“I . . . hadn’t thought about that.” Think creatively and about every possibility. The possibility resets the game. A whole new pool of suspects springs to mind. “The twins wanted me to talk to Jaron.”

“You want to go near anywhere they send you?”

“Maybe he’s some kind of witness. If he ain’t come forward, it’s ’cause he’s scared.”

“That makes sense. He don’t want to be labeled a snitch. Or definitely would be afraid of pointing the finger at a teacher.”

“Either way.” I lick my fingers. “I don’t know Jaron except to mess with.”

“He all right. He’s been tripping lately. Like he’s two people and you never know which one you’ll meet from day to day.”

“I was thinking we try to talk to him tomorrow. You know the dude. He might still feel some sort of way about me after the music room thing.” I turn away and mumble, “Not that I blame him.”

Nehemiah stabs at his last bits of pizza. He refuses to make eye contact with me.

“You are coming back tomorrow, right?” I press.

Nehemiah raises his arm to examine his wrist. “Might as well. Don’t see what the point is, though. Ain’t nothing much for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around—this is all I got. This is all that’s waiting for me. I don’t believe much in tomorrows.”

I twist away from him because meeting his eyes hurts me in the bottom of my stomach. I wish I was older or smarter and had all the right words to say.

“All I know is that I can’t solve this without you.” I hold my hand out. For a heartbeat, Nehemiah just stares at it as if making up his mind. Then he grins. We clap our hands, fire our guns, and snap our fingers. “I guess I’ll have to believe in tomorrows enough for both of us.”

“How did it go?” Moms asks when I walk through the door.

“You mean over at Nehemiah’s?” I examine her, hoping to catch her out of breath or sweating from running after me. “It was okay.”

“You know I’m not real fond of you going over there.”

“But he’s my friend.”

“I know, baby.” A hint of sadness fills Moms’s voice. “But there are . . . influences I want to keep you away from. Life shouldn’t have to be so real for you already.”

“It’s real all the time for Nehemiah.”

“And if I could, I’d keep him from those influences, too.” Moms hugs me. For a long time. Hard.

“Are you going to let go?” I mumble from her chest.

“In a minute. I got something to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?” My head mushes into her side and I can barely breathe. I try pulling away, but Moms grips me tighter in her now less-than-tender embrace.

“Mr. Blackmon called. He wants to meet with the both of us in the morning to discuss your recent behavior.”