“Hey, hey, hey,” came the melodious voice, and he looked up to see Rev walking toward him, a grin on his face and his hand out for a shake. Rev’s shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his dark skin made the light yellow fabric stand out. Rev mopped at his brow with a handkerchief.
“How’s it going, Devon?” Rev asked, and Devon shook his hand, thumbed toward his backpack.
“Got the papers right here.”
“Awesome, my friend. Most awesome.” Rev gestured to the little brick church, and its open door. “Come on in and cool off. We’ll have some sodas and go over it.”
Devon took a seat at the table in Rev’s office, pulled out the blue two-pocket folder with three full pages of signatures front-and-back. The bottle caps made a long hiss as Rev twisted them off and tossed them in the trashcan. The room was cool and dim; Rev didn’t like to work in harsh light, said the fluorescents gave him a headache. Instead he kept the window curtains open wide,letting in natural light. Long rays of afternoon sun beamed across the room and onto the table where they sat.
“Three hundred signatures, Rev. I counted them twice.” Devon slid the papers over. “All parents and guardians.”
Rev reviewed the names, nodded here and there.
“Suzanne Lawson signed?” His mouth opened a little when he got to the name.
“Yessir. Said she had a change of heart, didn’t want to stand in the way of progress. Especially if it was going to be free.”
Rev threw back his head and laughed, a long, loud laugh that Devon himself couldn’t help but join.
Devon had worked for two weeks to get those signatures, and tonight Rev and Marla and some of the other church folk were going to link up and take the idea, his idea, to the town council. The West Dahlia Leaders Summer Enrichment Camp. Though it’d probably always be Fun School in his mind.
No one knew but Devon that it was CJ who’d really started it. Even CJ didn’t know it. CJ, who’d been bullied and picked on since kindergarten, who wouldn’t even leave the house now except for school. Last summer, CJ’d spent the whole nine-week break indoors, terrified of Marquis and Johnny Vasquez and Big Ty, Marquis’s older brother. Johnny had thought it would be fun to name a target for the summer. Every time CJ set foot out of the house, they were waiting. Sometimes they threw stuff at him. Soggy, rotten trash from the dumpster. The last time it had been a dirty diaper. CJ didn’t even go to the free lunch up at the community center.
Devon had tried to talk to Marquis about it but Marquis had just laughed at him.
“Wanna be next, Dev?” he’d asked, bouncing the basketball over and over. Thwop. Thwop. Thwop. Brows raised, more of a challenge than a question. “We’re always looking for volunteers. Volunteers for something else, too. But there’s time on that.”
Devon knew what that meant. Drugs. Marquis’s older brother already had him dealing on the side. But that was one path Devon planned to steer far, far clear of. He was nothing like Uncle T. Nothing. Never would be. Not ever.
When school started back in August, CJ had lost so much weight his pants were hanging off him. Devon asked around, found out a lot of other kids had had a rough summer, too. There was nothing to do but get together in the big field and play soccer and basketball and stuff, or hang out on the corner, but the fighting and bullying was a problem. Del Dominguez got busted for stealing candy at the dollar store. One of the girls from a lower grade got her hoop earrings ripped out after she called another girl a freak for insulting her sister. Devon stayed busy helping Memaw, and Mr. Allen at the store, but most of the other kids didn’t have anything.
And then Ms. Haywood their teacher started in on dipping test scores and summer slump and that’s when the idea had hit him—a summer church camp, but with a school side, too. Teachers could help, and he knew the church folk always liked to pitch in. Rev said so all the time. Parents wouldn’t say no if it was free, and the kids would have someplace safe to go each day. James Watkins was one of the poorest schools in the region, an inner city school—the teachers were always talking about it. Said it was part of the Corridor of Shame or something.
Rev and Marla thought the camp was brilliant. They’d gotten all of Dahlia Community Bible Church on board and even brought it to their big Dahlia churches group for help.
Rev thought if they could get the town council on board tonight, especially with all the church support and all the signatures Devon had collected, they could maybe get the program rolling as soon as school let out. Devon even had the kids write personal notes about why they wanted the program. Marla’d already drafted a curriculum and lined up the teachers. All they needed now wasthe final go-ahead for the meal funding and the okay to use the school.
“You can still come tonight? To the town meeting?” Rev asked. “Marla and I can pick you up, do some dinner first. We can go to Sally’s. It’s all-you-can-eat fried chicken night.”
“Sure.” Devon didn’t want to seem too eager, but he was already salivating over it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fried chicken. Yes, he could—four weeks ago, at the church Homecoming. Fried chicken, and corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes with a little cheddar cheese mixed in, and collards and lima beans and Miss Nessie’s bacon green bean casserole with the little crunchy onion things on top. Memaw had even managed to make a chocolate cake, though at the last minute her hip hurt too much and she had to stay home in the bed while Devon walked it up the six blocks to the church.
Rev hugged him when he left. “Pick you up at five thirty sharp.”
As Devon darted down the steps, he could see a few of the guys from Marquis’s gang sitting on the stoop across from the gas station. One of the guys looked straight at him, and Devon’s heart did a slow somersault until he felt Rev’s hand on his shoulder.
Rev cocked his head, stared hard at the boys till they looked away and started flipping a half-empty bottle of Mountain Dew instead. Devon could hear their laughter. Hard. Like they’d laughed at CJ.
“See you, Rev.” Devon gave a little wave.
And he ran home as fast as he could to help Memaw and do his homework and chores, feeling Rev’s watchful eyes on his back, hoping against hope that tonight was a night Uncle T would stay far, far, far away.
CHAPTER 5
Rebecca
Rebecca sat at her desk at theDahlia Weekly, reviewing news copy and fanning herself with last week’s paper. It had been three weeks since she’d moved here, three weeks of sweltering heat and frizzy hair and shirts that always felt damp against her lower back. Millie, the office manager, had the air-conditioning on full blast and the fans going, and Rebecca still felt like she needed an ice bath.
Three weeks of pretending she was getting into her groove, like she didn’t take mini-breaks in the bathroom pressing her head into her hands and wondering why-why-why-in-the-world she’d ever agreed to uproot her life and move to this—this town named after a flower, where everyone sounded like an extra inGone With the Windand bandied about “bless your hearts” and “how’s your mama ’n’ thems” every other minute. Not to mention running a barely-hanging-on-newspaper.
