“Somebody knows something,” Tasha says. “If she was out by the Pike, there’s gotta be witnesses.”

“On a Tuesday night? Who knows what they were doing out there?”

I hold in my worry that Jamal and Angela chose that night because it’d be isolated and they could hook up. Jamal’s only witness could be whoever killed Angela. Him admitting to messing around with a white girl in the middle of nowhere isn’t going to be much of a defense. The Pike has the reputation for being the underage party spot on weekends, but Black and Latinx folks don’t hang out there. Lots of drinking and white boys with big trucks off-roading in the dried-out marshes. I can’t imagine Jamal even being caught out there. I just can’t see it.

“What about Quincy?” I ask. “You see him?”

“His fine ass wasn’t at school.”

“Wait, he was out?”

“Trust, I looked.”

“I saw Chris at the police station, too, so he was out of school on Wednesday. What about the rest of the week, or his boys?”

“Haven’t seen him. I heard people talking about how he was all sad. That he witnessed what happened. Scott and Justin were at school, mourning Angela like everybody else. I’ll admit, school’s been depressing as hell.”

“The news hasn’t said anything about Chris. I wonder what that’s all about.”

“Maybe they think he’d be in danger. If he said he was a witness and all.”

I shake my head. I have no idea.

“What the police been saying?”

I go over everything I know. But I hold my tongue about the blood and the fact that Jamal was messing with Angela. I love Tasha, but sometimes she can slice you with her words. Cut people off without giving them the benefit of the doubt. She’s already hot with her dad; I don’t know if she’ll give Jamal the grace. So I keep it to myself for now.

PAST IS ALWAYS PRESENT

Quincy knows something. That’d explain why Quincy was short with me on the phone, and why he didn’t go to school the rest of the week. If Jamal was in trouble, Quincy wouldn’t turn him away. Any other situation, Quincy’d be hollering back real quick. My cheeks blush at the thought. He’d hit me with his usual jokes about if I’m finally giving in or that he knew I wanted him all these years. I’d hide a change in expression, but inside I’d be squirming because Quincy is easy on the eyes.

When I pull up to Quincy’s place, his Impala is nowhere in sight. I pause, unsure if I should get out. Quincy’s mama opens the door, hand on her hip. Her lips sealed tight. I want to vanish, but I make my way to her.