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workshop. My
father is standing next to his prized possession, besides my mother
of course: his restored black Mustang. He bought it the year I was
born, and reworked the engine, fixed up the body. It’s a beautiful
car.
    “Your mother wants us to come home for
lunch. I thought you could drive,” he says, tossing me the
keys.
    “Okay,” I say slowly. “But you never let me
drive the Mustang.”
    “Get used to it kid,” he says with a
smile.
    “No shit!” I exclaim. “You’re giving me your
car?”
    “No,” he says quickly. “I’m loaning it to
you. We’re so proud of you, Jackson. It’s still mine until you
follow through with this college thing.” My father has always been
a man of few words and little emotional display. He blinks
furiously, as though he may just cry at the fact that I finally
decided to man up.
    I walk over and give him a strong hug. “Why
are we going home for lunch?” I ask.
    My father shrugs his shoulders. “I just do
what I’m told.”
    As my parents and I sit on
the front porch eating fajitas, I think about where I’ve been, and
where I am now. It’s a cliché, I know. The boy from the bad
neighborhood that finally makes it out. And he makes it out of here
alive, without a prison record. For once, I truly have no problem
with being that cliché. I have my doubts about ever getting into an
Ivy League University; I’m not that lucky. But I’m okay with
that. Wherever I go, it will be
progress .

Epilogue

    Another year later…
    I try her number once more. Jade is still
terrible at answering her phone; some things never change. This
time though, she does actually answer.
    “Hello,” she whispers, obviously
irritated.
    “Guess who?” I say with a smile.
    “Oh my gosh, hi!” she yells. I hear a
muffling sound over the mouthpiece, along with Jade apologizing
profusely to someone.
    I wait for a few seconds, hearing more
shuffling and a few more small apologies on her end.
    “Hello?” I ask questioningly.
    “I’m here. Sorry, I was in a lecture,” Jade
replies.
    “Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” I
say. I’m not really sorry. I’ve missed her voice. But why the hell is she answering her phone in the
middle of class? “Just checking in to see
how you’re doing.”
    “I’m great. I miss you though,” she says
sadly.
    “Maybe I’ll pop by and see you sometime
soon,” I say.
    “I’d love that, but hey, can I call you back
a little later? I have to get back to this lecture,” Jade asks.
    “Sure,” I say, before ending the call.
    I stand and stare up at the
red brick building looming before me. How
soon is soon, Jade? I had no idea that when
Jade sat me down and made me fill out those hundreds of college
applications that something would actually come of it. A few
somethings, actually. Not that the choice was hugely difficult,
when one of the acceptance letters was from Brown, and they even
offered me a scholarship. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I
pulled the Mustang into the parking lot, very concerned for my baby
after the fifteen-hour drive from Georgia.
    Jade is going to freak the hell out!
    I walk up the stairs and
ask the depressed-looking RA where her room is. Surprisingly, she
immediately offers up the room number. So much for student privacy.
I expect the door to be locked, since she is in class. But when I
try the knob, it turns easily in my hand. This shit would never happen in my neighborhood.
    I step inside and can immediately tell which
side of the room belongs to Jade. The bed is made without a single,
solitary crease in sight. The pencil tin on the bedside table is
filled with sharpened pencils, not a nib out of place. I hope that
Jade doesn’t have classes all day. Waiting in this room alone for
the next six hours could get really boring, really fucking
fast.
    I take out my phone and open it to the
camera’s images. The little girl’s smiling face greets me. Jade may
not be as excited when I tell her about Shana. It has been
horrible, keeping