“Yes, everything’s okay. I was just hoping I’d catch you on a break between classes—and I know, I know I’m only supposed to use my phone in emergencies, and this isn’t technically an emergency,” I say, talking fast before she has a chance to get upset with me. “But I wanted to see if I could go to my friend’s house after school because we’re working on a project for school that’s due, like, soon,” I lie. “It’s Macy, you know . . . Macy from my class,” I add, thinking of how Mama would be proud of me for finally making friends with her.

I wait as she sighs and tells me how I really need to start thinking ahead and managing my time better. She asks questions about whether Macy’s parent will be there and where Macy lives and when I’ll be home. I remind her that Macy and I wait at the same bus stop so that’s proof we live close enough to each other for me to be safe walking. She finally agrees.

Just as I hang up, the bell rings.

Macy and I walk together toward our classroom, but as we approach the spot where those two halls meet, my heart starts to beat faster. I don’t want to lie to Macy about where I’m going again.

I stop walking. “Macy, I have—”

“A lesson, right?” she finishes.

Moms would say I have nothing to be embarrassed about—everyone needs extra help with something—and I know even Mr. Patel would agree. But still, I nod and say, “Yeah. A lesson.”

Chapter 15

M.M.M.

Macy’s house is only a few minutes’ walk away from the bus stop, and only two streets over from where Jude used to live. I’m surprised I never saw Macy out around the neighborhood before, considering how close she lives.

“Shoes off, shoes off!” is the first thing I hear as I walk into Macy’s house. There is a mat next to the door that has several pairs of men’s dress shoes, and women’s sandals, and even a pair of bunny slippers sitting on it.

Macy drops her backpack to the floor and calls out, “I know.” She frowns at me, and whispers, “Sorry.” She wiggles her sneakers off without untying them and sets them neatly next to the other shoes. So I do the same.

“My moms have tried to institute a no-shoes rule in our house so many times,” I tell her. “But everyone’s always running around in such a hurry that they start forgetting.” I’m rambling. It’s always kind of a weird feeling when you go to someone’s house for the first time. I guess I must be a little nervous—it’s been a really long time since I went to anyone’s house for the first time. “It smells nice in here,” I continue.