AS SOON AS I ENTER YOUNGS MILL HIGH THE NEXT MORNING, the air feels different. Thicker almost. Like a dark cloud hangs so low in the halls that I can barely breathe. Students walk through the halls with trepidation, like they’re wading through honey. Not the usual Monday morning blahs, but something else. Something that makes it seem painful for most of them to take a step. Punctuate that with the group of girls sobbing and hugging across from my locker, the teachers whispering all solemn-like to each other with their hands folded across their chest. Something’s off. Something’s way off.
“Yo, what I miss?” I ask the lanky dude pulling out books from the locker next to mine. He told me his name once. Twice, maybe. But I had no need to remember it since we didn’t have any of the same classes and he never was a customer.
The lanky guy closes his locker and shakes his head. “A former student got popped over the weekend, I think.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Damn, another one? Who was it this time?”
“No clue, man. I just transferred here this year.” No wonder I didn’t really remember him. At least, that’s the excuse I’ll give myself. He gives me a subtle head nod before walking away, because that’s what you do when you pay respect for the dead—even when you don’t know who they are. I think about asking one of the somber-looking teachers for deets when the sound system beeps everyone to attention:
“Morning, Lions,” Principal Gilbert begins, speaking slowly like he just downed a couple of Benadryl. “As some of you might know, we lost one of the Pride recently. The counselors will be available in the media center all day if you need extra support. You will not be penalized for missing some of class to grieve. In the meantime, let’s all pause and give a moment of silence to our dear friend, Kenny Boyce.”
Something thuds at my feet. I look down expecting to see my heart, but it’s my books instead. The fick. The fick? Kenny is dead? Kenny is DEAD. How is Kenny dead? He’s supposed to be off somewhere frolicking with Nic, stealing kisses in some car with the top down like they do in music videos. Kenny is dead?
Wait.
Wait.
Nic left with Kenny. If Kenny is dead, like really dead, then did that mean . . . ?
I run over to one of the trash bins in the hall, but nothing comes up. Just snot and air. Once again, I forgot to grab breakfast this morning, but my stomach doesn’t care. It clenches over and over, trying to push anything out. Every time I think it’s done, it socks me again. It won’t be satisfied until Nic’s completely out of my system.
“Are you okay, son?” A teacher’s hand is on my back. I stumble away from the trash bin, away from the teacher. I need to find answers. I need to find out what happened to Kenny.
“Do you need me to take you to the nurse?” the teacher asks again. I ignore him and charge down the hall. Don’t even know who I’m looking for, but I have to find someone. People talk way too much to not know what went down. Maybe someone tall. Tall usually means basketball player and everyone knows that Kenny played basketball.
Wait—the basketball team.
I book it toward the gym. The coaches’ offices are located in the same hall. The team’s probably congregating around Coach Dunn. They have to be. My sneakers squeak as I reach the gym’s corridor—the faster I get there, the faster I’ll get answers. Just as expected, most of the basketball team are in a sad huddle outside of Dunn’s office. There’s too many of them to fit all the way inside. Dunn is in the doorway, red-faced and sober. Saying something to his team. Probably something sweet about Kenny. Probably something to keep up their morale. It’s a tough balance and I certainly don’t envy him at the moment.
I crack my knuckles, wait for a way in to get information but don’t want to come across as a complete asshole. I needed to find Nic more than anything, but I give them the same respect that I’d hope someone would give me if this was Nic.
I squeeze my eyes shut: please don’t let this be Nic.
There’s weeping away from the huddle. I open my eyes and spot DeMarcus folded up on the staircase, digging his fist into his open palm. I sneak over to him.
“DeMarcus, man,” I force out, throat so tight it’s like I’m learning to speak again. “I’m really sorry—”
DeMarcus climbs to his feet and before I can back up, pulls me toward him. My face slams against his chest as DeMarcus weeps again. He wraps his arm around me and weeps, as hiccupy and raw as a child leaving his mom on the first day of school. You could hear the pain in every sob. DeMarcus put on a good show on the court the other day, but it’s clear as day now. Kenny meant something to him. Kenny was his boy. All I can do is wrap my arms around him and give him that moment.
Finally, he pulls away from me, wipes his face on his forearm. “It’s all just so jacked up, bruh,” he says.
I nod. He’s totally right. I wish I could be the guy he needed right now. Give him my shoulder and ear as he told me all his memories about Kenny. And I want to be, but first: “What happened to him?”
DeMarcus blows out breath through his mouth. “They’re not even sure yet. The cops found his body down at Deer Park last night. But from what I heard, he’s been dead for a while. They took forever to identify him. His parents had to . . . his parents had to . . .” Something guttural leaves DeMarcus’s mouth and he strikes at the air. I reach over, pat his back as he tries to get himself together. But I get it. No parent should have to see their child like that.
“We told him,” DeMarcus continues. “We told him to keep away from Javon, but that nigga’s always been stubborn as hell.”
My hand drops. “Javon did this?”
DeMarcus smirks at me. “Like we’d ever know.”
I grit my teeth. He’s right. About both things. I saw the rage in Javon when Kenny and Nic first took off. I felt what he wanted to do to them if he ever got his hands on them. What if he finally did? But if Kenny’s dead then what did that mean for Nic?
My feet take off running. I had to pay another visit to someone. The only person who could probably make sure Nic is okay.
“Didn’t see you at church yesterday.” Officer Rick Ross didn’t even bat an eyelash when he spotted me waiting for him in the lobby of his precinct. But after that bomb dropped about Kenny, of course I’d be here.
“I think you and I both know that I have a lot going on right now,” I say.
Officer Hunter gives me a nod: Fair enough. He then hitches his head toward the back, beckoning me to follow him. But my feet stay planted.
“I don’t want a snack,” I say. “I want some answers.”
“We’re in a station, kid. Everyone wants answers.” He raises his eyebrows and motions at all the business of the precinct. I had been too laser-focused to scope out anything or anyone else. But now? I spot the nosy officer at the front desk. I spot the guy waiting to be booked on the bench, leaning forward for intel so he could cop a deal. Too many ears out here. And those ears are attached to mouths that might spill wax to Javon.
I give in and follow Hunter back to his break room. “Don’t you have school?” he asks. He doesn’t ask if I want to take a seat and he doesn’t take one, either. He and I both know that there’s too much going on for pleasantries.
“Free period,” I lie. “So, you weren’t going to tell me about Kenny?”
Hunter blinks at me. “I don’t believe you have a badge, son. That’s the only people I need to bump gums with.”
I huff, full of irritation. “Yeah, but you know my sister is missing. You know Kenny used to live in the same neighborhood. And you know who they both have in common. Plus . . .” I brace myself for what I need to say next. “. . . Nic took off with Kenny. They were . . . together.”
I can’t read Hunter’s face. His mouth just quirks to one side as he leans against a vending machine, crosses his arms over his chest.
I throw my hands up as if I can use the force to hitch him into action. “Do I need to spell it out? Javon obviously popped Kenny! He could do the same to my sister unless you guys stop him! I know Nic’s not high on the priority list, but someone’s dead now. Aren’t you guys supposed to stop that from happening again?”
Hunter looks at me as if he’s waiting for me to say more. When he realizes I won’t, he pushes himself off the vending machine. “We’re questioning Javon now.”
The words ring so loudly in my ears that I almost think I imagined them. Javon Hockaday is at the station the same time as me. The guy who I know deaded Kenny. The guy who might try to do the same to Nic. “Where is he?” I scan around the breakroom as if he’ll magically appear. “He’s a pretty slippery guy. He got away with all his crap for this long, you can’t let him do the same for this.”
“Jay.” He clasps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “We have guys in this precinct that’ve been on the force since before you were born. We’ve questioned guys even slicker than Javon Hockaday. Now . . . are you going to keep telling me how to do my job, or are you going to let me go do my job?”
I step away from his hand. “If you and your guys were doing your jobs, Kenny wouldn’t be dead in the first place.” I almost wince. Almost. After all, I need him to get Nic back. But because of their casualness about Nic in the first place, another brother is a statistic. Kenny could’ve been something great. Not anymore. How many Kennys do there have to be in Bad News?
Hunter’s jaw clenches as my words sink in. I expect to see his hand flying down to the back of my neck, pushing my face down against the card table to slap some cuffs on me. All because I talked smack. All because he can.
Instead, he opens the door for the breakroom. Motions for me to leave. “Get to school. Your grandmother has enough going on without worrying about your grades.”
I pry my feet off the floor, make them move toward the exit even though there’s so much more I want to say. To do. I pause at the threshold, turn back to Rick Ross.
“We got this,” he reassures before nodding me out of the station.
I don’t return the nod. I can’t force my head to agree with something when my heart doesn’t.