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Hollis cocked his hip and leaned against Yulia’s stairwell. She kicked open the door and turned back inside.

“Get the stew off the fire,” she shouted. “Annie’s here early, we’re almost done with dinner. Come fry plantain.” She took Hollis’s bag off his shoulder and dropped it in the living room by the couch.

Annie was poking at the stew with a fork and looking dubious. She wasn’t a good cook. Her parents handled most of that at her house.

“Scrape the bottom, but be careful if it’s nonstick,” Walt told her. Hollis grabbed the bag of fufu and started handling that, making sure to whip it hard, the way Mr. Egunyemi showed him.

Yulia slid in next to him and dunked a chicken in a boiled pot of water, then rapidly began plucking the feathers off.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen something like that.

We don’t usually have chicken and fish in the same dish.

“Need any help?” Hollis wondered.

Yulia shrugged one shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. This isn’t for tonight’s dinner.”

Please marry her, Hollis.

Literally everyone in town can do that. It’s not special.

Hollis scowled. And for the last time, Yulia doesn’t like guys.

Whatever. Where is Yulia’s cooking oil?

Hollis opened the cabinet above the stove and took out the canola.

“This the pan we using?” Walt asked, and Yulia nodded.

I’ve never had Nigerian food, is it spicy?

It can be, Yulia’s is all right though.

Hollis realized how quiet it was in the kitchen.

“So, James invited me to see him do MMA. He’s really focused on trying to get me involved in something positive.”

“I think it’s wild that you’re hanging out with him at all,” Annie said.

Hollis shrugged. “It’s not really hanging out. Tim sits next to me in history and he’s kind of being a go-between. It’s not like we talk a bunch or anything. It’s just weird to me that they seem to care so much. They wouldn’t let me turn the invitation down.”

Yulia hazarded a glance away from the chicken to check on the plantain.

“You’re better at this than usual, Hollis. You practicing at home?”

Hollis shrugged. “When you leave, who else is gonna make this for me?”

Yulia laughed and picked up the chicken to take it somewhere deep into the house. “If you visit, I will. But I’ll figure out how to write all this down in a recipe. Measurements will vary.”

“Why does James care?” Annie brought them back to the topic when the table was set and Walt was staring dubiously at the red stew sauce.

“He... thinks I bait people into beating me up as a form of self-harm and is really freaked out by it. I got lucky with Jorge, but he actually thinks I’m a good fighter and just letting people lay me out.”

Yulia glanced at Annie. “He’s not wrong though, if we’re being honest. Not the fighting part obviously... but...”

Hollis put down his fork.

“It’s not. It’s more like the price of getting to say what I want has been people reacting however they see fit. I’m not cashing checks my ass can’t pay for if my ass knows the bill is coming.”

Annie snorted.

Yulia sucked her teeth. “Still fucked, babes.”

“Well, we’re not doing that anymore, so it shouldn’t be an issue,” Walt said. He speared a piece of plantain and ate it.

Annie made a face but stopped bothering them about it.