Page 44 of Ghost in the Night

I think about calling Truth and Kiki, but what do I say? How do I break it to them that I won’t be coming back? That I’m gone and we’re separated for good? They’ve been so cool about everything, with Grandma passing, me going on the road with Dad, searching for ghosts. Are they even going to want to be my friend anymore? What will we have in common? What do kids my age even do here?

In Savannah, the nights seem to bring alive a different energy. Everything seems both quiet and loud, fast but slow, the sky darker, the stars closer. Maybe that’s why ghosts love the night more than the day.

I really shouldn’t be walking around alone, not when there’s a murderer on the loose. That’s something Robby would say.

Maybe I could go back to New York and live with Aunt Peggy. But her one-bedroom apartment is in Brooklyn, andthat might as well be in another state from Harlem. Sure, I would be back in New York where things make sense, but I’d be sleeping on a sofa, with no privacy and Aunt Peggy’s smelly cat.

I turn a corner and hear the familiar thumping of a giant speaker. The kind people set up during block parties in the summer.

Will I never be at a block party again?

I drift toward the sound of old-school R&B music, passing more homes and yards, until I notice one house with dozens of cars parked out front, people heading up the driveway and around to the back, voices carrying over the music. A couple jumps out of a blue pickup truck, the woman carrying a sheet pan of food.

It’s when I get to the driveway that I realize … this is Ms. Trina’s home.

I stand stuck, watching family and friends gather in the backyard again. A wave of sadness comes over me thinking of the home that’s no longer my home. Missing something that’s there but too far away for me to touch. I pull out myphone, staring at the selfie of Grandma and me on the home screen, thinking of the day we took that pic, right outside the D train before school. Grandma liked walking me to the train every morning, our own little ritual. There aren’t subways in Savannah. Is Dad gonna have to drive me to school now?

This isn’t my party, these aren’t my people, this isn’t my home. What am I supposed to do?

More people are filling the yard even though it’s already mad late. Back in Harlem, some block parties wouldn’t end until three in the morning. I weave between the parked trucks in the driveway, trying to stay out of sight so Ms. Trina won’t spot me. I grab my phone, ready to send a 911 text to Truth and Kiki, when I notice I’m not totally alone. On the sidewalk, a teenage boy is leaning against a pickup truck, staring at the house, his eyes far away. A girl walks up to him, the same age, gives him a can of Coke and a bag of chips.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Your momma okay?” she asks, leaning beside him.

“Yeah, I guess. She decided not to come tonight. I know everyone means well, but she’s too worried about Jabari to pretend.”

This has gotta be Jabari’s brother, Jay. I turn my back, focusing on my phone, pretending I’m not listening in on their conversation.

“Man,” Jay mumbles. “It’s like, I keep checking his account, checking to see if he logged in anywhere. He don’t go a day without playing his game. Even on punishment, he’d try to tell Mom that he’s practicing for some competition to win her money. That kid, boy.”

“What the police saying?” the girl asks.

“Not much, as usual. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be able to stay down here looking.”

“So … where you think he at? Someone had to have seen him somewhere.”

“Everyone says he was with my uncle that night. They saw him sitting in the van. But when they found the van, keys still in it, there was no sign of Jabari.”

The girl sighs. “Dang. But … you don’t think he … he …”

I sneak a peek at Jay. He rubs his face, still staring at the ground.

“When Jabari was, like, five, he was playing hide-and-seek with my cousins in this big park. And he hid so good that no one could find him for hours. I mean, everybody was looking. Mom started worrying, thinking he got kidnapped. But Jabari, he loved running around like a little annoying ninja, pretending he was invisible. I got so used to him hiding and popping out that I could almost feel him, you know? So, I don’t know where he’s at, but he can’t be dead … ’cause I can still feel my little brother. And I don’t want to leave yet ’cause if  we go, what if  I can’t feel him no more? Then that means … he may really be … gone.”

Jay shakes and sobs into his hand as the girl rubs his shoulder.

Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision, and I sprint off into the night.

Because I realize the longer we’ve been away from Harlem, the harder it is for me to feel Grandma too, and now that our apartment is gone … will I ever feel her again?

FIFTEEN

Iasked my mom if you could move in with us, and she shot that down real quick,” Kiki says over FaceTime. “Says she loves you but got her hands full.”

“So did my parents,” Truth says, patting her bonnet. “Mad wack. We could fit you in my room, easy.”

I sniff under the covers, the sun coming through the blinds. I walked into the guesthouse around ten last night and finally called Kiki and Truth, then cried myself to sleep.