“Girl, you family. No need to apologize. I just wish they’d both act civil around here. I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry.” Daddy Greg kisses Ms. Candice’s forehead.

She shoos him to the front of the house, and I follow Tasha to her room.

I was trying to get away by coming here. Jamal is hurt, gone. Mama is lost, stressed. But I’m now consoling Tasha. We have so much in common, except she’s turned to stone. I know I’m the only one who can bring her back. I touch Tasha’s hand to warm her and pretend it doesn’t hurt when she flinches.

“What was that all about?”

“He thinks he can come back and tell me what to do,” Tasha says. “Like I gotta ask him for permission. Where the hell’s he been if he wanted to play daddy so much?”

I rub Tasha’s back to comfort her.

“I’m annoying. Sorry.” Finally, she smiles. “I’m glad you came by. I was gonna head to you.”

“I had to get out, too. It’s suffocating being home.”

“I know the feeling.” She squeezes my hand.

“You hear anything at school?” I ask, studying Tasha.

“Nah. Bunch of rumors.” Tasha’s eyes cut away. “You know how school gets. Things were crazy, though. We barely had class. First period, people were just crying, and then they had an assembly to share the news. Grief counselors came, and they’ll be there next week, too.”

“They say anything about Jamal?” I hold my breath. I know it’s bad. That’s why I came by today, because Tasha wasn’t saying much on the phone, trying to protect me.

“A little on Jamal, but mostly everyone feeling sad about Angela. The school is split. You know how it goes.”

“Black and white?”

“Pretty much everybody Black’s got Jamal on their mind. They better find Jamal and clear things up soon, or by the end of the year there’s gonna be a riot.”

“Anyone seen Jamal? Know what he was doing out by the Pike?”

“Last people saw him at school was Tuesday. Rumors are flying, though, that he looked upset, but people thought it was because of the Susan Touric interview.”

“Great.” I shake my head.

“I did hear it going around Jamal was talking to Angela Tuesday morning.”

“I skipped class and spoke with Angela that morning, too.” I flash to our conversation. “Angela wanted me to work with her on some exposé. I was supposed to meet her first thing Wednesday.”

“Damn. Really? Maybe she got herself killed.”

“Over what, a school scandal? Rigged student council elections?” I tighten my face after I say it. Reality sets in. She’s gone now.

“I don’t know,” Tasha says. “It’s messed up.”

“Really messed up, and to make it worse, the cops believe Jamal did it, but he’s running, can’t defend himself.”