Despite bouts of homelessness and unwanted attention from the juvenile justice system, Darion stayed in high school. In spite of 47 absences and 88 tardy arrivals, he managed to graduate. “I stayed in school,” he says. “My plan was not to be a dropout.”

He has reason to be proud. Youth are 87 percent more likely to drop out of school if they’re homeless, according to Maura McInerney of the local organization Education Law Center. Of those who stay enrolled, most bounce between schools, falling behind academically.

In Philadelphia, 1 out of every 20 high school students has experienced homelessness. McInerney has counseled homeless youth on the rights afforded to them under the 1987 McKinney Vento Act, which allows children to stay in the same school even if they leave the district due to homelessness. The federal legislation also protects the right of unaccompanied homeless youth to enroll themselves in school without parental permission. But a lot of kids don’t know their rights under the law, she says. A lot of schools don’t know either.

“Kids don’t have to provide documents; they can say they’re experiencing homelessness,” McInerney explains. By telling school authorities they are homeless, they have access to Title I funds that may, for instance, pay for uniforms or fees for tests like the SAT. “Housing is a critical problem for older youth,” McInerney adds. “They aren’t going to ask for help. You need to notice it yourself.”

Darion never said much; still doesn’t. At some point he decided it was best to keep his business to himself. He grew into an irreverent jokester, crafting a nonchalant persona to present to the world.

In March, he returned to Samuel Fels High School to visit his former counselor Ray Realdine. As Darion walked through the dim corridors, it was clear that even two years after graduation, he was still popular. Students and teachers gave him high-fives as he passed. When they asked him how he’d been, he repeated: “Good.”

Less than an hour earlier, Darion had been sitting in the school’s parking lot, tears sliding down his cheeks as he debated going in. It had been months since his last visit. Then, he had been doing well, proud to report to his former teachers that he had enrolled as a full-time student at the Pennsylvania College of Technology. It took him a while to screw up his courage and enter the big double doors in front.

In Realdine’s office, Darion sits up straighter than usual as they talk. When Realdine asks him how classes are going, Darion’s shoulders drop with a mixture of grief and shame. He tells the counselor he had to drop out of college because he couldn’t afford the tuition. A few uncomfortable questions later, the rest floods out: He doesn’t have any family support, and he’s homeless and currently staying at Covenant House. Realdine leans forward to maintain eye contact. “You gotta get back into school,” he says. “You’re too smart not to.”