The last bell hadn’t even finished echoing when Mr. Robb shuffled down our row with the quizzes. He looked like a scarecrow someone taught to grade papers—flat-top haircut, wide dark glasses, flannel, and suspenders. He paused at my desk, hesitated, then set my paper down face-first, like it might explode.
“Mr. Steward,” he said, voice all gravel and aftershave, “is everything okay at home?”
My stomach dropped. Teachers only ask that when something’s really wrong. I flipped the quiz. A red 40 punched me between the eyes. There was a note: Please have your parents contact me.
Heat climbed my neck. For a second, the room tunneled—whispers, chairs scraping, the squeak of his shoes. I could feel the look people give when they think you’re not who they thought you were.
I forced a smile. “Yes, sir. Everything’s fine.”
“Lonnie, your grades—”
“I know,” I cut in too fast, then softened it. “I’ll tell my parents you want to talk.”
He opened his mouth again. “Consider stopping by Ms. Hightower’s office.”
“I’m okay. Just… not focused.” I added another smile that felt like holding up a door alone.
“Basketball eligibility is at risk if this continues.”
The bell freed us. I grabbed my bag and the 40 and headed for the door. In the hall, Joe and Jonathan fell in step with me, faces set in that mix of concern and don’t freak out they always did.
“Hey,” Jonathan said, gentle for a guy whose voice carries down three hallways, “you good?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just blew a quiz.”
“Robb asked about home?” Joe asked. He’s quieter, but his words hit like facts with edges.
“It’s nothing,” I said, walking faster. “My parents just need to talk like adults again.”
“Lonnie,” Jonathan tried, “maybe see Ms. Hightower? She actually helps people.”
Joe nodded. “Seconded. And not because we think you’re broken. Because you deserve a hand.”
I wanted to bark back, but I swallowed it. “I’m fine. I’ll fix it.”
Before they could push more, Jessica slid into our lane like she’d been waiting—ponytail tight, cheeks pink from the winter air, those blue eyes already searching my face.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing big,” I said, tucking the quiz behind my folder.
Her eyes darted anyway and caught the 40. “Lonnie…”
“It’s Mr. Robb. Everyone bombs sometimes.” My smile said See? Fixed. I reached for her hand—partly to reassure her, to feel like something in my life responded to me. Her fingers were cold and small in mine, but the relief on her face warmed me.
Jonathan clocked the moment, nodded, and steered Joe away. “We’ll meet you at the buses.”
We drifted with the herd toward the commons—the long stretch that funneled every kid and every problem toward the parking lot. Daniel and April were posted near the science wing doors, laughing at something only they could hear.
“My boy,” Daniel said, slapping my palm. “Okay, finally holding hands, huh?”
“Don’t make it sound brand-new,” I said, grinning because it felt easier than explaining anything real.
April’s eyes flicked to mine, soft and curious. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied, then stepped as the crowd pressed. “See you.”
We broke for the doors just as Antwain jogged by—all arms and calm swagger, like he’d been born mid-fastbreak. He tapped the shoulder of the girl beside him without breaking stride.
“Later, Tracy,” he said. Then to me, with a smirk, “See you at the All-Star game, short stack.”
He pealed toward his bus. Tracy slowed, turned, and for the first time all day, the hallway noise fell away.
“Hey,” she said, warm like she just remembered something nice. “You riding Bus 3?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.” She glanced at mine and Jessica’s hands, then back at me with an easy smile that didn’t try to steal anything. “You were funny in reading today.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised at how steady it came out.
The line to the buses split us and then pushed us back together. Jessica’s bus peeled right. She squeezed my hand.
“I’ll call you later?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, meaning it. She squeezed again, then jogged toward her line. John—the only seventh grader with a full mullet and the confidence to pull it off—was already there. He said something; she laughed in a way I hadn’t heard from her in weeks. A pinprick of jealousy sparked in my chest, confusing and a little mean.
I looked away and almost walked straight into Tracy.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Long day.”
She nodded like she understood more than I’d said. “Are you sitting with anyone?”
I glanced toward where Joe and Jonathan usually sat. Packed. They caught my eye from the middle of the crowd—Jonathan raised a brow, Joe gave a tiny thumbs-up like go.
“Guess not,” I said.
“Cool.” Tracy’s smile widened, not flirty—just open. “Come on.”
We found the front two-seater. She slid to the window, dropped her bag by her feet, and exhaled like she’d been holding a breath all day, too. The bus groaned and rolled. Outside, the winter sky bruised toward evening, base housing lined up in familiar rows—courts and patches of grass connecting everyone whether we wanted it or not.
For a minute, I didn’t know what to say. I could talk comics. Or the All-Star game. Or nothing at all, and ruin it. Tracy saved me.
“I heard you made the team,” she said. “Congrats.”
I shrugged, failing not to grin. “Thanks.”
“Antwain said you were a smart passer,” she added. “That you see angles other people don’t.”
I blinked. Compliments from the best player in the league, delivered by the girl I used to think I’d only ever make laugh by accident. “He said that?”
“Don’t act surprised,” she teased. “He’s not nice for free.”
We hit the turn onto base. Rows of townhomes flicked by—the U-shaped courts with their shared yards and worn footpaths. The way I could navigate them blindfolded made the place feel smaller than it was.
“Sometimes I sit on the bus and pretend these are levels in a game,” I said before I could stop myself. “Like if I beat Court Three, Court Four opens a secret door.”
Tracy laughed. “That’s actually cute.”
“Thanks. I think,” I said, trying not to overheat. Through the window, Jessica’s bus passed the other way. I caught a glimpse—her head tilted toward John, talking with her hands. The pinprick flared and then fizzled into something stranger: part jealousy, part relief. I didn’t know what to do with that, so I did nothing.
Tracy nudged me with her shoulder. “You look like you’re calculating the universe.”
“Just homework,” I lied, then added, “And… the All-Star game.”
“You’ll be great,” she said simply, like it wasn’t a debate. Then, softer: “You look tired.”
I shrugged again. “Just a day.”
She let the silence be comfortable. We bumped along, the heater clicking, the driver’s radio low. In the front mirror I could see the top of my head, small and steady, like somebody I almost recognized.
At the last turn before our stop, Tracy leaned a little closer. “Hey… if your day keeps being a day, you can sit with me again tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said, and surprised myself with how much I wanted that.
The bus sighed to a halt. Doors hissed. We stood, and I felt light for the first time since first period—like maybe I could still balance everything if I just moved fast enough. On the sidewalk, cold air slapped my cheeks awake.
“See you,” Tracy said, heading toward the path that cut to the farther courts.
“See you,” I echoed. Joe had already peeled off with a new girl from our block, grinning in a way I’d tease him about later. Jonathan tossed me a salute through the window. I half-jogged the last stretch toward home, replaying the day like a highlight reel where I’d edited out the bad parts.
I reached our door, hand on the knob, heart unexpectedly light. Everything’s gonna be fine, I told myself. I can fix it.
I pushed inside.
Mom and Dad were on the couch, with a space between them you could park a car in. Dad held one of his Orisha pots—glazed reds and yellows catching the lamplight. My little sister was on the rug with the cat, not looking up.
They both did.
“Dad—you’re back,” I said, the smile still on my face like it hadn’t gotten the message yet.
They looked at each other first. Then at me. Dad’s voice came out low and careful, the way he talks when he knows I want the game to be different than the score.
“Boy… Lonnie,” he said. “We decided to get a divorce.”