“Yo, Johnson. The sky,” I respond.
He pauses, looking up, then realizes—sooner than I thought he would—and laughs. “You’re funny.”
There’s another pause, and then he’s sitting himself down next to me.
“So listen, it’s the twenty-first century. No one hates gays no more.”
I didn’t get the memo.
“So, like, I’m cool with it—as long as you don’t crush on me or anything, you dig?”
“I dig,” I say.
He pats my back, then pauses with a wink. “No homo.”
I want him to gather his things and bother someone else. But he seems determined to piss me off.
“So what’s Scotty like? The guy acts like he’sa god. But, like, trust me, I know what godly is. Girls tell me daily, you know?”
Daniel seems all philosophical about his dick game, shrugging in what I’m sure he thinks is a humble way.
“But none of his conquests tell me things. I tried asking Chiamaka—because even though he’s gay, who wouldn’t want to hit that?”
I wouldn’t.
“So, what’s Scotty like?”
For someone so big onNo homo, he’s really making me wonder…
I sit back, looking up like I’m thinking about it.
“Scottyisa god, Daniel,” I say, realizing only after that he probably doesn’t get any form of sarcasm.
He bobs his head slowly, processing my words carefully.
“Wow, maybe I shouldn’t have doubted him,” he says.
“Maybe.”
Daniel turns and pats me on the back again. “You’re actually an okay dude, Devon.”
I think that’s meant to be a compliment, but I’m not sure how complimented one can feel by Daniel. At last, it seems my prayers are answered and Daniel moves away.
My phone buzzes. A text from Unknown. Bold, bright text beaming at me.
Just in. Our favorite alleyway lurker, Jack McConnel, has a drug problem. Let’s just hope his straight A record doesn’t suffer because of it and his brand-new friends…—Aces
The message creates this emptiness inside. Like all my organs have been removed and I am just this shell. Jack wouldnevertouch that stuff. His ma died because of drugs, his dad got incarcerated because of drugs, and he has brothers to look after.
He’d never do something that idiotic or risk his scholarship like that.
I go to my messages and hesitate.
Jack’s name in all of this makes even less sense than Chiamaka’s. At least with Chiamaka, I could link us both back to Scotty, but now none of this makes sense.
I text:Are you ok? I know the rumors aren’t true.
Within seconds, his reply vibrates in my palm.
