Chapter 1

1: New Kid on the Block

“Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous.” Kit Barlow tucked Ebon’s shirt in. The seven-year-old swatted Kit’s hand away, narrowing his big brown eyes.

“I ain’t nervous. We’re gonna be late.”

“Aren’t. Don’t talk like Rashaun’s Uncle Arvel.” Kit pulled out his phone to check. “And we’ve got plenty of time. Do you have your book? Do you want to practice the pledge one more time?”

“Dad!”

Ebon threw open the apartment door and danced from foot to foot in the hallway. Kit gave up and locked the door behind them. Hopefully the boy hadn’t forgotten anything important. He’d been counting down the days until he turned seven, so he could join the Cub Scouts. Scouting had been the subject of Ebon’s conversations since his best friend Rashaun had joined earlier that year. Kit would be willing to swear Ebon had not only read the entire rulebook already, but had memorized most of it.

Ebon ran to the elevator and punched the down button. Kit did a mental double-check while they waited. Scouting uniform: clean and perfectly pressed—and hadn’t that been a bitch to figure out how to iron?Book: clutched tightly in Ebon’s right hand. Official cap: tugged down on Ebon’s dark curls, heritageof his African-American mother. Wallet and keys: in Kit’s pocket.

The boy looked up for a moment, then frowned. “Dad, your hair.”

With a shrug, Kit pulled an elastic band from one pocket and quickly tugged his nearly waist-length black hair into a ponytail. Lately, Ebon had developed a thing about the hair, claiming he didn’t want people to think his dad was a girl.

“Better?” Kit checked his reflection in the elevator door and tucked in a few stray strands. His green eyes had a faintly worried expression. That had been there for a while now. Kit wondered if he should be concerned. He was too young to be a worrywart.

“You could cut it, you know.” Ebon scampered into the elevator when the doors finally opened. “Rod wouldn’t mind.”

“He would, actually.” Rod believed that any heavy metal musician worth his salt had more hair than Cher. Kit punched the “close door” button a couple of times. One day, this old machine was just going to quit working and they’d have to take the stairs. One day, maybe Kit could afford a nicer apartment. “You know we have to look the part for the crowd, kid. Quit worrying so much.”

Ebon’s lower lip stuck out. “Nobody else’s dad has girly hair. Or all those tattoos.”

“Half the kids in your class don’t even have a dad, Ebon.” Kit tugged his long sleeves further down to cover his tattooed arms. “Much less one who’d fork over all this money for Cub Scouts.”

Ebon shoved through the opening elevator doors into the lobby. “I know, I know. I need to be grateful for what we’ve got.”

“And a bit less sarcastic about it, please.”

At least Ebon had the sense to stay close while they walked to the bus stop. He’d never been one of those kids who darted off into the crowd or wandered away from his father. Kit was grateful he was such asmart little fellow, and so street-wise at his age. He might roll his eyes at his father’s fussing, buthe dutifully held Kit’s hand as they crossed the street. They only had to wait ten minutes for the cross-town bus. Ebon’s school was only a few stops along the route, too, which made getting him there and back easier.

As the bus neared the school, Ebon’s excitement grew too much for him. “I can’t wait. Do you think they’ll ask me to tie any knots? I can do most of them already.”

Kit patted his son’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine. I’m sure your leader will make sure you have a good time. Just remember your manners.”

“Dad!” Ebon shifted on his seat as he watched out the window. “Rashaun says there are two leaders, anyhow. Mr. Lopez and Mr. Hill. He says they’re p cool.”

“I think I’m p cool myself.”

“Not with that ponytail.”

The bus jerked to a hissing stop at the curb and Ebon darted out ahead of Kit, who trotted down the stepsat a more sedate pace. Ebon grabbed Kit’s hand and dragged him toward the school. “Hurry up, dad. Rashaun’s already there.”

Kit spotted Ebon’s friend on the sidewalk, waving for Ebon to join him. Rashaun’s mother had scraped together the money for Rashaun’s uniform, but it was already slightly too small for the growing boy, and it looked like it had last been ironed when they bought it. Raising a kid on your own was hard, but Kit had always figured that the kid’s needs came first, even if that included pressing a ridiculously complicated uniform.