***

We walked down the quarter's sidewalks, as silent as ever. Normal. What could we possibly talk about?

"Um so, where are you from, Harlem?" Megan broke the awkward silence.

"Brownsville."

"Oh okay. I'm from Oakland, California."

"Nice."

We continued to stroll until she spoke again.

"I know you think all the girls back at the house hate you. But that's not true. I don't hate you."

I looked at her, impassively.

"I'm serious. Instead, I wanna know you. I wanna learn how to be tough."

I found myself chuckling.

"Whut?"

She smiled a little.

"I know it's odd to say but I mean it."

"What makes you think you...