Chapter 2
Ten years old
“Oh, Momma, don’t start,” my mother snaps, rolling her eyes.
“All I want is for my daughters to get along.” Grandma’s voice cracks, and tears shimmer in her eyes. “Is that too much to ask for? Growing up, you two were inseparable.”
I love when my grandma comes to visit. She bakes cookies with me, reads bedtime stories, and teaches me to knit with her warm hands wrapped around mine.
Momma never does any of that.
I just wish her and Momma would stop fighting. Grandma used to visit for a whole month, but now she only stays for two weeks.
I pick at my food, losing my appetite. Momma and Aunt Sheila have hated each other since before I was born. Grandma says it’s because Momma stole Daddy from her way back in high school. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s the story they all whisper when they think I’m not listening.
“Well, it’s not me that’s holding on to the past,” Momma huffs and slams her fork onto her plate. “Sheila needs to get over it. It’s been fourteen years for heaven’s sake, and it’s not my fault she can’t keep a man.”
Grandma inhales a sharp breath. “That’s unnecessary, Loretta.”
“See, you’re always on her side,” Momma snaps, her espresso-brown eyes narrowing to tiny slits.
Daddy clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “This conversation is not for young ears.”
My older brother, Nolan, doesn’t seem to be fazed by the confrontation unfolding. He’s too busy stuffing his mouth with pot roast.
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” Grandma sighs tiredly. “Please call your sister and have a heart-to-heart.”
“No, I will not,” Momma responds with finality. “She’s older and therefore should extend the olive branch.”
“For shame, Loretta.” Grandma shakes her head in disappointment.
“I will not be guilt-tripped into apologizing. Sheila’s just jealous of me.
” Momma fluffs her shiny, silken curls and proudly squares her shoulders.
“Look at me. Married to a doctor, living in a five-bedroom house with granite countertops and a big pool in the backyard. Meanwhile, Sheila’s still in the hood with a baby daddy doing forty to life. ”
Heavy rain, accompanied by thunder, causes the lights in the dining room to flicker.
“May I be excused?” I ask, desperate to escape the suffocating tension at the table.
“Sure, sweet—”
“You may not.” Momma cocks an eyebrow at Daddy, daring him to challenge her.
He averts his gaze and drinks a sip of his water.
“I spent hours preparing this lovely meal, and you’re not going anywhere until your plate is empty.
And stop slouching and get your elbows off the table. I am not raising a wild animal.”
Nolan snickers, but Momma’s glare instantly silences him. I shouldn’t have said anything.
Momma’s judgmental eyes land on me again. “Your hair was a complete mess this morning. How many times have I told you not to go to bed without your bonnet on? No man is ever going to marry you if you insist on behaving like a little savage. Perfection twenty-four-seven is absolutely mandatory.”
I shrink in on myself. Momma wears makeup, pretty dresses, and high heels all the time. Her hair is always done up nice too. Men stare at her wherever she goes.
“I’m sorry, Momma,” I say in a low voice, hanging my head low. “I promise I’ll be a better daughter.”
“I told you to stop slouching!” she admonishes. “Sometimes I’m convinced the wrong baby was given to me at the hospital.”
Her words land like a slap. I don’t say anything. I just keep staring at my plate and do what I’m told.
“Slow down, Winston.” I giggle, watching my hamster devour a strawberry. “You’re going to get a tummy ache.”
Daddy gave Winston to me for my tenth birthday.
I asked for a puppy, but Momma said no and refused to budge on her decision.
Daddy talked her into getting me a smaller pet.
And then came Winston. He’s the best birthday present ever.
I even took him to school for show-and-tell once. The entire class loved him.
“Okay, all gone.” I scoop him up from my lap and climb out of bed. “It’s time to go to sleep.”
I slip him inside his cage.
“Nighty night, Winston.” I scratch his head before securing the latch. “I’ll give you more strawberries in the morning.”
Movement near the swimming pool catches my eye, and I peer out the window. Through the downpour, I spot a boy scurrying up the stairs to the tree house Daddy had built for Nolan and me.
“What’s he doing?”
I can’t see his face clearly. Maybe he’s one of Nolan’s friends. They come over a lot, but never this late.
I leave my bedroom and tiptoe downstairs, curious to discover who the boy is.
I grab an umbrella, a flashlight, and my bright yellow rain boots from the closet by the front door, then hurry to the kitchen.
A creaking noise stops me in my tracks. I hold my breath until all is silent before disabling the alarm and sneaking onto the deck.
I quickly make my way to the tree house and cautiously push open the wooden door.
It’s pitch black inside. I close the umbrella and prop it against the wall.
“Hello?” I call out, clicking on the flashlight.
I find the boy huddled beside the bookshelf, his knees pulled tight to his chest. He’s got no shoes.
His jeans are dirty and have holes all over.
His hair is a big, tangled mess. There’s blood under his nose, and his lip is split.
Then I look into the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen—both dark purple and swollen, one almost closed shut.
“W-who a-are y-you?” I stutter, tightening my grip on the flashlight.
“My name is Samuel,” he answers, his voice tiny. “But everybody calls me Sam.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“I just… needed somewhere to hide.”
I warily approach him and sink to my knees in front of him. “From the person who hurt you?”
He nods. “Can I stay here for a while? I won’t be any trouble.”
His voice is barely there. Like if he speaks too loudly, I’ll hit him. “Okay, but you have to leave before morning. My momma will be real mad if she catches you here.”
He blows out a deep breath and slumps forward. “Thank you.”
I look at him for a moment longer. Sam definitely looks like he needs a friend. I can be that. For tonight at least. I point at the television. “You want to watch a movie?”
He shrugs, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
I bounce to my feet and select The Avengers before plopping down on the futon. Sam stays in the corner like he’s afraid to move.
“Come on.” I wave him over. “There’s plenty of space, silly.”
Sam bites down on his bottom lip, but after a few seconds, he moves to the futon, though on the opposite end.
I blink back tears. His shirt is ripped down the middle, revealing scary bruises—big ones, little ones, all different colors.
He’s the skinniest person I’ve ever seen.
Every rib sticks out. And he’s so pale, I can see his veins.
Maybe his momma is mean like mine. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say, so I just keep quiet.
Not long into the movie, his stomach rumbles.
“Are you hungry?”
He nods, bowing his head like he’s ashamed. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’ll make you something,” I chirp, standing. “Be right back.”
I dash across the slippery grass and quietly enter the house. After whipping up turkey sandwiches, I gather some other things for Sam, then sneak back to the tree house. He smiles timidly at me. Nervous flutters fill my belly. He’s a cute boy, even though he’s dirty and skinny.
“I have loads of goodies for you.” I sit beside him and hand him a large tote bag. “There are extra sandwiches for later, plus snacks, drinks, clothes, shoes, a first aid kit, and a towel so you can dry off.”
He stares at me like I’m the best person in the whole world. “Thank you for being nice to me,” he says, sadness creeping into his voice. “No one else ever is.”
I want to know everything about him. Why hasn’t he eaten today? Where are his parents? Where does he live? And most importantly, who hurt him, and should the police be called? Asking these questions could scare him away, and I’m not ready for him to go yet.
The first sandwich is gone in seconds, then Sam digs out another one. Once he swallows the last bite, he looks at me and a real smile appears on his face. “What’s your name?”
“Zilphia.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, the unexpected compliment starting a fire in my cheeks. “You-you have pretty eyes.”
He lowers his eyes and rummages through the bag, a flush creeping up his pale face. “Whose clothes are these?”
“My brother’s. I snagged them from the dryer, so they’re clean, but probably a bit too big for you.”
“Wow!” he exclaims, whipping out the expensive sneakers. “These are the new Thunderbolts.”
“Can you fit them?”
“Maybe, they’re a half size smaller than my shoe size, but they’ll work.” He looks happy and carefree at that moment, but then his smile suddenly melts into a thin line. “But I can’t take them.”
“Why?” I frown, confused.
“Brandi will just sell them to buy crank. She’s the daughter of my mother’s boyfriend.”
“Oh.” What is crank? It’s obviously something bad. Concern for his safety twists my belly into knots, but I don’t ask any more questions.
We watch the rest of the movie in silence while I clean and bandage his wounds. I feel his eyes on me, but every time I glance at him, he looks away. All too soon, the credits start to roll, but I want my new friend to stay a little longer.
I offer him the remote. “You choose the next movie.”
About an hour into the movie, my eyes get too heavy to keep open. I doze off and on until the sky begins to brighten. Next to me, Sam is fast asleep, the blanket tucked around his shoulders.
I gently nudge him on the arm. “Sam, it’s almost morning.”
He stretches and lets out a big yawn before his sad eyes land on me. “Well, I guess I better get going.”
I don’t want him to leave, and I can tell he doesn’t want to go either. I’m scared for him. What if we never see each other again? My tummy aches at the thought.
“You can come here whenever you need a safe place to hide,” I tell him.
His eyes fly to mine. “Really?”
“Of course. Do you have a cell phone?”
“No.” He looks down at his clutched hands.
I take his hand and lead him to the window. “My bedroom’s the one with the pink curtains. If you ever need me, just throw a rock.”
“Okay. Thank you for helping me.”
I hesitate. “Do you want to come back tonight?” If he’s here with me, I won’t have to worry about him being hungry or hurt.
He nods.
I smile and pull him into a tight hug. He doesn’t move at first. But then his thin arms slowly wrap around me, like he’s afraid he’ll break me—or himself.