CHAPTER 16
Devon
After camp that afternoon, Devon walked the long corridor from the classrooms toward the front office.
His blue backpack was heavier now, with his books from the program wedged next to six cans of something Miz Johnna from the cafeteria had tucked in, after Devon had helped her stock the shelves in the lunchroom.
He’d gotten to go inside the kitchen doors all the way to the back room to do the work, sent by Miss Becca’s Granny because Miz Johnna was getting up there in age and didn’t need to be lifting in her condition.
While they’d worked, Miz Johnna had kept up a steady stream of chatter about her grandkids and the collards and oven-baked mac-and-cheese she’d be fixing that weekend when they came to visit.
Had talked so long about it that by the time they were done his tummy was growling and he was starting to get hunger pains for real when he remembered that afternoon, and the burger and shake Miss Becca would be buying him.
All for sharing his story.
He’d write the story himself for the burger and shake, but she didn’t need to know that, and besides, she was nice.
He liked being with her. When he talked about the kids at camp and his Mama and the stuff at church, she listened to him with her whole self, like he mattered.
Like Rev and Marla listened. And once a week? That was almost too good to believe in.
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.”
Shenise elbowed her. “You get to change your name, dodo.” She eyed Devon, bit her lip.
“I might be interested. It’s a good way to get other people in this stupid town to open their eyes and see how the rest of us live.
You should, too, Gab. You’re always sayin’ how people don’t know what it’s like, how they think your whole family’s from Mexico or something and works the farm. ”
Mariana nodded fast, piped up, “Yeah, sis, Shenise’s right. You got a chip on your shoulder about that.”
Gabby rolled her eyes, but she shouldered her purple backpack and gave him a grin.
“Just playin’, Dev. I might.”
She pushed open the school doors and stepped out into the summer afternoon.
The hot air hit him like a shove after the air-conditioning, but Shenise, Gabby, and Mariana didn’t seem to feel it, just slid by, headed down the block past Marquis and his friends, past Miss Becca and the bike rack, where his new-old black bike from Rev stood with its shiny lock.
Marquis called something after them. Devon couldn’t hear what, but Gabby turned and flipped him a crude gesture, and Shenise laughed.
“See you got your little sister,” one of the older guys called. “Couple more years and she’ll be ready for me.”
Devon could see Miss Becca’s head swivel from where she sat in the car, take in the scene. He quickened his pace, heart bouncing like the tallest kid’s basketball. The last thing he needed was for her to get creeped out by Marquis’s gang, never want to come back again.
“Shut up, Choo.” Shenise said over her shoulder, a warning hand on Gabby’s arm.
Gabby had stopped and turned full round, her eyes narrowed. Devon saw her hands were tight balls.
“Couple more years and you’ll be in the slammer.”
“Oooooh, she burned you,” one of the guys said.
“Watch it, Shenise.”
“Or what, you gonna do something about it?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep talking.”
The girls moved off, down the street to where he knew Shenise lived, and the boys stayed behind, Marquis bouncing his basketball. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Devon knew Marquis was watching him now, watching him walk to the little gray car. Probably watching Miss Becca.
If he didn’t hurry, they’d probably say something to Miss Becca, and then she’d really never come back, never want to take him to Harold’s for burgers and shakes.
Devon tapped on the car window. Miss Becca started, but she flashed a smile, clicked the locks unlocked.
“Hey, Devon!” She grinned as he slung his backpack onto the floorboard and climbed in. “How was your day?”
He waited till the door was shut to answer.
“Pretty good. How ’bout you?” He could feel Marquis’s eyes on him, felt all the guys’ eyes on him, as they drove away. He wished he could pile his bike into the backseat, too. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, gave it to God. Can you keep my bike safe? Please?
Then he opened his eyes, smiled at Miss Becca. “Did you write a lot of news stories?”
“Not so much, today, I’m afraid.” She made a face but looked happy as she pressed the gas and turned the wheel, pulled out to head down Oak Street toward the diner. “It was one of those number-crunching days, plus a bunch of meetings.”
She paused at the stop sign, turned to face him. Her eyebrow was creased in the middle, and she looked worried.
“Devon, do you know those guys?”