I let go of both ends of the rope and ran after her. I caught up with her on the stairway landing between the third and fourth floors, and shouted, “What’s your name?”

She turned around, raised her hands up as high as her ears, and backed up against the cinder block wall. Her eyes popped as wide as they could go. I took a step back and said, “My name Fe Fe.” Then I asked her again, this time slower, and not so loud. She let her shoulders ease a little, and her eyes went back to normal.

“Tonya.”

I looked down the stairs and saw Precious’s and Stacia’s faces. Stacia, a puddle of attitude, had her neck all stuck out and a hand on one of her hips. Precious just seemed confused about why I’d dashed up the stairs after a girl we didn’t know.

All the signs were there, that this was a terrible idea, but I ignored them, and asked Tonya, “You want to play rope with me and my friends?” Her eyes widened again, but this time, out of shock.

Stacia had heard enough and stomped away from the stairs, audibly sharing her disgust at what I’d just asked Tonya. Precious remained, understanding what I was about to do.

The year before, I’d invited Stacia to join our little duo. In the building, it had been Precious and me for most of our lives. Our other friends were kids we saw in specific places, like at school or the girls that Precious saw on the weekends at church. For as long as I’d known her, Precious had a sweet spirit, and made friends easily, so even though Stacia was a Buchanan, and we had all heard that they were bullies, Precious didn’t mind playing with Stacia.

Stacia was different: very territorial of her people and things.

Tonya moved toward me, and when she was inches away, I could smell her, a combination of soured milk and armpit funk. She had a shiny jelly stain on her T-shirt.

We walked back into the square, where Stacia and Precious huddled together, whispering. I raised my voice, smothering them out. “This Stacia. That’s Precious. This Tonya.” The tension made the square seem cramped, and I tried my best to get everybody’s mood back up.

“Stacia, can you pick the next song?” I knew it would be something vulgar.

“Tonya, you can get on the end, it’s Precious’s turn.” And for a second, they’d forgotten that I’d pulled in a new girl without asking if it was cool.