“It’s fine. As you mentioned, we’re not that busy. I’m sending you home. It’s all good.”

I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t explain to Mom or Dad why my shifts were getting cut short. I’d need to crack the code on this money situation soon. Just not that afternoon.

I shot Qwan a couple of texts before leaving FISHto’s.

Me: Ninja, you up?

Me: I’m coming through

Fool was probably up all night watching Netflix. I’d have to be his wake-up call. Dropping my phone in my cup holder, I set off for his crib.

Qwan lived in a beige, weather-stained townhouse wedged between other beige, weather-stained townhouses in a community called Delany Groves. There weren’t driveways, only designated parking spaces along the curb. Because of the designations, guests like me could only park in spots where “VISITORS” was stenciled on the asphalt. Normally, it wasn’t a problem. The neighborhood wasn’t crowded, and there was typically a prime VISITORS spot right by Qwan’s door. Not so today. An old tan conversion van—the kind that looked like a fat diving bell and had a couch in the back—occupied the space.

The next available spot was a ways down, so I parked and walked. When I knocked, Qwan’s mom let me in. She had curlers in her hair, and a terrycloth housecoat tugged tight. “Hey, baby. You here to study, too?”

“Yeah,” I said, cosigning the lie automatically. There had never been a study session at Qwan’s house. Davonne, Qwan’s little sister, scrolled through Hulu options in the living room, while Ms. Reid returned to something sizzling in the kitchen. I climbed the stairs, anticipating discovery.

Shouldering open his door, I cast hallway light into Qwan’s dim room. Two wrestlers broke apart like they’d heard a referee’s whistle. As I flipped on the ceiling light, my gaze snagged on the one who wasn’t my best friend.

Well, hello, Angie Bell.

They weren’t doing it, THANK GOD. Still fully dressed, but ruffled. They’d been doing something. Angie was more self-conscious of it than Qwan. He’d long given up any shame around me.

She shifted around in his desk chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs in an audition for the part of Nothing-to-See-Here Girl. Even if she’d found the perfect posture, the giveaway would’ve been her body lotion. It had glitter in it, so her skin glistened when the light caught it right. It was most noticeable above the barely-a-collar of her low-cut tee, right where sternum became cleavage. The same glittery lotion was all over Qwan’s face, sparkling, turning his grin into something as magical as a unicorn’s horn.

“D,” Qwan said.

“Yoooo!” I couldn’t hide my smirk.

Angie said, “What up, Del Rainey?”

“Hey, Angie.”

We’d never had a conversation before, me and Angie, but when you went to Green Creek introductions weren’t often necessary.

Qwan eyed my uniform. “Tyrell let you out the shark tank.”

“Kinda. Thought I’d swing through. But, you’re busy.”

Angie stood, catching the strap of her unopened school bag. “I’m leaving. I think we’ve studied enough for one day.”