "Aero Athletics 1987" printed in bright red letters, sweatpant capris with a red stripe down each leg, and white Adidas sneakers with red stripes. As for me, I was feeling good. Every now and again someone would still stop me and say I looked like the young Muhammad Ali. I knew how to shake off the compliment, but I liked to hear it more than I let on. "You're awfully quiet this morning, Poppa," Jannie laced her arms around my free arm and said. "You having trouble at school? Your orientation? Do you like being an FBI agent so far?" "I like it fine," I said. "There's a probationary period for the next two years. Orientation is good, but a lot of it is repetitive for me, especially what they call 'practicals.' Firing range, gun cleaning, exercises in apprehending criminals. That's why I get to go in late some days." "So you're the teacher's pet already," she said, and winked. I laughed. "I don't think the teachers are too impressed with me, or any other street cops. How're you and Damon doing so far this year? Aren't you about due for a report card or something?" Damon shrugged. "We're acing everything. Why do you want to change the subject all the time when it's on you?" I nodded. "You're right. Well, my schooling is going fine. Eighty is considered a failing grade at Quantico. I expect to ace most of my tests." "Most?" Jannie arched an eyebrow and gave me one of Nana Mama's "perturbed" looks. "What's this most stuff? We expect you to ace all your tests." "I've been out of school for a while." "No excuses." I fed her one of her own lines. "I'm doing the best I can, and that's all you can ask from somebody." She smiled. "Well, all right, then, Poppa. Just as long as the best you can do puts all As on your next report." About a block from the school I gave Jannie and Damon their hugs - so as not to embarrass them, God forbid, in front of all their cool-ass friends. They hugged me back and kissed their little brother, and then off they ran.