She looked like she wanted to say more, but he rubbed his belly. “I can’t wait for one of those Harold shakes. They’re the best! So what’s a number-cruncher day?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it and smiled, stepped on the gas. They turned onto Aberville Road, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“I’m trying to raise more money for the newspaper, but it’s not always easy.”
He’d never considered that before. The newspaper was a business just like Mr. Allen’s store, and Mr. Allen was always complaining about customers and sales. He thought a moment.
“You could do a sale. You know, give stuff away when people buystuff, and then they come back for more?”
She glanced at him. “We don’t have anything to give, really.”
“Give a newspaper. You know, get a subscription or something if you buy an ad.”
Her lips twisted. “That’s not a bad idea.” She tossed him a look. “You’re a smart kid, Devon.”
The way she said it sounded like she meant it, like she wasn’t trying to baby him, and he was still smiling a few minutes later as they pulled up to Harold’s and took their seats at the diner booth.
After they ordered, she leaned in. “So who do you think I should interview next? Got any ideas?”
Devon dug in his pack, pulled out a square of notebook paper. He unfolded it and spread it out on the table.
“These two here said they’d definitely talk to you. Cheyenne wants to ask at home first, but Diego said his mom wouldn’t mind and you can call him tonight and set something up.”
Miss Becca leaned back. “You got me names already? How in the world—”
He shrugged. “We had circle time after lunch and I showed them the paper, and some of the kids said the story was cool. So I asked them at recess.”
“Nice! I’ll give Diego a call tonight, and then when I go to the school to talk to him, I can chat with Cheyenne, see what she thinks.” She started writing on the paper, making notes, and he grabbed one of the Saltines from the little white box on the table. “What kind of gift card should I get for him, McDonald’s or something?”
“Nah, that’s too far for some of them. A lot of the kids go get candy and sodas and stuff from Mr. Allen’s shop. I help out there, and I’ve seen Diego come in a few times. I bet Mr. Allen would do a gift card. Want me to ask?”
“That’s a great idea. Thanks!”
His burger and shake came—Miss Becca just got fries—and she told him stories while they ate, about where she used to live, all the way in New York City, and the paper she used to run. He told her about the safe stuff, like Mr. Allen’s shop, and Rev, and the camp.
The door tinkled, and he looked over to see a man and a boy about his age come in. The boy had more freckles than anyone he’d ever seen. They walked past him to a booth, but when they passed, the man stopped short and was smiling down at Miss Becca. It was a big smile, the kind that showed all his teeth.
“Well, hey there, Becks. How’ve you been?” The man turned to the boy. “Son, you remember Miss Rebecca, from the river?”
The kid waved at her, cast a curious look at Devon. “Hi again! Catch any fish lately?”
“Would you believe I haven’t been back to that river since the day I saw you?” Miss Becca motioned to Devon. “This is my friend, Devon Robinson. Devon, meet JJ and, well, JJ.” She laughed and looked up at the man. “I guess I’d better start calling you ‘Josh’ now, huh.”
“Nice to meet you.” Devon shook their hands, and then the man, Josh, started talking to Miss Becca about fish and stuff, and Miss Becca looked really happy. Devon tried to study the kid without him noticing. The kid had on good shorts, the kind that looked like they came from a real department store, and one of those soft mini backpacks with the cords that sucked in the top tight, and shoes with fresh white laces. The ends weren’t torn up, either. Not a single bit.
“How old are you?” he blurted to the kid.
“Ten today. It’s my birthday.” The kid smiled at him. He looked nice. “How old are you?”
“Happy birthday! I’m eleven.”
“Cool. You like to fish?”
Devon shrugged. “Never been.”
“You’ve never been fishing?”
Devon felt embarrassed then, but the kid must’ve noticed, because he shrugged, too.
