In the square, we all said “on the ten,” even Precious, who was nearly a pastor’s kid. I just flipped back and forth to cut down on lectures. Tonya repeated what Mama said, then we left to take her home. We walked down the dark hall using years of familiarity to guide us. It was especially eerie with no sound. Through the gate, staring at us, you could make out traces of 4946, the side where the wrecking ball had started crushing it only two months before barely visible. While it was difficult to see the building clearly with no lights downstairs, we could feel it out there in the darkness, the wind whipping the caution tape wrapped around its opening. I stared over there and something strange happened: I saw a flash of light. I blinked my eyes a few times, thinking I was seeing things, then it happened again, this time four flashes.

People had been moving out of there all school year, leaving Farren in chunks. New kids got dumped into our school from the other projects that hadn’t closed yet. Now 4946 looked like a haunted house, about three floors busted wide-open. We walked to the elevator, which was powered by a generator, and it came right away. When the door opened, we squinted at the bright light inside. On the tenth floor, Tonya spun around and said, “I’m okay,” like Mama would let her walk to her apartment in the dark, alone. Mama nudged us off the elevator, and said, “Come on.”

She lived in our exact apartment. We stayed in 310, she was in 1010. I was so excited to meet her mama, and to see what her apartment looked like, because I figured her mama would invite us in and talk to Mama. I bounced down the porch, not paying any attention to Tonya’s body language. She walked quick, like she’d outrun us. At the door, she hadn’t even turned the key in the lock before it swung open. It was her mama, Rochelle.

“Hell you been?” she hollered at Tonya, who squirmed past her, mumbling, “On the three.” I looked right at Mama, daring her to correct Tonya now.

She jumped in, the fingertips of her right hand pressing hard against her sternum. “I’m Janice. Tonya was downstairs on the third floor playing rope with my daughter and two other girls. I took her in when the shooting started. I wanted to call, but you don’t have a phone?” Mama said, pretending it was a question.

Rochelle said, “Naw, ain’t no damned phone.”