“Mrs. Fitzgerald named the reasons.” Nehemiah began to quote: “‘There isn’t any reason to bring a weapon near this building. Not to impress anyone. Not to scare anyone. Not to threaten anyone.’”

“That’s just it: impress, scare, or threaten. If Pierce was threatened, RaShawn may know something.”

“That’d be a first. I’ve seen his grades.” Nehemiah stifled a snicker. He spends far too much time hacking into the administration’s database. “Still, I don’t think he’s going to be in a talking mood after yesterday.”

“Let me worry about that. Can you arrange a meet?” I ask.

“For when?”

“Nine thirty. Middle of second period shouldn’t be suspicious. So can you?”

“Let me worry about that.” Since phones aren’t allowed in school—if teachers see one they confiscate it and a parent has to pick it up at the end of the day—we have to get creative. Nehemiah scribbles on a piece of paper, folds it, and writes RaShawn’s name on it before tucking it in his pocket.

I lower my head and pretend to work while he raises his hand.

“What, Nehemiah?” Mrs. Horner says without humor.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You just got here. Why didn’t you go on your way to class?”

“It’s an emergency.” Those were the magic words. Teachers have to relent if the situation is an emergency. Even if they are suspicious, they can’t risk a nervous bladder. All it takes is one student leaving a puddle under a chair for that teacher to visit Mrs. Fitzgerald’s office to conference with angry parents.

“Fine. Mr. Blackmon? Can you escort this upstanding young gentleman to the bathroom?”

Mr. Blackmon slowly rises out of his seat, passing a skeptical glance from me to Nehemiah back to me. Twirling his water bottle once, he holds the door for Nehemiah.

Now, I’ve seen this play of Nehemiah’s before. He’ll go to the bathroom, waste a few minutes, and come out to grab a drink at a water fountain. Then without warning, he’ll take off running, whooping and hollering. There’s no way Mrs. Horner would ever catch him, having learned that the hard way, so she now has Mr. Blackmon do the escort. Nehemiah only needs a couple dozen feet to be able to duck into a room, stir up a distracting ruckus, and slip the note onto RaShawn’s desk. Since Mrs. Horner will end up across from Mrs. Fitzgerald over it anyway, the cost of this stunt usually is detention for Nehemiah. And he won’t be able to pull this again for a while because they’ll be on guard against it for at least the next month.

Nehemiah’s yelps echo down the hallway. I hide my smile by focusing on my work.

It takes a long time for Mr. Blackmon to return. Without Nehemiah. He must’ve already been deposited at Mrs. Fitzgerald’s office. Judging from the intensity of their conversation, Mrs. Horner blames Mr. Blackmon for not being able to control one of their students. A twinge of guilt washes over me. By the time the first-period bell rings, they are in their neutral corners.