“It’s still awkward, but it’s getting better. He had this life planned out for me, and now he has to adjust. Big adjustment,” Shawn says anxiously.

“He can do it. You know how parents are—we have to be patient with them,” I joke.

I flash back to the huge argument I had with my mom. The words come back and haunt me in ways I couldn’t see coming.

“Fine, Mom, I’ll do exactly as you say. But just tell me this: I’ve been a soldier in the Rosalie Bosia army all my life. When is my contract up? Or better yet, how much? How much will it take to be free of you?”

I wanted to be free of her and now I am, maybe forever. I choke back tears and prevent them from spilling over. But the lump in my throat isn’t as easily managed.

He smiles. “You ready for the second set of clues?”

“Yes! I need to find out what makes my mom so tough. And maybe I can use that for myself.”

“If you become any more like her, we won’t be able to tell you two apart.”

Nai and Dell enter together—holding hands. Our jaws drop. Well, I guess its official; Nai and Dell are a thing! I take out the small white envelope and read the contents out loud to everyone.

Key #2

I was born to no one.

I taught him French; he showed us Evidence of Things Not Found.

My Incident is set in stone.

My mind is racing and my heart is pounding. I know one part of the phrase, “Evidence of Things Not Found,” refers to one of James Baldwin’s essays. So, we decide to start there. We look to see who taught Baldwin French, but nothing comes up.

Damn!

We try to pull the clues apart. We look up the words “I was born to no one.” But nothing useful comes up. It’s not a poem or an essay. We do searches using variations on the phrase and get nothing.

“Maybe we’re overthinking it. ‘Born to no one’—that could simply mean he was an orphan,” Dell suggests.

“Yes! That could work. So an orphan who worked with Baldwin,” Nai replies.

“Guys, look at the word ‘incident.’ It’s capitalized. It’s not just a word, it’s a title,” I shout. “Duh! It’s a poem by Countee Cullen.”

“And you just happen to know that?” Shawn asks.

“Ah, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”

They all roll their eyes at me, signaling that I am alone on this one.

We dig a little more and find out that Cullen used to teach at Frederick Douglass Junior High, where he taught Baldwin as a kid. It all fits.

“So the answer is Countee Cullen?” Dell asks.

“Yes, and I know exactly where to find the next key!” I reply.