I USED RAY-RAY’S phone to call 911. Then G-ma. Then Nicky, but he didn’t pick up, so I left a message.

Now I’m at the hospital with G-ma, and we’re waiting to find out if Ray-Ray has to spend the night, or needs a new skull, or will spend the rest of his life sucking burgers through a straw. So far, there’s no sign of Nicky at all.

G-ma’s talking to the people at the desk while I’m sitting here waiting…and waiting…and waiting. No wonder they call it the waiting room, ’cause that’s all that happens here. I didn’t bring a book, plus I only have one game for my PS Vita—but I can’t concentrate on anything anyway.

I hate this place. There’s sick people everywhere. Some of them have broken bones. Some of them are lying on stretchers. And maybe you don’t see it, but you just know there’s dead people around here somewhere, peeping around corners and stuff. I mean, seriously, does anyone like hospitals?

The other thing is, this is the hospital where my dad died. It was a long time ago, and I wasn’t here when it happened. But that doesn’t stop G-ma from treating me like a baby. She keeps asking if I want to go to my aunt Nina’s while she gets this figured out.

The thing is, I want to be here. It’s not like what happened to Ray-Ray is my fault—but it’s not exactly not my fault, either. If I’m lucky, banging that big wrecking ball of his on the concrete gave him amnesia. Maybe he’ll forget he was ever mad at me in the first place.

Finally, G-ma brings over some visitor passes and I follow her down the hall. They’ve got Ray-Ray in one of those little rooms with curtains for walls, and his head is wrapped up with about a mile of white bandages. He looks like a human Q-tip, but I don’t say so.

Ray-Ray stares at me for a second, like he can’t decide if he’s still mad, or what.

“We cool?” I ask him.

He just shrugs, but I think he means yes. “Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, dear,” G-ma says, and touches his cheek like she does with mine sometimes. “How are you feeling?”

He drops the obvious. “My head hurts.”

That cracks me up. I can’t help it, but it’s okay, because then Ray-Ray starts laughing, too. The only one who doesn’t even smile is G-ma.

“Buses aren’t toys, Raymond,” she says. “You have to make better decisions from now on, baby. Next time you might not be so lucky. Walk away with the good sense God gave you. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ray-Ray says, even though he’s still cheesing over at me.

“What were you two doing outside, anyway?” G-ma asks. “Why weren’t you having chess club today?”

And I’m like, Oh, great. I got things smoothed over with Ray-Ray about half a second ago, and I’m already running into another lie.

“It’s not chess club,” I tell her. “It’s just chess.”

“That’s not what I asked,” G-ma says.

She’s got her back to Ray-Ray, and he’s watching me like TV. He’s not snitching me out about the deal with Dr. Yetty, but he’s not helping out, either. So maybe he’s still a little mad.

Then before I can mess things up any more, I get a lucky break. That curtain pulls back, and Nicky Powell is standing there.

“What’s up, baby bruh?” Nicky says. “You good?”

Ray-Ray sits up a little straighter. “I’m cool,” he says. “I’ll bounce right back. You know me, Nick.”

“No doubt,” Nicky says, and starts to give him a pound and a hug.

“Ouch!” Ray-Ray says.

Meanwhile, G-ma’s staring at Nicky like she’s thinking, Where the heck have you been? But she keeps it polite.

“You must be Raymond’s brother,” she says. “I’m Hope Wright. And this is my grandson—”

“Chess Man!” Nicky says, and shakes my hand while G-ma looks surprised that Nicky shows me some love.

“Do you two know each other?” G-ma says.

Well, you know that expression—out of the frying pan and into the fire? That’s me. Pants on fire. Engulfed in flames. Total cremation.

Before Nicky can jump in, I answer real quick. “Nicky picks Ray-Ray up at school sometimes,” I say. “That’s all.”

I can’t even look at Ray-Ray right now. If G-ma finds out I went riding with Nicky and Trayvon that day, I’m going to be the next one checking into the hospital.

Seriously, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. So I make a promise to myself, right there. No more lying to G-ma. Well…no more new lies, anyway. I can’t undo all the old ones yet. Not without starting World War III.

But no new ones. I’m putting that on everything. I’m going to change. That’s my word.

I just hope I’m telling myself the truth right now.

I always want to do right, but you know…for whatever reason…it doesn’t turn out that way.