But nothing came. Not a name call, not so much as a lunge in our direction, not a gesture to make us flinch. They were the next two families to move out of the neighborhood.

Nehemiah has been my dude ever since. I had to do something to make things right between us.

It’s hard for me to be patient when there’s so much going on. Even if it’s just in my head.

Sitting on my couch, I flip through the television channels, not really paying attention to anything in particular. I’m not sure if my mind can’t focus or if I just want to distract myself. I know what I need to do, but to put my plan into action I have to wait on Moms. Of course today she wasn’t already home to greet me. Finally the key jostles in the lock. Ahrion bounds into the room. She doesn’t understand how big she’s getting. If she does, the realization doesn’t stop her from a running start and leaping onto the couch to tackle hug me.

“Want to play video games? I have a new racing one,” Ahrion says.

“I’d love to. When I get back, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

When I stand up, I make sure Moms isn’t watching us and I pass Ahrion a pack of Twizzlers. She loves the stuff, but Moms limits her candy intake. I press my finger to my lips.

Ahrion touches her lips with her finger and then promptly yells, “Moms, Thelonius gave me some Twizzlers!”

“Thelonius, you know better,” Moms scolds without any heat.

“Sorry, Moms.” I bend over to Ahrion. “You’re the worst at secrets.”

I’m careful to smile at her so that she recognizes that I’m kidding.

“I know.” She jumps up to hug me. “I’m the worst.”

Once I untangle myself, I slink to the kitchen. “Moms, can I ask you something?”

Something about the way I ask the question, maybe my tone since I was trying to let her know I was serious, causes her to freeze. She turns off the stove and gives me her full attention. “What is it?”

“I need to go over to Nehemiah’s.” Moms doesn’t like me walking over to his stretch of the neighborhood. All those cop shows she loves watching so much convinced her there was a serial killer or child molester behind every bush. I quickly laid out my case. “I won’t stay long. I’ll call your cell when I get there and right before I leave so you’ll know when to expect me home. And if I spot RaShawn, or his sister, I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Why? Did something happen? I was wondering why he wasn’t here.” Moms tilts her head, examining me.

I hesitate. The word catches in my throat and I barely squeeze it out. “Yes.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“We . . . had a fight. I need to make things right with him.” My eyes brim with the beginnings of tears but I refuse to let one fall. I plead with them, hoping she’ll see that I have to do something, this one thing, on my own.