Guess I just feel like I owe them the same kind of loyalty they showing me by making sure my moms and brother are taken care of while my sister goes through what she gotta go through.

    Hell, by the time I leave this place, Imma owe them more than just loyalty.

    What am I supposed to do about that? What am I supposed to do at all? Even if I am granted a favorable verdict in the case, I still got felonies on my record. I been in and outta jail since I was thirteen, man. Who’s gonna give me a job? And before you throw some “Go to college!” shit at me, who’s gonna pay for it?

    ALL of that aside, even if I managed to go to college AND get a job, I can’t just walk away from my crew. Number one, it don’t work like that. Even if I didn’t owe them a thing, I couldn’t just bounce. I’ve seen and know too much, man.

         This is a real-ass Catch-22. I read that shit a couple weeks ago. (HELLA trippy book.) The only way to stay OUT of what I really have no choice but to go back to is to stay IN here. But the longer I’m IN here, the more debt I’ll rack up for when I do get OUT.

    Kind of a no-win, ain’t it?

    Story of my damn life.

          —Q

       Jared insisted on coming. Said it would be “both enlightening and educational,” and that he needed “greater familiarity with the population” he’d “eventually be serving.”

   But as he and Justyce walk up the driveway of their destination, and Jus sees the smile that splits the face of his old pal Montrey Filly—who has grown a beard since the last time Jus saw him…which was also the last time Jus was here—a memory of Jared’s Halloween experiment-gone-wrong senior year POPS into Justyce’s head with the force and speed of a gunshot.

   This was a terrible idea.

   “Smarty Pants!” Trey calls out, spreading his arms. “I see you brought a friend?”

   Jus gulps down the panic making his legs want to move backward and shoves ahead even though it feels like wading through wet concrete.

   “ ’Sup, Trey?” Justyce says as they reach the foot of the porch steps. “This is Jared. He, uhh, wanted to meet y’all.”

   Just then, Brad comes out of the house, grinning. He’s also got some hair on his face now. And fuzzy blond locs that really are dreadful.

   Which makes Justyce think of something else: last he heard, both of these guys had been arrested for arson. He wonders when they got out. (Perhaps that “organization” lawyer Doc said Quan rejected is good at what he does.)

       He also wonders if one of them is Tomás Castillo’s true killer.

   “Justyce here was just introducing me to his pal,” Trey says to Brad.

   And Jared’s dumb ass sticks out a hand to shake. “Jared,” he says. “Nice grill, man,” and he gestures to his own teeth.

   “I know what a grill is and where it goes, fool,” Brad replies.

   “Yo, I know you from somewhere?” Trey says to Jared. “You look hella familiar…”

   “Smart guy, ain’t this one of them clowns you showed up at that party with Halloween before last?” from Brad.

   “Oh yeaaaaah, that’s right.” Trey’s rubbing his beard with his eyes narrowed all menacingly now.

   Again: terrible idea.

   “You can go on in, Justyce,” Trey continues. So Jus and Jared ascend the three stairs. But then: “White boy stays out here with us, though.”

   All of Justyce’s vital organs drop down into his sneakers, but to his surprise, when he peeks over his shoulder at Jared, dude is beaming like Trey just offered him his very own planet full of “hot tamales,” as Jared’s prone to call beautiful women.

   (Real work-in-progress, that guy.)

   Despite Jared’s apparent comfort—Justyce swears he hears him say “So about the Halloween thing…” as he’s headed up Martel’s ancient Kemet–enshrined hallway—Jus really has to focus to keep his heart rate from climbing to the speed of instant death. He did his research on gang exit strategies and discovered a number of…troubling things. (Jumped in/stabbed out came up a few more times than he’s expressly comfortable with.)

       Knowing what he’s here to ask Martel is—

   Well, it’s likely he’s lost his damn mind, so he’s trying real hard not to think about it.

   “Well, well, well,” Martel says as Justyce steps into the living room. He’s in his personal papasan just as Justyce expected him to be, but clad in all black today. He’s grown out his hair a bit, and it’s cut into a Mohawk-type thing Jus has to admit is pretty dope. Also mustachioed and bearded, but cut real close to his skin. “Good to have you back, young brutha.”

   Justyce’s eyes drop to Martel’s ankle.

   “I’m a free man now,” Martel says, startling Jus so bad, he flinches.

   Which of course is just hilarious to the older dude. “I see you haven’t changed much,” he says. “College treatin’ you good?”

   “It’s all right,” Jus says with a shrug.

   “Guessin’ that’s not what you here to talk about, though…”

   Justyce’s gaze gets pulled to the floor as if by a magnet.

       “I’ll admit, I was surprised when you called,” Martel goes on. “Considering the way you ran outta here last time, I said to myself, ‘This shit must be real important if dude is willing to show his face around here again.’ ”

   Jus flinches internally this time.

   “So what’s up, my man? I know you ain’t come over here to stand in silence. What’s this about?”

   An easy(ish) in. “Uhh…Quan,” Justyce says. Not real graceful, but it’s out.

   The way Martel’s face goes all scrunched with confusion, however, makes Jus wanna suck it back in.

   He forges ahead instead.

   “He and I have been in communication for the past six months or so—”

   “MY Vernell’s been communicating with you?”

   Oh boy.

   “Yes, sir. I paid him a visit before returning to school back in January, and we’ve been communicating through letters ever since.”

   Now Martel’s eyebrows lift and the corners of his mouth turn down. He looks almost…impressed? Which quickly morphs into suspicious. “The hell y’all been ‘communicating’ about?”