Black Boy Joy: 17 Stories Celebrating Black Boyhood - Hardcover

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Kwame Mbalia is a husband, father, writer, #1 New York Times bestselling author, and former pharmaceutical metrologist, in that order. He is the author of the Tristan Strong trilogy, The Last Gate of the Emperor duology, and Black Boy Joy—an anthology of 17 stories celebrating Black boyhood. His work has received numerous starred reviews and a Coretta Scott King honor. A Howard University graduate and a Midwesterner now in North Carolina, Kwame survives on dad jokes and Cheez-Its.

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There’s Going to Be a Fight in the Cafeteria on Friday and You Better Not Bring Batman 

By Lamar Giles 

**Batman (perma-banned)** 

Spider-Man 

Captain America 

Superman 

War Machine 

Wonder Woman 

Thor 

Iron Man 

The Hulk 

The Winter Soldier 

The Flash 

Wolverine 

Doctor Strange 

Thanos 

Black Panther

The school bus squealed to a stop at the corner by Cornell’s house. Other kids from the neighborhood got off, but he was too busy rereading that stupid list to notice. Black Panther gone. Superman gone. The Hulk-- 

“Cornell!” Mr. Jeffries shouted from the driver’s seat. “You ain’t about to have me doubling back because you missed your stop again. Pay attention!” 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Cornell scooted from his seat and brushed past his laughing schoolmates, including Amaya Arnold. Amaya was more giggling than laughing, and Cornell could tell she wasn’t being mean. Actually, her giggle was kind of pretty. Almost as pretty as her. 

But he wasn’t brave enough to look her way too long, so his eyes wandered . . . to Tobin Pitts. Who was staring at him. Hard. 

Tobin swiped his red bangs away from his eyes and freckled forehead. “Hope you’re ready.” 

Cornell shook his head and exited the bus with that stupid list taking up the space in his head he’d rather reserve for Amaya. 

But, unless she got superpowers before lunch tomorrow, she wasn’t going to be much help.

The cars in the driveway told Cornell everyone was home except Mom, who was still on the West Coast for her business trip. He weaved between Carter’s beat-up burgundy Chevy “starter car,” Dad’s might-be-time-for-an-upgrade-if-he-can-convince-Mom black Audi, and Pop-Pop’s classics-are-the-way-to-go baby blue Cadillac until he reached the side door. He removed the lanyard from his neck where his single silver key dangled and jiggled it in the knob. 

Before she left, Mom had told them all, “Don’t think because I’m away it’s supposed to be Bruhs Gone Wild. I want this house looking like humans live here when I get back.” 

Inside, the funky-ripe smell of the overfull kitchen trash can suggested they had work to do. 

First things first, though. “Carter! Hey, Carter! I need your help.” 

Cornell’s brother wasn’t in the kitchen, and the house wasn’t shaking from rap bass, so he probably wasn’t in his bedroom. Cornell rushed through the dining room, scooted by Mom’s home office, cut through the foyer, kicked his shoes off before stepping into the living room no one ever sat in, and came to a skidding stop at the den, where he found his brother on the wraparound couch with a guest. 

“Hi,” Cornell said, surprised. 

The girl gushed. “Oh, you must be Carter’s brother!” 

She had dark brown skin, supercool red-framed glasses, and an Afro puff on each side of her head. She reminded Cornell of Amaya. Her jean jacket had a bunch of buttons pinned to the collar and pockets. Cornell leaned forward, trying to read some--black lives matter; love is love--when Carter reminded them he was in the room. “Whatchu need, Lil’ Man?” 

Cornell’s chin jerked up. Carter never called him “Lil’ Man” before. Also, “Why’s your voice sound like that?” 

Carter coughed and cleared his throat. The weird deepness became his normal little-bit-whiny voice. “We’re studying.” 

The girl told Carter, “Hey, I want you to introduce me to this little cutie.” 

Cornell smiled. “Thank you!” 

Mom taught him how to take a compliment. 

Carter . . . was not smiling. “Raven, that’s Cornell. Cornell, Raven. What. Do. You. Want?” 

“Oh, right!” Cornell fished the list from his back pocket and hopped over the back of the couch. It was a nimble leap. He landed right between the study buddies. 

Raven clapped like Cornell had done some YouTube-level parkour. Carter stared, his face twitching in a super weird way. He was probably just focusing real hard so he could be as helpful as possible, Cornell figured. 

“There’s this thing that happens in the cafeteria on Fridays,” Cornell said, “where everyone gathers around and argues about which superheroes can do what. Sometimes it’s just about who’s better, and sometimes it’s about who would beat who in a fight. It’s a big thing. Anyway, my name got pulled out the hat again, so I have to go tomorrow, except I can’t use any of the characters on this list because--” 

Carter stood up. 

Oh.

Maybe he thought better on his feet. 

“Come with me.” Carter left the room. 

Cornell hopped off the couch and waved bye to Raven.

He found Carter in the kitchen, leaning on the fridge, his face tight. “Do you see what’s happening out there?” 

“Yeah, you’re studying with Raven.” 

Carter’s chest heaved. He snatched the paper from Cornell’s hand. “Gimme that list.” 

“Rude.”

His eyebrows rose. “Batman’s perma-banned?” 

“Yep. Everyone thinks he’s overrated. Plus, it’s not cool how he practices his karate on, like, his neighbors.” 

“True. Don’t even get me started on him fighting Superman. I mean, an orbital blast of Heat Vision beats a stupid bat-shaped boomerang any day of the week.” 

“That’s what I said.”

Carter’s mouth screwed up. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand. “You need a super who’s not on this list?” 

“No!” Cornell got to the really alarming part he was trying to explain on the couch. “I need three. Tomorrow’s category is Battle Royale Trios.” 

“Y’all have categories? That is weirdly precise.” He seemed impressed. 

“It’s the last debate before school’s out and I always lose. Help. Me.” 

“Okay, okay.” Carter cracked the fridge, grabbed three ginger ales in the glass bottles that Dad liked while he contemplated the list. 

Cornell plucked the magnetized bottle opener from the fridge door and popped the caps off. He liked the clinking noise they made when they hit the granite counter.

“Can’t use Black Panther?” Carter said. 

“Naw.” 

“Luke Cage?” 

Cornell pointed to the back of the sheet. Luke Cage had already been used in a previous battle, too. 

“Black Green Lantern?” 

Cornell chewed his lip. “Someone used a white Green Lantern before, so since they’re both Green Lantern, it might not work.” 

“That’s trash,” Carter said, but moved on. “You really gotta know your stuff to work these rules. Okay, seems to me you need a pretty versatile team to be safe. Someone techy. Someone magic. Maybe some kind of wild card. Like a telepath, or a teleporter.” 

“If Shuri or Riri Williams isn’t on the list, you’ve still got good techy options.” Raven stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the den, obviously...