4

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING MAMA KNOCKS ON MY BEDroom door so that we
can have breakfast together. Motherdaughter time or something.
I woke up wondering if that Wakeful Dream really happened, but once I
took a look at what else was inside the briefcase I was convinced. . . . My
brother made a dream for me, put it inside a pair of shades, and had it
delivered to my apartment. What kind of place can do that?
I intend to find out.
“You all right, Babygirl?”
Mama’s voice snaps me out of my daze. “Oh . . . um, yeah, I’m fine.” I
scoop up some cereal with my spoon.
Mama watches me from across our small dining room table. I can tell
she’s worried about how I’m doing after what happened yesterday at
school.
There’s a huge part of me that wants to tell her about Quinton’s Wakeful
Dream. She deserves to know. But how do you explain being visited by
your missing brother in a dream where you took a flying boat to go look at
some underwater trains without sounding delusional?
And even if she did believe me (which I doubt), do I really want to risk
getting her hopes up? She’s only just gotten to where she isn’t crying in her
room every day.
So I keep quiet.
“What I did yesterday was for your own good.” Mama sighs. “I miss him
too. I really do. But right now, it’s just you and me. It seems harsh, but it’s
my job to give you the best possible future. That can’t happen if you keep
your whole life on pause wishing for something that may never happen.”
“I get it,” I say quickly. Anything not to have that argument again.

“Then you’ll also understand why you’re grounded until I decide you
aren’t.”
I nearly spit out my cereal. “Seriously?”
“You know better than to go around shoving people. Even if they deserve
it.” Mama stands up from the table and grabs her purse. “I’ve got to get to
work a little early today. One of the girls has a sick baby at home. Don’t let
me find out you’ve been out that door. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The words stop Mama in her tracks, and she gives me a good looking
over. “Only time I’m ma’am instead of Mama is when you’re up to
something.”
I put on my most innocent expression and shake my head.
“Well, before you get any ideas, I’ve got Mrs. Walters watching the place
while I’m gone. And you know she don’t have anything better to do than
worry about what everybody else is doing.”
“I understand,” I say. Mama only said not to let her find out. She never
actually said I couldn’t go.

Back in my room, I spread out everything from the briefcase on my bed—
the greenandpurple suit jacket and pants, two sheets of paper that were
tucked inside the envelope, and the shades that triggered last night’s
Wakeful Dream. I try on the shades for like the tenth time this morning, but
I still can’t get them to work again.
I settle for reading over the paperwork from Quinton’s envelope one
more time. The first page reads:

(Mandatory: Staple atop all outgoing paperwork)
WARNING
WARNING
(in case you somehow missed the first one)
WARNING
(surely you get the idea by now)

The following information is classified, as it refers to a location that handles several million
very well-kept secrets. As a result, reading this file without the proper permissions may result
in any number of dire consequences that include but are not limited to:
Death by bottomless pit
Being locked inside a metal canister and shot into space
Being fed to a certain creature, in a certain underwater lair, that shall, for the purpose of
keeping its existence a secret, remain nameless
I reread that first paragraph like three times. I mean, bottomless pits and
secret underwater creatures?
Now then, should you happen across this paperwork by accident and wish to know how to
avoid such consequences (and we’ll know if you’ve peeked), you are to do the following:
Seal it up in an envelope, wrap that envelope in no fewer than three yellow blankets
(preferably all the same shade), stuff it all in a box, tape that box shut, and mail it to the
fo
llowing address:
None of Your Business
Don’t Ask Which St.
New York, NY 54321
Of course, if you have been deemed special, and thus do have the proper permissions,
please feel free to move on to the next page.

—C. Kretts

Before last night, I would’ve laughed at that warning. But something tells
me that whoever these people are that Quinton works for, they mean every
word. Thankfully, Quinton made it pretty clear that this was meant for me.
The second page confirms it.

Nomination for Consideration
Nominating Party: Quinton Javon Peters
On behalf of: Amari Renee Peters

To be used no sooner than the latter’s twelfth birthday and no later than the latter’s eighteenth
birthday.
Please bring this nomination, in person, to: 1440 N. Main St., Atlanta, GA 30305, for
the requisite interview.
Upon arrival at this address, enter the leftmost elevator alone. Once the doors close, press
the basement button (B) twenty-six times and await further instruction.

Now it’s just a matter of getting there. Unfortunately, that warning isn’t
the scariest part of what was inside the briefcase. One more Postit is
attached to the leg of the pantsuit:

Wear this suit to the interview

Clearly, Quinton has lost his mind. He wants me to go around this
neighborhood in a greenandpurple suit? I won’t make it out of the building
before someone cracks a joke. And I can’t afford to get into another fight. I
sit down on the bed, biting my lip.
It all feels so unreal. This whole thing is crazy.
But what if it is real? What if this is my one chance to find out more
about my brother? My one chance to bring him home.
Fine. I’ll check it out. And I’ll wear this hideous suit too.

I creep down the stairs of our building as if I’m hiding from the bad guy in
a scary movie. The nomination is tucked inside my jacket pocket.
Thankfully, the street is clear. Until a bunch of smaller kids rush out of the
next building. They point and giggle, and I’m so distracted I forget to duck
beneath Mrs. Walters’s window. She looks right at me and gets to jotting in
her little notebook. I’m so dead when Mama gets home from work.
Stupid ugly suit. I get to the bus stop in the worst mood and plop myself
down on the bench. A peek at my phone tells me the bus should be here any
minute. It can’t come fast enough.

A clean, cherryred Camaro screeches to a stop in front of me. The
windows all roll down at once, and some boys around eighteen or nineteen
poke their heads out.
One boy with long dreads grins at me. “Hey, lil mama, you lost or
something? I think the circus left last week.” The whole car bursts into
laughter.
“Just leave me alone,” I say, cheeks burning.
“Where the rest of the Skittles at?”
More laughter.
“Don’t you have someplace else to be?” I growl.
That’s when the back door on the other side of the Camaro opens. Jayden
hops out and jogs around the car. “Y’all leave my little buddy alone.”
The guys in the car make some more jokes about us being boyfriend and
girlfriend before speeding off.
Jayden takes a seat next to me on the bench. He looks like he’s grown
another six inches since I last saw him up close like this. Still seems way
too young for all that height. His gold chain sparkles in the sunlight and
those Jordans are brandnew. “Looking good, ’Mari. I’m feelin’ the curly
fro.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile. “Feels like forever since anybody called me
that.”
He shrugs. “You don’t hang with us anymore. Not since Quinton . . . you
know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Truth is, even though we’re in the same grade, I only
know Jayden through the tutoring program at the rec center where Quinton
used to volunteer. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but all my old friends
were kids my brother knew first.
Jayden laughs suddenly. “So I gotta ask. What’s up with this suit? Is this
how them rich folks dress?”
“Ha ha,” I say. “No, this is for an interview. It’s . . . well, it’s hard to
explain.”
“Oh, so you trying to get a summer job or something?”
I nod. “Something like that.”
Jayden’s expression turns serious. He glances around before meeting my
gaze again. “If you need some cash, I can loan you some.” He reaches
inside his pocket and pulls out a roll of twentydollar bills. “Pay you back
for all the times you and your brother looked out for me.”

Jayden doesn’t look it now, but he’s had it worse than a lot of kids living
out here. Me and Quinton always had Mama to support us. I can remember
going to visit Jayden and him not even knowing where his mom was that
day. Or what he was going to eat that night. Me looking out for him was
just me sharing whatever I had at the time. Sometimes it was just half my
candy bar. He was always so grateful.
I search Jayden’s eyes for a joke, but he seems totally serious. That is so
much money. Enough that Mama wouldn’t have to worry over bills for a
good while. But there’s no way I can take it. “I know whose money that is.
Those boys are into some bad stuff. They’re always getting arrested.”
Jayden shoves the money back into his pocket. “Man, you don’t know
anything about them. At least they care what happens to me.”
Quinton’s old warning to me comes flashing through my head. You’re not
going to change the world unless you hang with people who want to change
the world too. Fast money and selling stuff that hurts other people ain’t
good. Be better than that.
“My brother cares,” I say. “And I know those boys don’t give you all
these nice things without wanting something in return. Tell me you didn’t
drop out of school to run with them.”
“I do what I gotta do.” Jayden frowns as he meets my eyes. “Getting
good grades don’t help me eat. And even if it did, there ain’t nobody to help
me study no more. Them people they got tutoring now don’t understand.
Always lookin’ down on me, tellin’ me what I should already know.
Quinton wasn’t like that. He could explain things in a way that made it all
make sense.”
Those words hit hard. It’s a reminder that me and Mama aren’t the only
people who depended on Quinton. That tutoring program is one more thing
on a long list of stuff that’s gotten worse since his disappearance.
I lean in closer to Jayden. “What if there’s a way to get Quinton back
here? Would you give the tutoring program another try?”
Jayden gives me a puzzled look. “You saying you know where he is?”
The bus turns the corner.
“Not exactly . . .” I say. “But I might’ve figured out a way to find him.
Just promise me you won’t do anything that could mess up your future.
He’d be really disappointed.”
I pause a second before getting on the bus, but Jayden doesn’t give me an
answer.

Once I’ve taken my seat, I meet his eyes again through the window.
Jayden shakes his head but gives me the biggest smile. “Okay, ’Mari,” he
mouths.