When he said bye to Miz Johnna, she’d bent down real quick-like beneath the counter and pulled out a thin plastic bag. He could see through, see a few ravioli pop-tops inside.
“Extras,” she said to his questioning look as she turned him around, unzipped his backpack while it was still on him, and stuffed the bag in. She zipped him back up again and motioned to the shelves. “Can’t fit ’em on the shelf, and I sure rather you take ’em home than I send all them cans back to the state.”
“Thanks, Miz Johnna.”
“It’s my pleasure, Devon.” Her brown eyes were big and a little watery in her face, and she blinked real fast. “You’re a good helper. God’s got big plans for you.”
He smiled a little at that, because that’s what Rev always said. He told her as much.
“I hope you’re listenin’, young man, ’cause that preacher of yours is right.”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe it.”
He felt a little guilty taking the extras, though, and as he walked down the corridor to the front, wondered if he shouldn’t give them to someone else.
T was there every day and night now, and Missy and whoever else, too. His posse, T liked to say, and T liked to eat. Steaks and greasy sausages fried up sometimes late, late at night. Devon smelled them when he woke in the night to use the bathroom. Last night the party was still going strong when he’d gotten up at one o’clock in the morning and heard them in the kitchen, clinking glasses and cooking something that smelled so good he almost wanted to wander out, see if they’d share.
But he knew better. So he’d just finished in the bathroom and darted back to Memaw’s room before they could see him, back to his nest of blankets by her closet. He’d taken to bunking in her room now. Ray used his room too much. He liked it in with Memaw, anyway. It was the coolest room in the house, and no one came in after six o’clock.
But in the mornings when everyone was passed out, he tiptoed to the kitchen on his way to camp and usually struck gold. This morning there’d been two burgers wrapped in foil, and he’d eaten them cold as he pedaled to school.
Still, the extras from Miz Johnna meant he wouldn’t have to scrounge for supper from the pantry or fridge and deal with Uncle T’s friends.
Memaw wasn’t talking much, and Devon still didn’t know why or what to do. But she sat up a little, and ate what he gave her, and nodded some when he read to her from Mama’s Bible. His Bible. Mostly she just slept. This morning she stirred as he was leaving for camp.
“Sweeeet boyyy.” The words were little more than a whisper, and still sounded weird, like she was talking underwater or something, but he’d kissed her forehead and promised to be back that afternoon.
“Aaff-noooon.” Memaw had nodded and slid back down on the bed, turned her face to the window, where a slim shaft of morning light was beginning to touch her pillow.
He wasn’t stupid, knew what was going on, knew she’d had a stroke or something. But he didn’t know what to do for her without drawing attention to their situation, making things worse. She wasn’t going downhill, at least. There was that.
He gritted his teeth at the helplessness, realized as he walked the school hallway that his fists were clenched, too. Slowly, slowly, he released, then exhaled.
He reached the door to the school and was just starting to open it when he heard giggles and a “See ya, Dev” from behind. He turned to see Shenise, her friend Gabby, and a little Gabby lookalike coming from the front office. Gabby still had the braids and the crossbones pin, and she smiled at him too, ruffled the head of the kid beside her.
“This’s my mini-me.” Gabby gave a lopsided grin, tugged at the girl’s ponytail. “Mariana, this guy, Devon, started the camp here.”
Mariana looked impressed. “It’s an awesome camp. I like that book we’re reading, the one about the kid from Haiti? Beats hanging out at home all summer.” She made a face.
“Got that right.” Shenise looked at Devon. “How’s your Memaw?”
“Oh, fine.”
Shenise raised a brow. “Fine? Haven’t seen her at church in, like, a million trillion years. Some’a the guys been saying she’s dead, but nah, I woulda heard. She’s a nice lady, your Memaw.”
She waited for the explanation, but Devon shrugged. The less she knew, the better.
“Her hip makes it hard to get around, but she’s good. We do home church.”
The corner of Shenise’s mouth quirked. “Aunt Lou calls it that. Home church. I see your Uncle T’s been staying up there a lot.”
That he definitely didn’t want to talk about. He waved a hand like it meant nothing.
They reached the doors, and Devon looked out, saw Miss Becca’s gray car at the curb. His stomach dropped as he also saw Marquis and Johnny Vasquez and a couple of older guys, maybe high schoolers, bouncing the ball by the bike rack. He stopped short, still inside, and turned to the girls.
“Hey, ever feel like sharing your story for that series? Being in the paper?”
Gabby hooted, slapped her knee. “Like that newspaper you passed around in circle time today? Capital N no. My parents would freakin’ kill me if I aired our dirty laundry like that.”
