CHAPTER ONE

      MATT RODRIGUEZ DIDN’T bother reading the article. The headline wasn’t auspicious—No Home for Group Home. Another neighborhood protest that was certain to sabotage another project that was meant to help the community. There’d been a time when he’d thought those two words—neighborhood and community—were synonymous, but his experiences over the past few years had shown that it wasn’t true in the real world. He sighed and closed the laptop. Bad timing for his funding proposal to the city of Chicago for the drop-in center and the camp.

      He stroked the top of his head, rubbing against the bristles of new hair growth. Two weeks ago, he’d decided to aim for a more conservative look. He thought it would help bolster his image as a solid representative of the community instead of an activist who might—heaven forbid!—shake the pillars of the very community he hoped to improve. For all, not just some. Whatever It Took was his motto. The new look was simply another incarnation in a series for Mateo “Matt” Rodriguez.

      There was a sharp tap on his office door before it swung open. “Hey, Matt? Got a sec?” Sandro Garcia, Matt’s childhood buddy, stood in the doorway.

      “Sure. What’s up?”

      “Maria finished the city funding proposal and submitted it online but when she tried to print it...”

      Matt groaned. “Not again.” They’d been tolerating their malfunctioning printer for weeks now, putting off the decision to replace it. Not that printers were pricey, but the budget was tight. “Okay, have her get a new one out of petty cash.”

      “Here or in the city?”

      “Whatever’s convenient for her. I’m sure there’s a discount warehouse kind of place here.”

      “In Willow Springs?”

      Matt heard the scoff in Sandro’s voice. “Just take care of it, okay?”

      The door closed quietly behind Sandro and Matt took a deep breath. Alienating his small crew, especially his best friend, wasn’t going to solve his money problems. And it sure as heck wasn’t going to improve his personal problems either. He glanced down at his cell phone. His mother had promised to let him know as soon as she and Rosie, Matt’s sister, left the hospital. The appointment was more than an hour ago so they should be finished by now. He wished that he’d been more insistent on going with them.

      “No, Mati,” his mother, Esperanza, had said, patting his forearm. “Rosie and I can manage just fine. We’re taking a cab.”

      She was too proud. Matt could relate—pride had always been one of his greatest flaws. He’d choked on it far too many times in his life. At least, he had after that day. Before then, pride had been a badge of honor. It had governed much of his life, propelling him to words and actions he regretted years later. But after that day, his pride had been slowly whittled away. First, with the army in Iraq and then struggling through college for his youth worker diploma. The years working for various nonprofit community groups before establishing KidsFirst and lastly, Camp Hope, were even more humbling. All of which was a good thing. Too much pride was definitely counterproductive. His post-teenage incarnation had taught him that and he’d devoted many hours since his teens—and that day—ridding his mind of it.

      But he wished now he’d gone with his family. Esperanza was getting the diagnosis from the gamut of tests she’d endured and Rosie was there to provide support, though Matt knew their roles would be reversed. Navigating with canes, as Rosie was doing at the moment because she was out of remission, was challenging. It would be his mother helping Matt’s younger sister.

      The cell phone screen lit up. Matt grabbed it, reading the first few lines of the banner. All finished now. Tired and on our way home. Not to worry.

      He tapped in his mother’s number,