The girl at the next table wouldn't stop talking.
Tiana was trying to eat her lunch—a sandwich she'd made that morning, the bread slightly stale—but the girl's voice carried across the cafeteria like a bell.
"My brother's going to boarding school next fall," the girl said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "In Virginia. He's gonna live there. Like, in a dorm. He's so excited."
Her friends oohed and aahed. Tiana chewed her sandwich and tried not to listen.
"He says he can't wait to get out of this house," the girl continued. "Out of Baltimore. He says he wants to see the world."
Get out of this house. Out of Baltimore.
Tiana's hand paused over her sandwich. She thought about Malcolm. His job. The way he came home with dark circles under his eyes. The way he talked about saving money, about the future, about things she wasn't always part of.
He's graduating this year.
The thought came out of nowhere. She set her sandwich down.
He's graduating. He's going to high school. He could go anywhere.
She thought about the job. Why had he really started working? Money, yes. But also—what? Independence? A way out? A way to leave?
Her chest tightened. The cafeteria noise faded to a hum.
He's going to leave. Just like Mama. Just like Grandma Ruth. Just like Grandpa James.
"Tiana."
She didn't move.
"Tiana." A small hand pushed her arm. "Scooch over."
Maya. Her six‑year‑old sister was climbing onto the bench beside her, a carton of milk in one hand, a bag of crackers in the other. Her hair was coming loose from its braids, and there was a smear of peanut butter on her cheek.
Tiana blinked. The cafeteria came back into focus—the noise, the light, the girl still talking about her brother's boarding school.
"You okay?" Maya asked, her head tilted.
"Yeah." Tiana scooted over. "I'm okay."
She picked up her sandwich. She didn't eat it.
---
For the rest of the day, the thought sat in her chest like a stone.
She watched Malcolm in the hallway between classes. He was talking to a teacher, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his face serious. He was tall now—taller than most of the boys in his grade. His jaw was sharp, his shoulders broad. He looked like someone who was almost grown.
He's going to leave.
She watched him at dinner. He sat at the end of the table, Maya beside him, cutting her meat into small pieces. He didn't talk much. He never talked much. But he made sure Maya ate, made sure Tiana had enough bread, made sure the two of them were okay before he took a bite of his own food.
He's going to leave, and we're going to be alone.
After dinner, she watched him do his homework at the desk in their room. He had his headphones on, his head bent over a textbook, his pencil moving across the page. He looked focused. Determined. Like someone who had plans.
She lay on her bed, her sketchbook open in her lap, but she wasn't drawing. She was staring at the back of his head.
He turned around. Caught her looking.
"What?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing."
He looked at her for a moment longer, then turned back to his homework.
Tiana looked down at her sketchbook. She'd drawn a house—not the house on Kenwood Avenue, but a different one. Smaller. Warmer. A house with three windows and a front porch and smoke coming from the chimney.
He's not going to be in that house, she thought. He's going to be somewhere else. Somewhere far.
She closed the sketchbook.
---
That night, she lay in bed and listened to the dark.
Maya was asleep beside her, her breathing soft, her hand curled around Tiana's arm. Malcolm was on the floor, his back against the wall, his eyes closed. She knew he wasn't sleeping. He never slept when she was still awake.
She thought about her mother. The way Diane had left without saying goodbye. Not on purpose—not like that—but gone all the same. One day she was there, promising a real home. The next day she was on the floor, and the world had tilted sideways.
She thought about Grandma Ruth. The kitchen floor. The bacon burning on the stove. The way her grandmother's hand had been reaching for something she'd never hold.
She thought about Grandpa James. The hospital hallway. His hand on his chest. The way his face had gone gray, and then he was gone too.
Everyone leaves, she thought. Everyone.
She looked at Malcolm. His chest rose and fell. His face was calm in the dim light from the window.
You're going to leave too. And I'm going to be alone with Maya. And I don't know how to be the oldest. I don't know how to be you.
She closed her eyes. The tears came, silent, the kind she'd learned to cry without sound. She didn't wipe them away. She let them fall onto her pillow, and she held Maya's hand, and she didn't sleep.
---
The next morning, Malcolm caught her staring again.
They were at the kitchen table, eating cereal. Maya was humming to herself, swinging her legs. Richard was in the living room, the newspaper crackling. Susan was at the counter, her back to them.
Malcolm looked up from his bowl. His eyes met hers. He saw something on her face—something she'd been trying to hide.
He set his spoon down.
"Hey," he said. His voice was quiet, meant only for her. "What's wrong?"
Tiana looked at him. Her throat was tight. The words were right there—are you going to leave, are you going to forget us, please don't go—but she couldn't let them out.
She shook her head. She looked down at her cereal.
Malcolm waited. She didn't answer.
The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and Maya's soft humming. Susan didn't turn around. Richard turned a page of his newspaper.
Malcolm reached across the table and touched her hand.
"Tiana," he said again.
She pulled her hand back. Not mean. Just—careful. She couldn't let him hold her right now. If he held her, she would cry. And if she cried, she would have to explain. And if she explained, he would promise something he might not be able to keep.
She picked up her spoon. She ate a bite of cereal. The milk was warm. The cereal was soggy.
Malcolm watched her for a long moment. Then he picked up his own spoon and ate his breakfast.
He didn't ask again.
But his eyes stayed on her for the rest of the meal.
Tiana didn't look up.
---