“You know what the funny thing is?” Q shakes his head, claps his hands. “I’m not mad at you. Even though you punked out when I needed you most. Despite the fact that during the worst days of my life, you couldn’t even text an o and k.” Q laughs. “Nah. I’m more pissed at me. That I was stupid enough to waste all those years with you. That even when it was beyond clear to everyone else in the world that you weren’t gonna show up, I was still dumb enough to believe you were on your way.” Q takes a step toward us. “So, you wanna know what my problem is? It was you, Jamal,” he says, jabbing his finger into my chest. “But you aren’t my problem now. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

And I’m stunned.

And I’m so angry my chest hurts.

And I can’t form a single, solid word, everything in me transformed, evaporated into steam and heat. I don’t register the crowd of kids watching from the embankment, their faces in various states of what the—

I know that Autumn’s gripping my wrist.

I know her friends have materialized behind her.

I reach for Q, without even knowing why.

Without knowing what I’d do if he stopped.

Knowing that if Q really wanted, he could javelin me to the moon.

But he pushes through me, his fingers flicking me away like I’m fuzz.

Like I’m nothing, and less.

92

And I’m sliding my hands up Autumn’s arms, asking her if she’s okay, telling her how sorry I am, does she want a drink, does she want to leave, is she cold, and I wonder if she feels me trembling.

She answers three or four times before I actually hear her.

A rogue raindrop bull’s-eyes my forehead, the sky a purple-black bruise.

“Do you wanna go?” she asks, dangling her keys.

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe.”

She slaps them into my palm.

My eyebrows raise. “You’re not coming?”

“I’ll get a ride.”

“I can wait. If you wanna stay longer, it’s cool.”

I lean in for a hug, but it’s like embracing an armchair.

“You okay?” I ask again.

“Of course she’s not okay,” one of her friends says. “She was just embarrassed in front of the whole school, and you just let it happen.”

I tilt my jaw. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Defend your girl’s honor,” she shoots back.

I turn back to Autumn. Waiting for her to defend my honor. But she won’t even hold my gaze. I try to lead her to privacy a few feet away, but she’s not budging. “Autumn,” I say softly. “Can we please talk?”

Normally, she’d take my face between her palms, kiss my forehead, my nose. Our eyes locked, she’d say, me and you no matter what.