“You go with Quincy?” Jealousy flashes in his eyes. They’ve never really been cool. Only Jamal tied them together, but even then, it was estranged.

“Why would you think that?” I flick my eyes forward. Hope he didn’t catch me leaving Quincy’s car after Herron Media last night. My chest goes tight, thinking about the kiss that Quincy and I shared. It wasn’t a real one, just a cover to keep us from getting busted. But it put a shock in me, forced me to think about Quincy and me in that way.

“What if Chris doesn’t show?” Dean changes the subject, and I’m thankful.

“He’ll have to show up at school sometime. And if he doesn’t, I’ll go to his work.”

At the station Chris was visibly injured, shaking under the arm of some guy. Each time the image of his face runs through my mind, I can’t help but be more convinced that Chris killed Angela. I run through the approach I need to take with him, and the questions to ask. Thinking in procedures helps silence my fear of confronting him.

I look over at Dean, who gives me a half smile like he’s over it. He thinks it covers his thoughts, but it doesn’t. Not to me. I see the disappointment—and sadness?—lurking beneath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“This thing with Angela. It’s got my mom all riled up.”

His mom always knows how to get under his skin. Mrs. Evans thinks Dean’s on the wrong path. She’s ultra-conservative, praising Christian values while voting in ways that seem to contradict that. I try not to let him see it bothers me.

“She doesn’t want me spending time with you anymore. It started with the office loft, then she just went off…Tracy, it was…” Dean’s eyes look glazed. “She said so many things about us…Why it never mattered if your dad was arrested…or if Angela was still alive and Jamal home. Our lives are too different.”

I’m frozen. Dean’s using softer language, thinking he’s protecting me, but I’ve long decoded this meaning. She doesn’t want us to be close because I’m Black and he’s white. That’s what he’s been hiding from me, and this wasn’t their first conversation about this.

“What happens now? Is this it? I talk to Chris, and then we can’t be friends any longer?”

“You’re my best friend,” Dean says. “She can’t stop that.”

“You’re mine, too,” I say, and I mean it. Dean is closer to me even than Tasha.

I don’t care what his mom says. I’m glad he doesn’t follow everything she believes. We’ve always pushed the boundaries that were set before we had a chance.