My stomach flip-flops. I try to catch Julian’s eye, but he’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s looking at Ms. Jackson, a storm brewing just below the surface.

“He’s starting back at Crenshaw, and he needs a place to settle until the rest of his family gets here in a few weeks,” Ms. Jackson says. I watch the looks pass between them, and I know Ms. Jackson is saying a lot more with her eyes than she’s saying with her mouth. Her eyes are saying things like Don’t you dare say anything ugly, Julian, or you won’t be able to sit down for a week. I’ve seen my own mother’s eyes say the same thing a million times. Even Frankie is learning to perfect those eyes that talk.

“Ma and Frankie and… everyone will be here in a couple of weeks. When my mother’s job starts,” I say, my voice a little stronger than it was a few minutes ago. “They’re packing up the apartment and stuff.” Julian takes his eyes off of Ms. Jackson long enough to look me in the eye.

There is dark stubble along his jawline, but his close-cropped dark hair is cut exactly the same as it always was. Same piercing blue eyes that look like they’re looking right through you, too. I wipe the sweat forming on my brow and brush a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Why are you here before they are?” Julian asks, jutting his chin out at me.

It’s a simple question, but the acid behind it makes my chest ache.

“I wanted to start school as soon as possible. I didn’t want to have to transfer a few weeks into the semester. So, Ms. Jackson said…” I trail off when I notice the look on Julian’s face.

“I said we would be happy to have him stay with us for a few weeks,” Ms. Jackson says. “And you call me Birdie like you did when you were little, Elijah. It’s okay,” she finishes, putting her hand on my shoulder again and squeezing lightly.

“Thank you, Ms.… Birdie,” I say, remembering the way it felt to call her that when I was younger. Like something warm settling around my shoulders.

Julian cuts his eyes toward his grandmother, his face full of fury. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Ms. Vance and I only just worked out the details a few days ago. I thought it best to keep it quiet until all our ducks were in a row.”

“I won’t get in your way,” I say quietly.

“Oh, now don’t you go fretting about that,” Ms. Birdie says, giving me a playful swat on the back with her dish towel. “Come on now, I’ve got dinner waiting for all of us.”