Other students moved around them without making eye contact, practiced in the art of pretending not to notice. "How was your first night in paradise, Nia?" Tyler's voice dripped with false concern. I hope you found suitable accommodations. I know housing can be challenging for people like you, people like me.

Transfers, Tyler said smoothly. New students, it's always hard to adjust to a higher caliber of education. Brad laughed. Yeah, I bet Detroit public schools didn't prepare you for our academic standards.

I'm doing just fine, thanks. Nia's hands clenched at her sides. Of course you are. I'm sure you'll fit right in.

Connor's smile was razor sharp. Maybe you can tutor Jamal here in Street Smarts. Teach him how to be more authentic. What's that supposed to mean?

Jamal's voice was barely above a whisper. Oh, come on, Jamal. You're so buttoned up, so proper. Maybe hanging out with Nia will help you embrace your heritage. learn some urban culture.

Tyler held up his phone, its camera pointed at them. Speaking of culture, I should document this historic moment. The formation of Riverside High's first. He paused dramatically.

Study group. Put that away, Nia said. It's a public space. I can record whatever I want.

Tyler's finger hovered over the record button. Say something for posterity, Jamal. Maybe perform for us. I don't perform, Jamal said quietly.

Sure you do. It's in your DNA, right? Come on. Bust some rhymes about being smart and stuff.

Brad started beatboxing badly, drawing more attention from passing students. Yo yo, check it. Stop, Jamal said, his face burning with humiliation. What's wrong?

I thought you'd appreciate us taking an interest in your culture, Connor said. Nia stepped forward. Her boxing training making her movements fluid and confident. His culture is being valedictorian while you idiots are repeating junior year.

Tyler's smile faltered for just a moment. Careful, Nia. You're new here. You don't understand the social dynamics yet.

I understand them perfectly. Three losers picking on someone smarter than all of them combined because it makes them feel important. The hallway had grown quieter, students slowing down to watch the confrontation. Tyler noticed the audience and his smile returned wider than before.

You know what? You're absolutely right. Jamal is incredibly smart. Isn't that right, buddy?

Tyler clapped Jamal on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "Top of the class, headed to Harvard, probably a real credit to his people." The phrase hung in the air like poison. Several white students nodded approvingly as if Tyler had said something reasonable instead of racist.

"A shining example," Connor added. "One of the good ones." Nia saw red.

Her fist was halfway to Connor's face before Jamal grabbed her arm. "Don't," he whispered urgently. They're recording. They want you to hit them.

Tyler laughed delightedly. Look at that restraint, guys. Jamal's already teaching her self-control. The warning bell rang and students began moving toward their classrooms.

Tyler pocketed his phone and straightened his letterman jacket. We should get to class. Wouldn't want to be late on our second day, would we, Nia? He walked away backward, still smiling.

See you around, study partners. As the hallway emptied, Nia and Jamal stood in the aftermath, both breathing hard. That was smart, Nia said finally. Stopping me from hitting him.

I've learned their tricks. They say horrible things, then act like victims when you react. Jamal's hands were shaking as he gathered his books. They film everything, edit it to make us look like the aggressors.

How do you stand it? I tell myself it's temporary. Another year and I'm gone. Full scholarship somewhere far away from here.

Jamal's voice was hollow. But now they have you to target, too. I'm sorry. Don't apologize.

I chose to step in. Why? Nia thought about the question as they walked toward their first class. Because in Detroit, we look out for each other.

Because you're smart and kind and you don't deserve this. Because nobody should have to face this alone. For the first time since she'd met him, Jamal smiled. It was small and fragile, but real.

Thanks, he said. I forgot what it felt like to have someone on my side. As they entered their classroom, Nia caught sight of Tyler, Connor, and Brad whispering in the back row, their eyes tracking her and Jamal's every movement. They were planning something.

She could see it in their expressions. But for the first time in 3 years, Jamal wasn't facing them alone. By late March, Nia and Jamal had fallen into a rhythm that felt like survival, and friendship rolled into one. They met at his locker every morning, ate lunch together in the library where Tyler's crew couldn't corner them as easily, and walked to the parking lot together after school.

Three weeks of partnership had shown them both what it meant to have backup. "They superglued my locker shut this morning," Jamal said, prying at the metal door with a credit card. "Third time this month. Did you report it?" To who?

Principal Harris. Jamal's laugh was bitter. He told me last week that maybe I should consider being more approachable if I want to fit in better. Nia watched him struggle with the lock.

Anger building in her chest. "Your parents know about any of this?" Some of it. They're not the turn the other cheek types.

Trust me. My mom's been documenting everything, taking photos of the locker, keeping the notes. She wants to file a complaint with the school board. But but my dad thinks we should wait until we have more evidence.

Build an airtight case. Jamal finally got his locker open, revealing another crude drawing taped inside. Sometimes I think they forget I have to live through this every day while they're building their case. They walked toward first period, passing the bulletin board that had exploded with prom announcements overnight.

Glittery posters promised a night under the stars in flowing script with photos of last year's prom court. All white faces beaming from behind tiaras and sashes. "Six weeks away?" Nia observed, reading the dates.