“Okay, but you know she could just download it online,” I remind him.

They all look at me like I’m crazy. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this debate. Damn, I should have cut through the alley.

“You can’t hear the soul on that online music mess,” Mr. Herbert says. “You need to hear the soul in a song. You can only do that with an actual album.”

“Oh, leave the girl alone. She’s young; they into that ‘face novel’ thing,” Mr. Tillman says.

“That’s Facebook, Mr. Tillman,” I reply. “I can help you set up a profile if you want,” I tease, knowing he’d never agree to it.

“Me? Nah!” he says.

“I went on that thing the other day,” the oldest member, Mr. Barns, says. “It knew my brother’s birthday. How the hell it know that? Nah, I ain’t messing with it.” Then they all begin to speak at once about the evils of the internet.

“Okay, I will tell her you have the album she wants,” I promise them as I try to make my getaway. I’m not far from home now, and I need to go over my speech out loud. I don’t care if I look crazy doing it. I skip the Thomas Jefferson part and begin.

“Mom, I know how important See Us is, but I feel like I have done my part, and I want to explore— No, not explore—examine— No. Argh! What comes next?” I stop and take out my speech. I look it over again.

“Discover!” I shout once the speech is in hand. “I have done my part, and I want to discover what else is out there . . .”

I’m so into what I’m reading that it takes a while to realize someone is calling my name. I look up.

Devonte Evens.

Oh. My. God.

I’ve known Devonte since first grade. I shared my pudding cup with him. He smiled at me. It was magic. I thought our love would bloom from then on, but that never happened.

I know you’re not supposed to use the word “beautiful” when describing a guy, but there’s no other word that fits. Devonte Evens is beautiful. He’s tall and lean, with long eyelashes and a lethal smile. His eyes are amber and make you forget to breathe.

All the girls want him—even more so than they want Shawn. I’ve never seen him without a crowd around him. We’re actually dating—in my head. In real life, I didn’t even know he remembered my name until now.

He runs up to me armed with that smile. I try to convince my heart not to beat so fast, but it’s no longer taking suggestions from me. My hand grows ice cold, my mouth gets dry, and I don’t remember my name.