“They talked. I gave up shotgun to Kiera and rode in back so they could have their say.”

“Talked? No screaming. No threats.”

Qwan sneered. “Look, everybody ain’t caught up in that silly shit the way you think. They were fine.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa! “What’s up with all that bass in your voice?”

He shook his head, then jogged to catch up with Angie, leaving me alone and confused.

I sped up, passed them all to take the lead. We came to the student union, the only building bustling with activity on a Saturday morning.

The whole walk over, the Pledgers chatted among themselves, Angie and Kiera most of all. It was benign stuff, admiring how pretty the campus was, and how tough certain teachers back at Green Creek were. How they got there from those icy stares this morning was a mystery for me, one nobody seemed eager to help me solve.

Inside the student union, where the marble floors were like mirrors under the streaming sunshine, and signs pointed us toward the auditorium where the event would be held, Angie said, “Is there a restroom nearby?”

Mya spotted the facilities, and all the girls drifted in that general direction. Bobby, Ralph, and Jameer announced a pit stop, too. Qwan’s attention stayed on tall windows near the exit, the clear sky beyond. Though my bladder pulsed lightly, I took the opportunity to talk one-on-one, something we hadn’t done since . . . when? “Hey, what’s with you? I know something’s wrong.”

He blew air through his teeth, whistling slightly.

“Things not going good with Angie?”

“Yo, you think Tyrell might give me my job back? If I apologize?”

Now that was out of the blue. “Naw. You stole from the restaurant. It’s like on tape. He probably told corporate and everything.”

A grim nod. “I figured.”

“Bro, you won that battle. A few Cra-Burgers to go with two girls and—”

“Those girls robbed me, D.”

At first I thought it was some new slang I wasn’t up on, not literal. Then, I thought back on that night. How Qwan had been working the front line by himself. I never saw how it all went down. “At gunpoint? They must’ve been starving.”

“Naw. I gave them the food, and rolled out with them thinking it was about to go down. They were talking all slick like we were gonna get real freaky. Lindy Blue shit, you know. When we got to the edge of town, they pulled over, made me give up my shoes and any dough I had on me.”

“The Jordan Elevens?” I always wondered why he didn’t wear those anymore. “But you said—”

He threw his hands up, defeated. “I lied on my dick, D. Okay? You got me.”

Qwan . . . lied on his dick? The cardinal sin? Him, too?

Some warm blossom of hope bloomed inside me. Maybe I could tell him the truth about Shianne finally. No more secrets. Except, why was he admitting this now? I said, “Have you always lied?”