I am the picture of a perfect student for the entire period, moving to the computer station to complete my math work without prompting. Teachers are like people: if you annoy them, by the time you need something they’ll automatically say no just to spite you. Do what they want or make their job easier, they are quick to reward you. Checking the clock, I estimate the completion of my work to give me enough time to make it to the bathroom.

“Mrs. Horner, may I go to the restro—”

“No,” she cuts me off. Mrs. Horner’s not always like people.

“But I’ve completed all my work and I have to go really bad.” This next bit costs me a bit of dignity. I bend my knees toward each other and cup the crotch of my pants. Mr. Blackmon shakes his head and upends his water bottle to his mouth.

“All right, but I’ll escort you. No funny business.”

“Yes, ma’am, I mean, no, ma’am.”

RaShawn’s footsteps echo from the hallway. He drags his feet, then stomps them like a zombie. His shirt is never quite tucked in, like he’s always about to do some work. The sides of his head are shaved, but his hair is a series of short dreds in need of tightening that stand nearly straight up so it looks like he’s wearing a fallen crown.

The bathroom door barely closes behind him when he leans against the wall, bored and impatient. I hate the fact that I’m doing the school’s job for them. Still, it’s my neck on the line and I’m not putting any part of me in the hands of teachers. Time isn’t on my side. I need to do my thing.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” I say.

“Because of my sister? That wasn’t on me. See, what had happened was—”

“I don’t have the time. Consider it squashed.”

“All right, then.” RaShawn lets out his shirt and stands taller. “What’s up?”

“You hang out at the bushes?”

“Uh-uh. You ain’t pinning the gun on me.” He throws his hands up in a “don’t shoot me” pose. “What I need a gun for?”

“According to your sister . . .”

“I don’t need a gun to deal with Nehemiah.” RaShawn’s voice thickens with anger.

With Mrs. Horner just outside the door, I pat the air, miming for him to lower his voice. “All right, let’s say you don’t. If you’re doing business over there, it could be you on the wrong side of Marcel.”

“Nope, try again. Me and the lady G have an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

“Noneya.”

He must hang around Pierce a lot more than I thought. “Fine. You see anything or anyone suspicious?”

“Nah, bruh. I’m a blind man. If you looking for snitches, I’m out.” With that, RaShawn bounces.

I wait a few minutes before leaving. While walking out, I fiddle with my belt for Mrs. Horner’s benefit. “No one should go in there for a while.”