I’m about to protest when she suddenly stands up from her kitchen stool, cutting me off. “And speak of the devil! Good morning, sunshine.” She laughs.

Julian grunts from where he stands by the doorway and grabs a protein shake from the refrigerator before heading back down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“He’s about as friendly as a porcupine in the mornings.” Ms. Birdie smiles at me when he disappears. “But don’t you worry about him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have you back on the team. You can tell him on your walk to school.”

Twenty minutes later, Camille Robles is waiting for us at the end of the driveway, and I still haven’t told Julian.

“Elijah Vance,” she says, running up to me and wrapping her arms around my neck. “Oh my GOD. We all thought you were dead! Or in prison!”

I try really hard not to roll my eyes. I heard the whispers from some of the people in Meridien right after I was suspended. Loudmouths who made comments about me eventually sharing a cell with my father and making bets on how long it would take before I did something bad enough to be shipped up to Huntsville just like him. It was the cruelest of the cruel remarks we endured in the few weeks between my suspension and when we left Meridien. For some reason, I don’t think Camille realizes just how much it stings, and I almost forgive her for it. Is that me getting numb to it? Or just forgetting how nasty things got right before we left?

“Uh… not dead. Or, uh… or the other thing,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. I haven’t seen Camille in years, but she doesn’t seem to have changed much. Same giant curly hair. Same long, skinny frame.

“Let me look at you!” she says, holding my arm up like she’s checking under the hood of a car. “That hair! I’m loving it!” She touches the top of my head and ruffles it a little bit.

“Camille, knock it off,” Julian says.

I try to throw him a thank you glance, but he’s not looking at me. The apples of his cheeks are pink.

“So, where have you been all these years?” Camille says, adjusting her backpack and falling in step between Julian and me.

“Uh… well,” I mumble.

“Out with it,” she says, knocking me with her elbow.

“We were in Houston,” I say, biting the inside of my lip and hoping she doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Oh, I have people in Houston,” she says, launching into a long description of aunts, uncles, and cousins twice removed.