street and did not let his attention wander.
When he went inside, it was later than it had ever been. She was there, so much like he'd pictured her that he thought she wasn't there at all. She was too expected, on the sofa with her pillows and Kleenex box, her book, her half-filled glass of water.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“It's almost a quarter past ten.”
“I know.”
“Where've you been?”
“Just out.”
He couldn't tell her anything. He couldn't take her with him.
“You can't stay out this late,” she said.
He watched the room, its bright disorder. She'd started buying 100-watt bulbs for the lamps. There were shopping bags on the floor. A fishhook of hair lay sweat-plastered to her cheek.
“Did you hear what I said?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then answer.”
“What's the question?”
She took a breath, and another. “The question,” she said. “The question is what makes you think it's okay at your age to stay out half the night like this.”
“It isn't half the night.”
“Do you know what it's like, sitting here since three in the afternoon, thinking you're on your way home from school? Seven hours ago. If Cassandra hadn't called me, I'd have had no idea where you were the whole seven hours, instead of just from six o'clock until now.”
“I wasn't doing anything wrong,” he said.
“You have to call me. You have to tell me where you are. Did you have any dinner? Did you do your homework?”
“Sure.”
“Jamal—”
“What?” he said.
“Please don't do this. I can't—I need you to be a little bit helpful. I need you to come home from school in the afternoons. I need you to tell me where you are when you go out.”
“Uh-huh.”
She took a Kleenex from the box, didn't wipe her eyes or blow her nose. She tore it in half. She held the two pieces.
“I don't know what works with you,” she said. “I'll do pretty much whatever I have to. Give me a hint, all right?”
He couldn't say anything to her. They both knew what they wanted, but when the old days wouldn't open for them they were trapped. She was wrong on the sofa. He was wrong everywhere.
“Jamal?” she said. Her eyes had the sickness, the plastic look. Wet but not wet. He tried to tell her that nothing would work, and the only way he could say it was by going into his room. He could feel her breathing in the living room. He lay in his bed, in the dark. He thought about himself, lying in the dark, thinking about himself. Not thinking about her.
The next day he came home and found his uncle and aunt there. His aunt had brought Ben. They sat around the living room with his mother, sipping water like it was delicious. Had they been waiting for him?
“Hi, Jamal,” Uncle Will said. Uncle Will performed his business: skeptical half smile, modest nod, a whole earnest nervous knuckle-cracking demonstration of attention.
“Hi,” Jamal said.
Aunt Susan kissed him. She was always sure. She moved in straight lines.
Ben shook his hand. He was a boy who shook hands. He had shame around him, little invisible rays of it. He had a strangled politeness.
Jamal figured it—he'd surprised them by coming home on time. They were here to help his mother through his absence. His presence made a problem.
“You've grown,” Aunt Susan said. It wasn't true. He hadn't grown half an inch in the last year.
Ben had grown almost a foot. Something invisible and frightened was threaded through his muscles and manners, the clean broad blue of his polo shirt. There was something starved about him, for all his bulk.
“How's it going?” Uncle Will asked.
“Okay,” Jamal answered. Quickly, he added, “Ben, you want to go play video games?”
Ben looked at his mother. Aunt Susan looked at Jamal's mother, who looked at Uncle Will.
“You just got here,” Jamal's mother said.
“I know.”
Ben said, “Okay.” His voice came from the big blue swell of his chest, spoke through his mouth.
“Half an hour,” Aunt Susan said. “No more.”
Uncle Will said, “It'd be nice to spend some time with you, Jamal. I hardly ever get to see you.”
“Uh-huh.”
What he hated about other people's concern was how visible it made you. All he wanted was to be unseen, and to watch.
“You're just going to the place on Second Avenue?” his mother asked.
“We'll be back in half an hour,” he said.
“Okay. Bye.”
He got out the door, with Ben behind him. He took a quick look back at his mother and his aunt and uncle. He thought about