“It’s all right, Mom. We can go another time.” I kissed her cheek and turned off her light before backing away. “Do you need anything? I’ll get it before I go to school. Or if you need me to stay home, I can. With Dad in Chicago, one of us should be with you.”

“No, no, you go to school. I’ll be fine in a few hours.” Her eyes scanned my face lovingly. “Thank you for understanding, l’venok. I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You can’t help that you’re sick. I love you, Mom. You being okay is more important.”

Outside her room, I picked up the consent form and crushed it into a ball. As I entered my bedroom, I tossed it into the wastebasket and grabbed my phone and backpack. It was too early to call Nova and let her know I couldn’t make it for her birthday, but I knew I had to tell her.

Downstairs, Ciana was waiting with Vito and Bennie. Zayne and Zariah had already left since they were in middle school, and that was in the opposite direction of ours. Vito and Bennie were in kindergarten, which had its own private wing and entrance, but the four of us always rode together every morning.

Zio Ciro hustled us outside and into the back of the limo, where two guards were already waiting with the door open. While the twins argued and played tug-of-war with the strap of Bennie’s backpack, Zio scrolled through his emails. I sat against the door, frowning out at the passing scenery, wondering what I could tell Nova that would keep her from being upset that we wouldn’t see each other as I’d promised.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ciana muttered beside me, keeping her voice low so only I could hear her. “You look sad. I don’t like it.”

“I can’t visit Nova this weekend,” I answered back just as low.

Her eyes widened but filled with sympathy. She knew how hard it had been for me when Nova had left that first time, and then when I got back from visiting her for my birthday this year. She’d tried to cheer me up, but nothing had worked because the only thing that could make it better was Nova. All I thought about all day, every day, was if she was safe. Was she happy, or had someone made her cry? Did she miss me as much as I missed her? Then at the end of the day, I saw her smiling face via video call, and all those worries faded.

“I’m sorry,” my cousin whispered. “Is there something I can do?”

I shook my head. “It will be okay. Mom promised we would go for Christmas.”

Ciana gave my arm a squeeze. “Well, if you need to talk, I’m here.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Ciana.”

She rested her head on my arm the rest of the way to school, offering me comfort in the only way she knew I would accept, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest and throat. The limo pulled up in front of our school to drop the two of us off first before the driver would move along the path to the back entrance for the kindergartners.