Chapter 3
Dad didn't hesitate.
"Show me the message."
I handed him my phone.
He read it once.
Then again.
His jaw tightened.
Mom moved beside him.
"What happened?"
Dad showed her.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh, Lord."
I felt panic rising.
"Ava has a little brother, Dad. His name is Elijah. He's only five."
Dad nodded.
"I know."
I stared at him.
"How?"
He looked at me.
"I remember Tasha talking about her children at work."
Mom was already reaching for her phone.
"We need to find out whether they're safe."
Dad looked at me.
"Malik, can you call Ava?"
I nodded.
My hands trembled as I pressed her name.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then she answered.
"Malik?"
Her voice sounded small.
"Are you okay?"
She hesitated.
"We're packing."
My stomach twisted.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
I heard a child crying in the background.
Elijah.
Then Ava whispered, "Mom says we're going to stay somewhere tonight."
Dad leaned closer.
"Malik, ask whether her mother can speak with us."
I swallowed.
"Ava, can I talk to your mama?"
There was a pause.
Then I heard footsteps.
A woman's voice came through the phone.
"Hello?"
Dad gently took it.
"Tasha? This is Marcus Johnson."
Silence.
Then the woman whispered, "Marcus?"
"Yes."
He took a breath.
"My son Malik is friends with Ava."
I watched his face.
He continued.
"We heard you may need somewhere safe to stay tonight."
Tasha began speaking quickly.
"Oh, Marcus, I'm sorry. I didn't know Ava was calling anybody."
Dad's expression softened.
"You don't need to apologize."
She sounded embarrassed.
"We're handling it."
Dad looked toward Mom.
Then answered.
"Tasha, are you and the children somewhere safe right now?"
There was a long silence.
Finally, she whispered, "We're still at the apartment."
Dad nodded.
"Okay."
He asked whether she had spoken with the landlord or a local housing assistance organization.
She said she had made several calls.
The landlord had agreed to give her until the end of the evening to arrange her departure.
She had nowhere confirmed to go.
Mom reached for the phone.
"Tasha, this is Nia Johnson."
I watched Mom's face.
She listened for several minutes.
Then said firmly, "We can help you find a safe place for tonight."
Tasha began crying.
I could hear it through the speaker.
Mom's eyes filled.
"Please don't be embarrassed."
After the call, Dad looked at me.
"Malik, get your shoes."
I jumped up.
"Are we going to help?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
Mom grabbed her keys.
Grandma stood.
"I'm coming too."
Dad looked at her.
"Ma, we'll need to talk later."
Grandma nodded.
"I know."
Then she reached for her purse.
"But right now, those babies need help."
Dad didn't argue.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived outside Ava's apartment building.
It was an older complex near the edge of town.
Several windows were covered with cardboard.
The parking lot lights flickered.
I spotted Ava sitting on the front steps beside a small blue suitcase.
Elijah leaned against her shoulder.
Tasha stood nearby holding a cardboard box.
When Ava saw me, she jumped up.
"Malik!"
I ran toward her.
She looked like she'd been crying.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
Then shook her head.
I wanted to hug her.
But I wasn't sure whether she'd want that in front of everyone.
So I stood beside her instead.
Dad approached Tasha.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was pulled into a loose bun.
Dark circles surrounded her eyes.
"Marcus."
Dad nodded.
"Tasha."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dad said, "I'm sorry."
Tasha looked confused.
"For what?"
"For not following up when you asked about work."
She shook her head.
"You don't owe me anything."
Dad's expression changed.
"I told you I'd ask around."
Tasha looked away.
"I know."
Mom stepped forward.
"Let's make sure you and the kids have somewhere safe tonight."
Tasha started crying.
She tried to hide it.
But she couldn't.
"I'm sorry."
Mom hugged her gently.
"Stop apologizing."
I looked at Ava.
Her eyes were fixed on the ground.
"Malik?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you tell them?"
I swallowed.
"About the groceries?"
She nodded.
I looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry."
She sighed.
"I promised Mama I could handle things."
I shook my head.
"Ava, you're twelve."
She looked at me.
"So are you."
I didn't know what to say.
Then she whispered, "I didn't want Elijah to be scared."
I looked toward her little brother.
He was holding a worn stuffed dinosaur.
His eyes were red.
My chest hurt.
Dad and Mom helped Tasha arrange temporary lodging through a local family assistance organization, with a hotel room secured for the night while longer-term housing support was assessed.
Grandma bought dinner for everyone.
I helped Ava carry her school backpack.
For the first time in weeks, I saw her smile.
A small smile.
But real.
At the hotel, Elijah immediately climbed onto one of the beds.
He bounced once.
Then laughed.
Tasha covered her mouth.
Mom smiled through her tears.
Dad stood beside the doorway.
I noticed him watching the children.
His expression was different now.
Not angry.
Not confused.
Determined.
Before we left, Tasha approached him.
"Marcus, thank you."
He shook his head.
"We'll work on the next steps tomorrow."
She looked overwhelmed.
"I don't know how I'll repay you."
Dad answered quietly.
"Let's focus on getting you stable first."
Tasha began crying again.
I looked at Ava.
She whispered, "Thank you, Malik."
I shook my head.
"You don't have to thank me."
She smiled.
Then reached into her backpack.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"Here."
I opened it.
It was a drawing.
Two boys standing beside a car wash.
One was me.
The other was Elijah.
Above us, she'd written:
MY HERO.
My eyes filled.
I looked at her.
"Ava."
She smiled shyly.
"You helped us when nobody else knew."
I swallowed.
Then carefully folded the drawing.
On the drive home, Dad was quiet.
Mom rested her hand on his arm.
Grandma looked out the window.
I held Ava's drawing against my chest.
Finally, Dad spoke.
"Malik."
I looked up.
"Yes, sir?"
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
"I'm proud of you."
My eyes burned.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"Really."
I smiled.
Then Dad added something that made everyone quiet.
"But there's something I need to tell you about our own family."
Mom turned toward him.
"Marcus?"
Dad swallowed.
"I haven't been completely honest about work."
My stomach tightened.
He continued.
"The warehouse isn't doing well."
Mom stared at him.
"What do you mean?"
Dad gripped the steering wheel.
"I've been told my department may be eliminated."
I felt cold.
He looked at me in the mirror.
"And those old sneakers aren't the only thing I've been trying to hide."
The car went silent.
Dad took a shaky breath.
May you like
"I might lose my job."
And suddenly, the reason he'd been so angry about those two-hundred-dollar shoes became painfully clear.
