I STARE OUT THE CAR WINDOW AS THE INTERSTATE DRIFTS into rows upon rows of trees. We’ve definitely left the city. Cows graze the sides of the road, and every now and then we pass fields of cotton. It’s like I’m taking in the scenery for the first time. And it is my first time. At least my first time in a while. I had just entered middle school the last time MiMi took me on this route. Not that she hasn’t asked if I wanted to come back. It’s just that the rides back home were always a sick reminder that someone was missing. That we were leaving someone behind.
My phone buzzes.
Riley: You get there yet?
Me: Not yet . . . almost . . .
Riley: Come see me when you get home. We’ll talk as much or as little as you want.
I send three heart emojis to Riley. Again, because I’m that guy now. Then I rest the back of my head against my seat. Nic peers at me through the sideview mirror of the passenger seat.
“You good?” she asks.
I give her a thumbs-up sign, even though my hand feels weak. She smiles at me through the mirror. She’s tough. Way tougher than me. I lost count of how many times she had to tell what happened to her. What happened to Kenny. Any time a detective or one of those frat mofos’ lawyers tried to find holes in her story, Nic would patch them right up. She remembered every moment, every detail, without so much as a sneeze out of place that there was no plea deal that the frat guys could offer to the prosecution.
“Looks like there’s going to be a trial,” Officer Hunter had told us yesterday. He’s been making daily treks to our apartment. Claimed the Ducts was just added to his patrol, but we all knew there was more to it than that. Hunter needed to see we were all okay. “The State really wants to throw the book at them. Nic’s story stayed the same no matter what anyone threw at her. Plus, there’s enough physical evidence to corroborate her comments. You did good, kid.” Hunter glanced over at Nic like he wanted to pat her on the back, but that’s not his style. Instead, he went with a wink.
“Will she have to testify on the stand?” MiMi asked as she handed Hunter a jar of sweet tea. She always had a batch waiting for him for his daily visits. “They have enough of her comments on record. The judge could just use those, right?”
“It all depends on what the State thinks will best win the case,” Hunter explained. “Usually, actually hearing from a firsthand witness is just the icing the jury needs to do the right thing.” He raised an eyebrow at Nic. “Think you can handle telling your story again? More than likely, they’ll want you to share . . . everything.”
The way Hunter said everything sent my nerves on edge. Like at any moment one of them might blow. “Wait . . . what do you mean?” I asked.
Nic looked at MiMi. MiMi looked at Hunter. But nobody wanted to look at me.
“Hello?” I tried again.
Nic finally took a breath. “One night, Liam got too grabby.”
My hand clutched around my jar of sweet tea. Clutched around Liam’s neck. I waited for the jar to crack under the pressure and spill a river of Lipton.
“It didn’t go as far as it could have,” Nic quickly added, then looked down at her lap. “Tyler was home, at least. But it was bad enough.”
I propelled from my seat, stormed to my bedroom and punched a hole in my wall. Nic grabbed some ice, held it against my knuckles while she sat on my bed next to me. “This will only be my fuel, not my combustion,” she said. She told me her postsecondary plans. Do two years at community college. Transfer to Hampton University and go prelaw. She wanted to fight against the system that for so long fought against people who look like her. Yeah . . . my sister’s tough as titanium. And I’d have to steel myself to help her through these next few months.
“What are you going to say?” Nic asks me from the front of MiMi’s car.
I shrug at her through her sideview mirror and Nic smirks at me.
“Come on, like you really didn’t practice what you were going to say in the mirror?”
“Ugh, naw. What kind of clown do you think I am?” I ask. Truth is, though, I practiced with Riley. Everything down to the length of the first hug. If they were even going to allow us to hug.
“How about you just play it by ear?” Riley asked me, my arms still wrapped around her lower back. “If the hug feels right, keep going. If not, pull away and try to smile.”
“What if I can’t smile?” I rested my chin on top of Riley’s head. Her ponytail tickled the tip of my nose. “What if my cheeks freeze up on me and she can tell?”
“I think she’ll just be happy to see you.” Riley rubbed my back, reassured me. “You guys have a lot to catch up on. You’re editor of the lit mag, you did well on your SATs. You have an amazing girlfriend who roleplays with you for hours and hours on end.” She pulled away from me and smiled.
“Speaking of which . . .” I laced my fingers through hers. “Let’s practice that hug again.” We held each other until it was time for Riley to get home. I made sure she got there five minutes before her curfew. I definitely did not want to get on the Reverend’s bad side. He was this close to inviting me to their home for Christmas Eve dinner. Maybe I’d get MiMi to show me how to make her banana pudding for bonus points.
“Well . . . we’re here.” MiMi parks her car in the parking lot of Spotsylvania State Prison. My mom’s home for the past few years. Her home for the next few years to come.
I reach to unbuckle my seat belt but my hands won’t stop shaking. What did she even look like now? Would I see that the prison has eaten away at her? Would her eyes look different—hardened from years of being cooped in a six-by-eight-foot cell? What if she forgot what it felt like to even be a mom? That’s probably my biggest fear. Going in to see her, and she stares back at me like I’m a stranger.
I feel Nic’s hand cover my trembling one.
“Hey.” She leans back to me. “Me and you against the world, right?”
I squeeze her hand back and nod along to my heartbeat:
Thump, thump, thump.