8 Sklippie
“Why can’t I be the flag-bearer?” Sklippie asked, disappointed.
His teacher bit her lip and looked away. “Well… It’s that… Look, the other kid’s parents want a Greek boy to carry the flag, because it’s a national celebration you see.”
“And what am I?” the black boy asked.
“Look, Asklepios. Remember last year when you scored first in class again, and we made you flag-bearer?”
“Yeah, miss.”
“Well, remember when the parents didn’t let their kids show up at the parade? Wasn’t that sad?” The teacher glanced towards Mr. Papadopoulos and his son. The father was fat and bald, and the son was a tiny version of him.
“Yes, miss…” Sklippie looked down at his feet.
“We don’t want people missing the parade, do we? Why put a wedge in the celebration when we can simply have someone else
