When I walk onto Iverson's campus, the Boys are too far away to see but still close enough to hear. Their big laughs ricochet off all the brick and money like a pinball. It's tunnel-­y here, especially at night, every path unnecessarily skinny because it's lined with trees and low stone walls. It makes it so sounds bounce, all the time. Birds singing. Rain falling. Even when you whisper, it feels like everyone is listening.
God, I used to spend so much time here with Nik before he graduated. Hanging out with him after IV meetings. Watching his home soccer games against Billingsley, Anderson Prep, and Seton. Hiding under the stone bridge when we were supposed to be in class, but he'd text, begging for a kiss, and that was all the convincing I needed to ditch. That's where the ball always is--­on the same side of campus as the stone bridge. It's this event hall they have, a stand-­alone building with pillars and a peaked roof. It's not gaudy or anything, just brick with an impressive number of steps out front. But I want to know more than anything what it's like on the inside. What it looks like. What it smells like.
Aaron is waiting where he said he'd be, on the bench next to the campus's main entrance. He smiles, that smirk that always gets me to smirk back. He seems normal, at least. A relief, since that text didn't."Yo, KD," he says, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. It's the very specific way that he says it: KD. My initials--­Kady Dixon--­which also happen to be my name. Aaron's brain blew up the first time he realized. "Still stalking the grounds, I see."
I walk his way, down the path that's flanked with two giant stone lions. Iverson's mascot, with eyes that seem to follow you as you pass. "Shut up. You literally begged me to come here."
"I mean, begged is a little strong . . ."
"Pleaded . . ."
"Asked?" He twists his mouth, gray eyes twinkling. "Pretty sure I just . . . asked. But I know how much you love to listen to those voices in your head." He squeezes me around my shoulders and lets me go.
"How was battle today?" I ask, hugging myself against a breeze that sends leaves scattering across our feet. I've called a school day at Iverson a "battle" for years. It's the intense uniforms: perfectly ironed khakis, polished dark brown shoes, a white button-­down, and a blue-­and-­gray argyle sweater vest. Even when it's a hundred degrees outside. And if you're IV, on top of all that, there's the navy blazer with a patch on the chest--­this family-­crest-­looking thing, like it came straight out of medieval England.
They remind me of soldiers, not because you'd fight a war looking like that, but because it's intimidating as hell.
I only say "battle" to Aaron, though. The other Boys won't think it's funny.
Aaron yawns as he sets down his backpack and shrugs off his blazer. He hands it to me instinctively, now that I've shivered. "Battle was long today," he tells me. "I need a fresh canteen. New socks."
I accept the blazer because I know he won't let me fight it. "Is that why you openly wept until I agreed to come see you?"
He laughs, swings his backpack back over his shoulder. "Yep. Exactly."
I slip my arms into the sleeves. "So, what happened?"
Aaron's smile fades as he slides his hands into his pockets. He glances around his campus, at everything and nothing at the same time. The full moon tints his skin--­a little bluer now than brown. Mine, too.
He keeps a clean fade on the sides and around back, with a mini Afro on top. His ears are pierced, but he can't wear his studs while he's at school--­dress code. So he stands here now, like himself but a different version. With no studs and no smile and skin that looks just a little bit bruised."There's a rumor going around here," he says, nodding at the Iverson buildings. "About us. That we kissed."
"I'm sorry, what?" My laugh bounces across campus. "That's ridiculous."
"Yeah." Aaron nods. But he doesn't say he's kidding. He only says, "I know."
His gaze holds mine, this thing he does sometimes. Not just with me, with everyone. Where he looks so closely that you wonder what he sees.I squint. "Well, who's saying it?"
"Everyone." He takes a tired breath. "All the guys. Look, I told them it's bullshit. Hopefully it's squashed . . . I just wanted you to know. You know? Hear it from me, since stuff travels so fast around here."
"But they should know it's not true. They know I'd never do that to Nik--­they know we'd never do that to Nik."
I want him to agree, to assure me that most of the Boys reacted like I just did. That they know me by now. Trust me. Are happy about me dating Nik. I want him to clarify that he's only telling me this because it was annoying, not because it's some kind of problem.
But he just slides his tongue across his front teeth and answers, "Yep."
I wrap myself tighter in his blazer. "And even though they know that, they're saying it anyway?"
He nods again. "Yep."
I roll my eyes. My braids are buried inside the back of his jacket. I reach my hand behind me and scoop them out. "You did have a long battle today."
Finally, he smiles again and slowly starts to walk. "I'll be alright. Come on, let's get out of here."
I fall into step next to him, down the path back to the road that will take us home. Leaving behind the main buildings that look like castles. Leaving behind the lawn that's so perfect, it could be Astroturf. Leaving behind the fountain with the naked stone boy peeing.And the lions' eyes . . . I can feel them, watching us as we go.

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Excerpted from Streetlight People by Charlene Thomas
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.