We quickly get going to the red brick building on 152nd. The top layer of the building is in black and white and has a statute of a posing dancer. It’s gorgeous. We enter the lobby and look out at the large framed photographs of past and present company members. Someone on staff tells us that there is no show tonight, only rehearsals.

We tell them we have a project for school and just want to take a look around. They say no. We start to plead with them, but then another staff member enters the lobby. She takes one look at me and says, “You’re Rosalie’s daughter, right?” Her name is Jennifer, and her whole family is a part of See Us. She tells us we can look around for as long as we want.

“But you can’t go upstairs—that’s where we hold classes,” she warns us.

I see what I’m looking for directly across from us—an exquisite portrait of Arthur Mitchell midleap. We head straight for it. And when Jennifer’s back is turned, I take a peek behind the large painting.

“I see it!” I whisper to the team.

“A key?” Dell asks.

“No, an envelope. The key has to be inside,” I reply as I stretch as far as I can to retrieve the envelope that is taped to the back.

We thank Jennifer and quickly run out of the building. My hands are shaking as we stand outside and look down at the white envelope. “Hurry, open it! It’s cold,” Dell says. I swallow hard and rip it open. The first thing I see are torn pages ripped from a journal. In addition to a black antique key and small white business card. I want to dive into everything all at once. But I know my mom. I know she arranged things in the exact order she wants me to view them. So, I start in with the first thing she placed for me to find—the journal.

March 15, 1988

My mama gave me this book and said I could write anything I want. She even said I could cuss in it! But something about the way she said it told me I better not. She said I’m supposed to start with “Dear Diary.” But I don’t know anyone named “Diary,” so why I wanna write to her for? Instead, I’m writing to my favorite superstar—Janet Jackson!

Dear Janet,

My brother Ty thinks he’s all grown up because he’s turning fifteen and he won’t hang out with me as much anymore. I told him I’m grown too. But he says ten ain’t as grown as fifteen. Ty isn’t a bad brother. He helps me with my homework, we play cards sometimes, and he won’t let anyone on the block step to me.