“Yeah, which is so dumb, because the Y is the best place in our neighborhood with stuff for kids to do when they’re out of school. There are hundreds of kids that wanted up in there. Twenty?! Yeah, right.”

“So you went door-to-door in the neighborhood.”

I laugh because I know where this is going. We needed more volunteers or paid staff to accommodate more kids. I wasn’t just gonna let them be stuck. If they needed a place to go in lieu of school, I was gonna make sure they had one. I ended up with seventy-three signatures and a hefty donation from a church in the neighborhood. By midsummer we had classes for two-hundred-something kids from East Row. They kept the program going through the year after school, too.

“Them kids ain’t no different from these people here. You see a need and you fill it. That’s just who you are. Even if it takes sore feet, sleepless nights. You damn near missed your SAT test for that grassroots campaigning you had going.”

“Correction, I did miss. I had to reschedule, and you know them waivers ain’t guaranteed. Moms was not happy ’bout that. But the kids… it was worth it.”

“Rue, that’s why it’s hundreds of people down there riding with you. Because that heart you got”—he touches my chest—“shines through.”

A bright star catches my eye. It stands out so radiantly, I hardly notice the jagged building tops and biting chill in the air. “You always know what to say. Thanks for coming through, foreal.”

“Don’t act like I can’t throw hands,” he says.

“Mhmm.” Last fight I saw Jue in was in sixth grade, and he didn’t get one lick in, but I’ma let him make it. He’s always had to bolster himself up, make himself seem tough, so he didn’t get picked on. I never dealt with that, but Tasha did. So I get it.

He sucks his teeth.

“Don’t act like when you was slinging, you weren’t also hiding calculus flash cards from the bruhs. The crew you was running with had you in deep, fast, because they saw how charismatic and”—I gesture—“sagacious you are. You got them brains, boi.” I push against him.

He laughs into his fist. “Aight, facts.”

“I’m just saying… that’s your magic and it’s okay to lean into it. So I’ma do the fighting out here. That’s not why I brought you here.” He says nothing for several moments. He’s chewing. I can practically hear his brain whirring, digesting my protest of his obligatory masculinity. The box the world wants to put him in because he has gold teeth, a du-rag, and baggy jeans. Fuck that.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jue,” I say, lying against his shoulder.

“Me too.”