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but when I reach my room, she’s too tired to talk. “Keep me close,” is all she says before closing her eyes and falling asleep once more. I carefully slip her into the inside pocket of my coat. Then I grab my book bag and head back downstairs. Before leaving for school, I check the bolt on the basement door and make a mental note to ask the bird more about whatever it is that’s hunting her.

8.
    I t’s Thursday. After my second tutoring session with Keem, I come out of the library and Nyla’s there waiting for me. “About time,” she says, rolling her eyes with pretend irritation. “What took you so long?”
    “Sorry,” I say. “I—I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”
    Nyla pushes herself off the wall and nods at the golden bird she’d been leaning against. The façade of the library is covered with gold images of people and creatures from famous stories. Nyla chose the phoenix rising from the flames. “You said you were going to show me your bird-watching spot, remember?”
    “Oh, yeah.” I look at Keem and figure I better introduce him to Nyla. “You know Keem, right?”
    Nyla gives Keem a once-over with her eyes and then says, “Hey.”
    “Hey,” he replies without revealing a trace of the excitement I know he must be feeling inside.
    “So…I guess I’ll see you next week, Keem. On Tuesday.”
    Before Keem can reply, Nyla taunts him by saying, “I guess a jock like you is way too cool to look at birds.”
    Keem smiles without smiling. Only super cool kids can do that.
    “If you’re going over to the park, I’ll hang with you for a while. I can’t stay too late, though.” Keem looks at me and says, “ Qadaa .”
    I nod, liking that he trusts me to remember the word’s meaning. But apparently it’s not a secret after all because Nyla says, “You’re Muslim?”
    Keem nods, but I see him grow tense, waiting for the joke or the insult that’s to come.
    “Which mosque do you go to?” Nyla asks, surprising us both.
    “The one on Fulton Street. Know it?”
    “Sure,” Nyla replies as she leads us down the stairs and over to the street. “My girl goes to that mosque. Sanaa Jenkins—you know her?”
    Keem nods. “Since we were little kids.”
    “She says you were a real hell-raiser back in the day.”
    Keem looks genuinely surprised. “Me? I don’t think so. My dad doesn’t play that. Ask D—he knows what my dad’s like.”
    Nyla turns to me for confirmation. “I only met Mr. Diallo once, but…he seems pretty strict,” I say.
    “You don’t know strict ’til you’ve met my dad,” she says before darting across the street and nearly getting hit by a car.
    Keem and I wait for the traffic to pass and catch up with Nyla. She’s standing on the triangular island that divides the busy street. I grab hold of her bag to keep her from rushing out into traffic again.
    I’m holding Nyla’s bag, but Keem’s the one holding her attention. They’re still talking about all the things Sanaa Jenkins said about Keem. I hate to think it, but maybe Nyla has only been nice to me in order to get close to Keem. But Nyla’s the prettiest girl in the whole school—she doesn’t need my help to hook up with anyone. And she has to know Keem’s into her…
    Suddenly Nyla grabs my hand and pulls me into the street. “Move it or lose it, D!”
    We run across the street, laughing at our recklessness. Keem’s trapped on the island and has to wait for the light to change. While we’re waiting for him, Nyla turns to me and says, “Do you mind if he comes with us? I can tell him to get lost if you want me to.”
    I’d much rather be alone with Nyla in the park, but Keem will be destroyed if Nyla tells him to go. “Keem’s a good guy,” I say. Not a ringing endorsement, but true.
    Nyla watches Keem as the light changes and he does the jock-trot over to where we are. “Ready to spot some exotic birds?”
    Before Keem and I can say anything, Nyla turns and heads into the park. We follow