I can’t believe Jamia just kicked him out. I thought they were close.

She turns to me after slamming the door and her anger drains away into apologies. “Frank, I’m so sorry, I had no idea—”

“Why did you do that?” I interrupt her, gesturing towards the door.

“Frank, I thought he was just mean like he was to me, or anyone else—”

“Jamia, why did you tell him to leave?” I rephrase, because she isn’t understanding my meaning.

She furrows her eyebrows, looking puzzled. “He wasn’t who I thought he was,” she says uncertainly.

I huff in frustration. “He didn’t break your arm!” I shout, and I don’t know why I’m shouting but I feel angry.

After a stunned silence, Jamia’s face softens in what seems to be understanding. She approaches the bed swiftly, sitting and taking my hands in her own. “He never treated me that badly,” she says gently. “I’m not mad at him for being mean to me. I’m mad because he hurt my friend, and no one hurts the people I care about.” She tilts her head to the side. “You’re my friend, Frank.”

My anger fizzles away as this sinks in, and I try not to let anything show in my eyes, because for some reason her admission embarrasses me. “I thought you and he were friends,” I mutter, looking down at our hands.

Jamia smiles and it pulls my eyes back to her face. “We are,” she says simply. “But not until he makes it up to you.”

I smile back finally, eyes getting watery just from gratefulness. “Thanks, Jamia,” I tell her earnestly, still clasping her hands in my own. I let go before I can think about how she’s the only person who has ever stood up for me before, and try to change the subject. “What did he do to you anyway?”

“He made fun of my art and the fact that my mom works three jobs to keep us off the streets,” Jamia says casually, picking at her nails.

My eyes go wide as I take this in. “God, Jamia, I’m sorry,” I say, at a loss.

“It’s fine,” she says lightly, and steers the conversation away from herself. “I just thought he did that to everyone. Like, I’ve never seen him do more than mock people—he never actually hurts anyone. That’s why I was so surprised to hear what he did to you. He didn’t treat anyone else like that.”

I raise my eyebrows at her doubtfully. “Are you saying I’m special?”

Jamia gives me a stern look. “I’m saying—look, Frank. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed this, but Gerard pays a lot of attention to you. Always has.”

“Yeah,” I snap, “I was a great target at school.”

“Yeah,” Jamia retaliates, “and now he buys you food, and visits you every day, and won’t stop talking about you—”

“He talks about me?” I repeat disbelievingly.

Jamia smirks as she stands. “Get some rest, kid. You need to figure this one out on your own.”

Notes

I'm sorry this is so short, hopefully the next chapter will be longer!