But this time, when she gets to the end, she doesn’t talk about how it was probably for the best or that it was God’s plan, like she usually does. Instead, Ms. Hightower gets this pained, faraway look on her face and says, “Sometimes I think the devil had twin babies, one named Fear and the other named Regret. They both ugly and they both scare me. But no matter how big a monster Fear is, Regret is a real mother . . .”

The sadness etched on Ms. Hightower’s face stays with me even after I get home. She wanted something so badly, and yet she let the chance just pass her by. I don’t want that to happen to me. I will not give up on trying to convince my mom to let me go. In fact, I’m gonna talk to her right now.

I walk up the steps to her bedroom. I’m about to knock on her bedroom door when I overhear her on the phone. She’s talking to my uncle Ty.

“No, I’m not making too much out of this, Ty . . . Ayo wants to set fire to everything I have built for her. This isn’t the girl I raised. I’m so . . . disappointed.”

It’s one thing to think you disappointed your parent, but it’s another to hear them say it out loud. A big lump forms in my throat and tears flood my eyes. I feel like someone stabbed me in the heart.

Someone did: my best friend. My mom.

I lean against the wall just outside her bedroom, too shocked to move. My cell vibrates. I look at the screen.

What up, it’s Devonte. Naija gave me your number. Hope that’s cool. Did you get your mom to sign the paper?

I look at the text and, suddenly, what was once sorrow and despair is replaced by anger and resentment. What’s the point of trying to please her anymore? She wants to be disappointed in me? Then fine, I’ll give her a reason to really be disappointed.

I march back downstairs to the living room and pick up the letter Devonte gave me. I scribble my mother’s name on the dotted line and text Devonte:

Yeah, we good. She signed.

Chapter Five

A Warning

The first sound I hear when I wake up is one that is very familiar to me—the sound of Mom putting out fires. It doesn’t matter how well a march is planned; there are always last-minute things that go awry. And now that the How Much? march is only four days away, naturally things are coming apart. But in the end, everything will come together perfectly; Rosalie Bosia would have it no other way.