“I’m not,” Dell confirms. “But I know a lot of niggas with time on their hands and no conscience. Let’s do this!”

“The hell we sit’n here for? Let’s go get him,” Shawn snaps.

“No! I don’t want anything to happen to him,” Nai says.

“Fine, but you have to tell your mom,” I insist.

“I can’t say anything. She’s in love with him. He makes her happy. I don’t want to be the one that takes that away from her. Ayo, you took a big risk, telling your mom how you felt. But I’m not like you. I can’t take that risk,” she says, crying into my chest.

Damn . . .

While we don’t have a plan for how to fix things for Naija, the guys and I know one thing for sure—there’s no way she’s going back in that house until that piece of trash is gone. The guys also told her that she could stay with them. They each volunteered to give up their rooms and even let her get a lock if it would make her feel safe. She thanked them, cried a little more, and ate the Double Stuf Oreos. It could be in my head, but I swear Dell is looking at her a type of way . . .

I can’t bring that up now. Naija is exhausted. The guys insist on walking us back to my house. Before we say good night, Naija makes us promise not to tell her mom or anyone else. I nod, but I’m not sure what the right thing to do is in this situation. We enter my house and head for the stairs.

“How was the party?” my mom asks.

I didn’t think she’d be home, given that the protest is right around the corner. I assumed she’d be in a meeting or an interview.

“You’re home?” I reply.

“I’m going back to headquarters. I just wanted to come by and make sure you girls were good—Naija, what’s wrong?” she asks as she studies my best friend closely.

Nai shakes her head, swearing nothing is wrong. That won’t work with my mom.

“Your eyes are swollen. Were you crying? Lord, don’t tell me some ashy li’l boy done broke your heart.”

Naija runs up the steps, sobbing.

“What is going on?” my mom asks.

“Um . . . it’s bad. Like, really bad. But I told her I wouldn’t say anything.”

She nods. “Okay. You want to be a young lady who keeps her word. I get that. But if it’s that bad, then I will have to know. So you can tell me or I can go up there and find out. Either way, I can’t let that child spend the night crying and not know why.”

I exhale, not sure what to do. “Have you hung out with Naija’s mom lately?”