03

The months that followed were slow and careful. MJ kept coming back to the Morgan house — not every day, and never without reason — but often enough that Mama Morgan started leaving a little extra food on the stove and setting an extra fork on the table like it was normal.

It didn't become easy for MJ, not right away. She still flinched at loud noises and sometimes froze up in class when called on. But with Derek sitting beside her — passing her notes, nudging her when she zoned out, whispering answers when she was too scared to speak — she began to breathe a little easier.

She smiled more now. Not big smiles, not all the time — but enough that people started to notice the shift.

Derek protected her in ways that didn't always look like protection. He made her laugh when she looked sad. He didn't push when she stayed quiet. And when other kids tried teasing her, he stood taller — arms crossed, chin up — and made it clear that messing with MJ meant messing with him.

They did a class project together on sea turtles. MJ drew all the pictures with careful colored-pencil strokes, and Derek read the facts out loud during their presentation. She didn't even look down once.

For the first time in her life, MJ felt like she belonged somewhere.

But not everything changed.

Some nights she didn't come over. Some mornings she showed up late with her sleeves tugged down too far or her eyes rimmed red.

Derek noticed. He didn't always say anything. But Mama Morgan hugged her tighter on those days. Gave her a second plate. Gave her space.

And then came second-grade graduation.

The classroom was buzzing with excitement. Parents filing in, kids fidgeting in their best clothes, teachers handing out programs and last-minute hugs.

Derek kept glancing at the door.

MJ wasn't there.

Not at her seat. Not with the other kids. Not even in the hallway.

He craned his neck toward the entrance like maybe she was just running late. She was always late. But the ceremony started. Kids got up one by one to accept their little diplomas and take awkward pictures in paper caps.

Still no MJ.

Derek's name got called. He walked up, grinning for the camera, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He looked again on his way back to his seat.

Still nothing.

There were cupcakes afterward, a class party with streamers and music and sticky fingers. Parents took pictures. Kids hugged their teachers goodbye for the summer.

But MJ never showed.

She didn't come to say goodbye. She didn't take her seat. She didn't collect her sea turtle award or the "Most Creative" certificate Mrs. Porter said she earned.

And just like that — school was over.

Derek sat in the backseat of the car on the ride home, fidgeting with the paper tassel on his cap. He didn't say anything, but Mama Morgan didn't need him to.

She turned the car onto MJ's street without asking.

The curtains were drawn. The yard empty. No sign of MJ.

_

Summer in Chicago didn't wait for anyone.

The streets were already thick with heat by late June. Bikes zipped down sidewalks, kids screamed from sprinklers, someone was always grilling something. But for Derek, the summer started quiet.

Too quiet.

It had been two weeks since graduation. Two weeks since MJ disappeared.

No calls. No knocks at the door. No sneaky taps on his window at night asking if he wanted to ride bikes or throw pebbles at the train tracks. Just... nothing.

Derek didn't ask questions at first. Not directly. But Mama Morgan saw the way he got quiet every time they passed MJ's street. The way he didn't even touch his pudding cup that first Friday night.

"Baby, you want to invite one of your boys over to play ball?" she asked gently one afternoon, towel-drying her hands after doing dishes.

Derek shrugged. "Nah."

She gave a knowing hum. Then didn't push.

But one humid July morning, he had enough.

He got up early, dressed quick, and walked to MJ's house. Not even telling his mama this time.

The grass was longer now. Uncut. The house even quieter than usual.

He knocked once. Twice.

Nothing.

He knocked again, louder. A dog barked somewhere down the block.

Just as he was about to give up, the door cracked open.

MJ stood there. Barefoot. A bruise under one eye, mostly faded now but still there. Her hair was messier than usual, and she had on a shirt two sizes too big, like it didn't really belong to her.

She looked at him like he was a ghost. Like she didn't expect anyone to remember she existed.

"...Hi," she said quietly.

Derek stared at her for a second. Then shoved his hands in his pockets. "You missed graduation."

MJ looked down. "I know."

"You got 'Most Creative.' Mrs. Porter read out what you wrote for your dream job. You said you wanted to be a spy or a girl detective or something. Everybody laughed."

She gave the tiniest smile.

"...You never came over after that either," he added, voice more serious now.

MJ looked over her shoulder. The house behind her was dark.

"I wasn't allowed."

Derek nodded once. "You okay?"

She didn't answer that.

But when he turned to go, thinking that might be the end of it — she stepped outside after him.

"Wait," she said, hugging herself. "Do you... maybe wanna go to the tracks?"

Derek turned around, face unreadable. Then he gave a shrug.

"Yeah. Let's go."

And just like that, summer started again.