“Maybe. Or I might be special. You gonna ask my question for me or not?”

While I pondered, he directed me to his street, and to his carnival-bright house, light beaming from every window. You couldn’t look at it without squinting. I braked at his driveway, and he waited for his answer.

“Fine,” I said, “I got you. Then I want some results on this Kiera thing. For real.”

Cue slick comeback, right? I expected something to put him back in charge. That’s how I thought of Jameer until that moment. In charge. He only said, “Thanks for understanding.”

Didn’t have the heart to tell him, no, I didn’t.

When he disappeared into the blinding lights of his smothering home, I glanced toward the dark windows of the house next door. Kiera’s.

Soon.

Chapter 7

MY HOUSE HAD TWO BATHROOMS. The one in my parents’ room: shut, steamy from Dad’s hot shower, and unapproachable due to his loud, bad singing. The other one was in the hall between my room and Cressie’s. I’d forgotten the hectic mornings pounding on the door because Cressie was barricaded in there, doing whatever sorcery was necessary to become publicly presentable, leaving me a solid ten minutes to perform my own hygiene duties before rushing off to school. So, imagine the trauma on a random Wednesday when groggy, barely functioning me went to nudge my never-locked bathroom door open, only to nearly dislocate my shoulder when I walked full speed into unyielding wood.

I bounced backward, first checking for a bone bruise, then I beat on the door with the meaty part of my fist, thinking my sister had made another surprise visit home. “Cressie?”

“It’s me, sweetie,” said Mom. “Hang on.”

Okay. Made sense. Dad was in the other bathroom. Mom had to go.

Except, I heard whispering. “Mom? You talking to me?”

I leaned toward the door, nearly pressing my ear against it, when it swung open so quickly I almost tipped over. Mom thrust her iPhone at me. “Your sister’s on the line. You want to talk to her?”

“It’s six thirty in the morning.” I motioned into the bathroom. “Can I?”

Mom sidestepped and allowed me in. I was so sleepy, and so irritated, it never once occurred to me that Mom talking to Cressie in a locked bathroom when the sun wasn’t up yet was . . . unusual. Before I closed the door, I heard Mom padding downstairs, saying, “I don’t think it’s a great idea. People your age want to put everything online. Seems reckless to me . . .”

Uncapping the Listerine, I swigged the burning blue liquid, swished, and spit. Didn’t give my mother or sister a second thought.

The ride to school with Qwan was quiet. Healthy Living was after lunch, and Jameer’s question was on my mind. It felt dumb as hell to go through all this when I could grab him between classes and look up “wet dreams” on the library computer.

Wait. No.