CHAPTER 6
Devon
The sound was soft at first, then louder, calling to him in the underwater world of his dreams. Devon buried his head deeper in his pillows, but he couldn’t ignore it.
Then came the slam of the car door, the chirp of the alarm.
He’d know that sound anywhere.
Uncle Terrence.
Quickly Devon slipped out of bed and to the door of his room, listening. Maybe he’d dreamed it. He ducked his head around the corner, peered into Memaw’s room. Faint snores, then a long stop, then snores again.
Outside, he could hear the crunch of shoes on gravel, the telltale pop of twigs. For a moment, he debated sliding the deadbolt, keeping him out, but he knew Uncle T would only pound on the door, hard, then harder, then holler until he woke Memaw and the neighbors and anyone else within earshot.
If he let him in now, maybe Memaw would at least stay asleep till morning.
“Uncle Terrence?” He crept to the door, whispered.
The sound of cursing echoed faintly from behind the door as his uncle dropped something, scrambled for it.
Devon sighed, switched on the porch light. He turned the lock, creaked open the door.
“Ain’t you s’posed to be ’sleep?” Uncle T said, squinting his eyes at the light.
“Woke up to go to the bathroom and heard your car.” Devon stepped back to let him in, then bolted the door after him and stepped aside, keeping a wide gap between them. He knew better than to get within grabbing distance.
T cocked his head, and Devon could smell the night on him—booze and cigarettes, something else sour behind the cologne. He staggered, and Devon realized he was drunk. Or something.
“Memaw’s asleep, Uncle T. Do you need a place to sleep? Want a pillow? Some blankets?”
“Shoo, ain’t tired yet, boy.” He fumbled in his shirt pocket, pulled out a cigarette. “Want one?” T laughed at himself. “Started myself when I was your age, you know what I’m sayin’? What’re you now, fifteen?”
“Eleven. Uncle T, you’re not supposed to be smoking in the house. Memaw’s asthma.”
T sighed, flopped down on the couch, looked around like he was missing something.
Devon waited.
“Wha—where’s the TV?”
“It broke.”
“What the—you don’t have a television?”
“Not anymore, sir.”
T made a face, upped his voice an octave. “‘No, sir.’ Somebody rob y’all? What kind of house is this? Sound like Uncle T need to be steppin’ up round here.”
“Honestly it’s fine.” Devon peered at the wall clock. After two o’clock. He stifled a yawn. “I’m gonna head to bed. School tomorrow.”
He left T on the sofa muttering and looking at his cell phone.
Quietly, he snagged Memaw’s purse from the hall table, tucked it safely in his closet.
Last time T came by, his uncle had helped himself to a couple of fifties from her purse, said he’d come back the next day with more. That was weeks ago.
Devon twisted the little lock on his bedroom doorknob and got back under the covers, but sleep wouldn’t come for a long, long time.
◆◆◆
In the morning, he tried to slip out without waking anyone, but he found Uncle T and Memaw in the kitchen. Memaw was pouring him a cup of coffee, her gnarled hands shaking with age. T had stacks of bags and money lined up on the kitchen table, counting.
“Morning,” Devon muttered.
“Hush up, now, you made me lose count.” T shot him a glare, went back to the stacks.
Memaw kissed his head and motioned to the counter. She looked happy.
“Your Uncle T brought doughnuts. Help yourself, sugar.”
“No, thanks, Memaw. I’m not hungry.”
T brought a fist down on the table. “Too good for doughnuts now, boy? That’s straight-up whack. This the thanks I get for showin’ up, trying to take care of my family? What’re they teachin’ you down at that school?”
Devon watched Memaw lay a gentle hand on T’s shoulder.
“Now, Terrence, Devon’s said he’s not hungry—”
“How can a person not be hungry for a doughnut. You feel me? It’s a dang doughnut, for g—”
“They feed us at school, Uncle T.” Devon slipped his backpack on, gave Memaw a peck on the cheek. “See you tonight.”
“Got the Friday Night Giveaway tonight, Devon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You be safe now.”
Uncle T’s voice, going on and on about church and the giveaway, faded as Devon crunched down the driveway. Left it all behind.
He paused at Mama’s memory garden as he went, kissed his fingers and touched the smooth wooden cross.
He blinked hard as he gazed at the cross, at the tiny heart that used to be red and was now a faded brown, painted into the center.
Miss you, Mama. Miss you like mad. Carefully, he tugged at some of the thicker plants at the edge of the memory garden, the ones threatening to move in and overwhelm the others.
The bigger plants were like bullies, growing wild and fast during the hot months, trying to exert their might and power over the smaller ones.
But unlike bullies, these plants you couldn’t ignore and they’d get bored, go away.
You had to deal with these, rip them out at the root, or they’d take over.
He tossed the scraps into the trees, brushed his hands on his shorts, then headed for the bus stop.
“Uncle T’s bringin’ you into the family business, huh.” Marquis pursed his lips and jostled him as Devon approached.
Devon ignored him, crossed the street to stand by CJ and Shenise and her friend, the Latina girl with the braids and the skull and crossbones pin on her backpack.
“What’s that for?” he asked her, pointed to the pin.
She shrugged. “My tio gave it to me when we moved here. Don’t mean nothin’.”
“Just asking. You going to the enrichment program this summer?”
She gave him a look like he was crazy. “What enrichment program?”
Shenise rolled her eyes. “You know, Gabby. The thing I was telling you about yesterday. It’s free, right Devon?”
“Yeah. Rev Bryant set it all up with the town. Starts the Monday after school lets out. Free lunch, free everything.”
“Oh, that.” Gabby let her tongue loll out of her mouth. “Who wants to go to school for the summer?”
“Hey mamasita, careful with that tongue,” one of Marquis’ friends called out, laughing. Gabby held up a fist, and they laughed harder.
“Come on, Gab. Everyone’s going. I mean, what else are we gonna do? Beats hanging out with them all summer.” Shenise shot a glance at the trio on the corner.
CJ looked at Devon. “I’ll be there.”
Devon nodded. “Cool. Me, too.”
The bus pulled up, and as they piled on, Devon could see his uncle’s car cruise slowly by, low bass pumping from the speakers. Then T gunned the engine and roared off.
Devon watched the car until it turned the corner and the bus passed it by.
Don’t come back. We’re fine on our own.