I felt a tiny pinch of guilt, watching Ms. Vance open her front door to Officer Kapinski. The shame on her face was visible even as the sun dipped below the horizon and started to turn the world purple.

Camille whispered to me the next day in fourth period, “Elijah got suspended. For a month.”

I tried to look shocked. I tried to look sorry.

All I felt was numb and confused.

And now he’s in my house, and I still can’t decide what I’m supposed to feel. There were things we shared three years ago, before he broke the window. Things that can’t be erased by a monthlong suspension and a three-year move to Houston. But he still left me. Without an explanation and without saying goodbye.

I throw my English homework on the floor. There’s no way I’m going to be able to concentrate on anything else tonight. My head is filled with Elijah.

I find Birdie in the living room, a stretch of quilting across her lap and her glasses perched on the end of her nose. The TV is on, but the volume is turned way down, as some late-night talk show host in a fancy suit delivers his monologue.

I sit down next to Birdie on the couch and let my head fall back. The burning in my ribs has mostly dulled to a slight buzz now. Maybe there will be a bruise there tomorrow.

“How was practice?” she asks, her voice quiet as she works the needle in and out of her squares at a dizzying pace.

“Fine.”

“Now, Julian, let’s not be like that,” she says. “The good book says to love thy neighbor.”

I try not to roll my eyes, because even though she’s not looking right at me, I’m convinced Birdie can hear things like that.

“The good book says thou shalt not do a lot of things that Elijah Vance has done,” I mumble.

“Listen, I know you’re upset,” she says.

“Upset? I’m not upset,” I say.

“Now, Julian…” That’s twice she’s “Now, Julian-ed” me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Birdie lets out a long, low sigh. “Pastor Ernie told me about the Vances’ situation last weekend. I told him I would get in touch with Ms. Vance and see if we couldn’t work something out. Robin wanted Elijah to start school at Crenshaw right away instead of waiting until they were ready to move back. She was in a bind, Julian. We’ve got the room. I wasn’t going to turn my back on a family in need.”

“But three years ago—”

“That boy has more than done his penance for that now. And that’s the last I want to hear about it. Yes?” Birdie’s tone goes firm.

“Yes, ma’am.” I know when I’m about to get “Now, Julian-ed” again.