GREY

The frigid January air didn't seem suited to the sunshine glowing overhead, teasing warmth as it hung in the sky.

I shivered as I stepped outside ahead of Dash and Cody, the sweat from seventh-period athletics adding to the frostiness all around.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Cody muttered, releasing a cloud of icy breath as we headed toward the parking lot.

"Honestly, me either." Dash exhaled a cloud of his own, turned to me. "I hope you're right about this, Grey."

I nodded once. "Me too."

After the three of us had piled inside Dash's car, we waited. Waited for the other students from the main school building to shuffle out the back. Waited for them to meander to their cars, rummage through purses and backpacks for keys.

The lot cleared slowly, vehicles starting up one by one before screeching out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Cody huffed from the front seat. "Are you sure he even has a car? For all we know, someone coulda just dropped him off—"

"There!" I screamed out as I spotted Jacquarious, hands in his pockets, plodding across the asphalt toward a black Honda Accord.

Dash twisted his keys in the ignition, the whir of the engine spitting puffs of smoke that rose from the exhaust and powdered the outside air.

The moment Jacquarious climbed inside his car, the moment his headlights shuddered to life and his car angled itself toward the exit flanked with stone pillars, Dash slid the gearshift slowly into Drive and let up on the brakes.

We crept forward, maintaining our distance—and our vantage—on the sleek ebony automobile.

"Do you think he sees us?" I asked.

Dash shook his head. "We're too far out. As long as he keeps his eyes on the road, there's no way he spots us all the way over here."

And with that, we set off, trailing Jacquarious from as far away as we could manage. We passed under green lights overhanging parkways and crosswalks; we rolled through busy intersections whose airways were scented with the smell of crepes and Canadian bacon; we drove along fenced-off streets whose fading black edges were littered with flecks of white. We pulled past buildings of broken brick until—Wait...where are we?

"Uh, guys?" I spoke up. "Is this, I mean...are we even still in Goldengate?"

"Course we aren't," Cody said matter-of-factly. "Didn't you read the signs? We crossed into Browning Heights like three miles ago."

"...Oh," I hesitated. "R-right. Of course."

Cody twisted to face me. "What? Don't tell me you actually thought that guy lived in Goldengate."

I looked away. "I mean...I don't know. Maybe? He does go to our school." I stole a nervous glance around at the smattering of one-story homes and willowy trees with low-hanging branches surrounding us.

We were on a single gray road paved unevenly and peppered with scraggly potholes. As we drove onward, the edge of the street began to blur beneath patterned clumps of caked mud. Thin weeds sprang to life between the mud, their faded fingers of green reaching toward us from behind the painted yellow strip marking the lane's end.

"How much further in do you guys think he lives?" I tried.

"Dude, I have no clue," Dash said from the driver's seat. "This was your idea, remember?"

"Y-yeah, I...I just..." I twisted my head left and right, peering yet again into the forest of trees and the houses they overhung.

Cody turned to me again. "Bro, don't tell me this is your first time rolling through the ghetto. Even I've been to Browning Heights before."

I lowered my head.

"...It's my first time too," Dash said from the front seat, his words wary but warm. "Don't sweat it, Grey. We've all got each other's backs."

I gulped, raised my head again just as Jacquarious's vehicle cut to the right a few hundred feet ahead of us.

"He's turning!" I gasped, just as Dash sped up to make it to the same spot where Jacquarious had departed the main road.

We doubled to the right, spotting that black car again mere seconds before it took a second turn behind a low-hanging willow tree and pulled into an uneven driveway.

Dash eased his foot off the gas pedal, let the car creep slowly forward until we were just feet from that same tree. Then he pulled the keys from the ignition and rolled down the windows.

Straining to see through the mossy arms blocking us from Jacquarious's car, I made out the framed ends of a doorway.

As Jacquarious strode across the grass, the door swung wide, revealing what looked to be two people clad in shorts and undershirts.

"I don't think this is his house," I whispered. "Looks like he's...meeting someone."

No sooner than I'd spoken, a third figure strolled from around the side of the house—feminine and petite with long black braids that draped over Jacquarious as she reached out to hug him.

Faintly, I caught her words: "Glad you came through."

"Guys," I whispered again. "Let's get closer."

"Are you crazy?" Dash said. "They'll see us for sure if we drive past this—"

"Not drive," I cut in. "Let's walk. Quietly."

"What, and let some junkie jack our car?" Cody spat.

I sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll go by myself. You guys stay with the car."

"Grey, that's crazy," Dash said, sighing. "No way're you going alone." He slid up the windows and clicked open the locks with his key fob, then pushed open the driver seat door. "Let's just make it quick, alright?"

I shut my eyes briefly, steeling myself, then stepped out into the cold January air, where Dash and Cody and I crept along the asphalt that blended to caked dirt.

By the time we'd made it around the tree shielding the home's front door, Jacquarious and his friends were no longer standing there. In silence, we began stalking around the side of the house—until the thud of a ball against the pavement echoed beyond the crooked wooden fence jutting up from the grass.

"First to ten?" the question came from the distance.

"Nah, man. Twenny-wahn!"

Ambling to the fence, I angled my head to see through a jagged break between a pair of the boards.

Gathered at the base of a metallic backyard basketball goal, the two guys stood next to Jacquarious, who dribbled the ball as he spoke.

Huh. So he plays basketball too.

"Alright," Jacquarious said. "Twenty-one it is." He chuckled. "Just don'tchall run home cryin' after I shut you out."

One of the guys smiled back. "Big talk for a guy who hann't rolled up in months. You sure you ain't too rusty to hoop it out?"

My eyes darted to the left, where the girl with the black braids strode into view with a Coke in hand. "DeWayne, stop all that bragging. Evrybody out here know Jacquarious about to own this."

And own it he did.

As the game started, I could barely believe what I was seeing. Jacquarious practically flew across the makeshift court, weaving back and forth, dribbling between his legs, sinking shots left and right.

Once he'd crossed fifteen points, the other two guys started working together, trying to keep him from scoring again. But after nailing a fakeout three-sixty spin that made me dizzy just to look at, he lunged forward with the ball in hand. One of the guys—the one that girl'd called DeWayne—swept around Jacquarious's heels and swung his arm for the ball, only for Jacquarious to bounce backward before palming the ball as it bounded upward from its last dribble. Balancing on a single foot, he bent his arm upward, lined up his shot with the basket, and hurled it over DeWayne's flailing arm.

SWOOSH!

"You guys seeing this?" Dash whispered over my shoulder.

"Yeah," I breathed, turning my head to face him and Cody. "That guy's a beast."

"Big woop," Cody crossed his arms. "It's a game against two players."

"Two players he's totally demolishing all on his own," Dash countered. "Like, dude, what even was that move with the back foot? Coach always says it's impossible to take a shot at that angle."

"Whatever, man," Cody grumbled.

I turned my head back to the game still unfolding in the backyard, just as the girl with the braids came running toward the basketball goal, a look of terror painted on her face.

Huh? I flicked my head to the left, ahead of where she was running—and I saw him.

Spread against the concrete, DeWayne lay facedown with his arms splayed and his fingers crumpled at their ends. From beneath the side of his head pressed to the ground, a dark red liquid had begun oozing onto the pavement, soaking the tips of his afro.

I gasped. "He's bleeding! Guys, he's bleeding!"