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Just as Malik predicted, his grandmother and two siblings returned to their apartment later that evening following a trip to their local grocery store. They hurried inside with their arms weighed down by plastic bags. Henri and Thea immediately went to Malik's grandmother's aid. Instead of being met with gratitude, the woman regarded them with caution. As they took the grocery bags from her, she cocked her head at her eldest grandson.

"Who're you?" A little boy of about six or seven had stopped himself in front of Thea. Tiny twists of dark brown hair poked out from the bottom of the beanie atop his head.

"That's a great question, Keon," Malik's grandmother said. She squinted at the Beck siblings. "Who are these people in my house, Malik?"

"Friends of mine," he explained while taking the last bag from her. Flashing her a nervous smile, he hurried into the kitchen. "They're gonna be staying with us for the night. If that's alright."

"Staying...with us." She said the words as if he'd just told her aliens existed. "Let me get this straight. You disappear for a night and show up with some random white girl and—" She squinted at Henri. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

He extended a hand toward her. "Henri Beck, ma'am." As she warily shook it, he gestured at his sister. "That's Thea, my sister."

"Sister?" Amaya, Malik's thirteen-year-old girl sister, questioned. "Are you sure?"

"I'm adopted." Thea moved into the kitchen to help Malik put away the groceries. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Jackson."

Malik's grandmother rolled her eyes. "Call me Grams." She side-eyed her grandson. "I'm assuming you found them wherever you've been for the last twenty-four hours. Real nice of you to call, by the way. Definitely wasn't worried sick about you. I almost filed a missing person's report, you know."

Amaya shot him a disapproving look. "You know you can't get in trouble again, Mal."

Again?

More bits and pieces of the boy's secret were revealing themselves. The interaction back at the college, the comment from the receptionist at the J. Edgar Hoover Building... A few more tugs at the frayed threads keeping Malik's mystery under wraps would see the entire thing unravel. He tilted his head at the boy and studied him intently.

Malik hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Grams. I meant to call. Seriously, I did. It's just...it's been a crazy day. Super hectic."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I meant to call. Seriously, I did. I was just... It's been a crazy day."

Henri stifled a scoff. Crazy was the understatement of the century. Hectic didn't even begin to cover every that'd happened since the attack on the Smithsonian.

Grams nodded slowly before closing the apartment door. "Well, you can tell me all about it during dinner." She took off her coat, hung it on a nearby hook, and waltzed into the kitchen as if it were her throne room. She reached into one of the overstuffed bags and pulled out a case of ground turkey meat and a bag of corn tortillas. "I hope you kids are hungry."

###

Thea insisted on helping Grams prepare tonight's meal of hard-shell tacos and Spanish rice despite the woman's pleas. Henri suspected she didn't trust the girl's abilities in the kitchen based off her appearance, which might've been valid had she not been raised by one of the best cooks Henri had ever seen.

Aminata Beck might not have been a professional chef, but she could've bested a few Michelin-star chefs if she put her mind to it. Thea absorbed all the woman's teachings like a sponge while Henri failed to make rice without burning it. His father was also useless in the kitchen. It was one of the few traits they shared.

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