What the hell is Jus doing here?

There’s a tap on his foot, so Jus looks up. Martel is squatting beside him with a glass in his hand.

Jus sits up and takes a drink. The first gulp is too big—he doesn’t know why he didn’t expect the thing to be alcoholic. He coughs as what feels like the flames of hell run down his esophagus through his chest and into his stomach.

Martel laughs. Jus can tell it’s a laugh of delighted amusement. It makes sense that the neighborhood guys without dads flock to Martel. “So, the illusion wore off, huh? Seeing some truth now?” he says.

Jus nods, and that feeling of defeat returns to his chest now that the fire from the liquor is gone.

“You ready to strike back?”

Justyce knew this question would come. What he isn’t ready for, though, is the fear that seems to have elbowed its way in front of his fury. Is he ready to strike back? It’s definitely not what Manny would want.

But the reason he’s even here is because Manny is gone.

Justyce looks up at Martel. There’s no anxiety in this dude’s face. No pressure. No fear. Jus lifts his glass to his lips again—

Trey bursts into the room with Gun Guy and White Boy Brad on his heels. “Yo, check this out,” he says, passing a cell phone to Martel. They all crowd around.

“Brad, that’s the fool you punched at that Halloween party, right? With the KKK shit on?” Gun Guy asks.

“Yep,” Brad says. “That’s him.”

“Homeboy says you whupped his ass a few months ago, Justyce.” Martel hands Jus the phone.

There, in big, bold letters above a picture of Blake Benson: JUSTYCE McALLISTER’S VIOLENT PAST: A FORMER VICTIM SPEAKS OUT.

“Damn, Smarty-Pants,” Trey says, shaking Jus’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Hell yeah, bruh!” from Gun Guy. “You scrap like this dude say you do, you can roll with us anytime.”

“For real. You more like us than I realized!” Brad says.

That does it for Justyce. “I gotta go.” He scrambles to his feet and makes a break for the door, refusing to turn around when they call out after him.

“Let him go,” he hears from Martel on the way out.

Mrs. Friedman looks so shocked to see Justyce standing on her doorstep, he peeks over his shoulder to make sure there’s not a ghost or something behind him.

“Justyce?”

“Hey, Mrs. F. Is Sarah-Jane home?”

“Sure. Come in, come in.”

As Mrs. F stands there with her eyes popping out of her head, Jus thinks maybe he shouldn’t have just shown up with no notice. Not that he made a conscious decision to do that…He got back to school from Martel’s, hopped in his car, and let his instincts lead.

This is where he ended up.

“I should’ve called,” he says. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no, that’s not it at all, I’m just— Well, we’ve really missed you around here.”

They missed him?

“SJ’s up in her room, but do you mind saying hello to Neil? He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Uhh…sure.”

Mrs. F leads him around to the living room where Mr. Friedman is kicked back in his recliner watching reruns of the Final Four. “Neil, look who’s here,” she says.

When Mr. Friedman sees Jus, he sits bolt upright. “Jusmeister!”

“Hey, Mr. F.”

“It’s really you!” Mr. Friedman jumps up to hug Jus, who winces a little from the pressure on his shoulder. “How are you? We’re so glad to see you, son!”

“I can see that.”

The Friedmans laugh.

Jus swallows. It’s a little overwhelming, all this…love.

“Sarah’s in her room if you want to head up, Justyce,” Mrs. F says.

“Thank you. And thanks for the warm welcome. Promise I’ll call first next time.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

Jus smiles and turns to head upstairs.

“Hey, Jusmeister, if you need anything—anything at all, I mean it—don’t hesitate to call us, all right?” Mr. F says from behind him.

At first, Jus recoils. If there’s one thing he can’t handle right now, it’s pity.

But as he looks over his shoulder into the faces of SJ’s parents, he knows this is different.

He clears his throat. “Thanks so much, sir. That really means a lot to me.”

“You betcha, kiddo.”

“Okay, we’ve embarrassed ourselves enough,” Mrs. F says. “Go on up.”

As Jus climbs, he gets nervous. What if SJ isn’t as cool with him dropping in as her parents were? What if she’s busy? What if she’s asleep? What is he even going to say to her?

The door is cracked, and he can hear what sounds like NPR and Carrie Underwood playing simultaneously inside SJ’s room.

Typical.

He knocks.

“Come in.”

She’s stretched out on the bed in her Bras Prep lacrosse shorts and a T-shirt, with an open calculus book in her lap. When she sees it’s him, she sits up just like her dad did, wearing the same expression her mom had.

It makes him smile.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey! Uhh…” She scrambles around for a second like she can’t figure out what to do. Shuts the calc book, sets it aside, and swings her legs around so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “Oh!” She grabs a remote from the nightstand and points it at the speakers attached to her computer on the desk. NPR and Carrie go quiet. “So…You’re, uhh…you’re here.”

Jus laughs. “That’s what your parents said.”

“Oh god, did they totally attack you? I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head. “You’re literally all they talk about these days. I would’ve warned you if I’d known you were coming.”

Jus laughs again. “It’s all good. Actually felt pretty nice.”

She smiles. “Wanna sit?” Points to the empty space beside her.

He sits so close that their shoulders and legs are touching. She’s warm.

“So…what brings you to la casa de Friedman, Mr. McAllister?” She nudges his knee with her own.

He turns to look at her. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, I…umm…” He looks away. “Well—”

“Everything okay, Jus?” She touches his forearm just past his wrist, and the memory of handcuffs overwhelms him even all these months later.

His eyes drop to her hands, and he feels a weight slip off his shoulders. They’re chipped now, but her nails are still painted his favorite color.

Jus stands, pulls SJ up, and wraps her in a hug that lifts her off her feet.

“Umm…okay,” she says.

He inhales a whiff of her fruity shampoo. “I almost joined a gang today,” he says.

“Huh?”

“I almost joined a gang.” He puts her down. “Remember the guys I told you about from the Halloween party?”

“You mean the ones who threatened to shoot you?”

“Yeah. I went to see their leader.”