Needy Little Things(41)
“Why were you shouting for Deja?”
“I thought she was here.”
“Why would she be here?”
“I thought someone … put her here.” It feels ridiculous when I say it. But part of me hoped it was true. Because despite the disdain on his face when he spoke of Ms. Jess, I don’t believe Philly would hurt anyone. I don’t believe he could. If he’d somehow put Deja here, I for sure would have found her safe and alive.
Philly’s voice finally reaches us, echoing through the trees. Charlie’s mouth pops open. “You thought my uncle…”
“Your uncle?”
She nods slowly, like I’m dumb or something. “You thought I was crashing in a random dude’s treehouse?”
“No. I don’t know. I didn’t know what to think.”
She clicks her tongue. “To be fair, he doesn’t know I’m up here.”
“Sariyah!” Philly shouts, closer now.
“Well, he’s about to.”
“That’s okay. He won’t care. I just wanted to avoid talking about Uncle Danny.”
“I’m sorry, Charlie.” I leach every bit of sincerity in my bones into the words. They land heavy and thick, and I hope her subconscious somehow processes why. “These past few days must have been hell for you and your family.”
She grins darkly. “Hell is pretty standard for us. But yeah. It’s been worse than usual.” She briefly rests her hand on my shoulder. “Worse for all of us. Shall we go talk to Uncle Philly before he has a heart attack, too?”
“Sariyah!” This time, it’s Jude’s voice echoing through the trees. He must have heard all the shouting.
“Let’s go.”
I remove the two triple-A batteries from the remote, place them next to her snacks, then follow her down the ladder.
* * *
The first thing I do when I get home is slip the hair comb Philly gave me into Santa Bag. I don’t imagine he’d mind. Someone will need it. After that, I look up Charlie online and end up finding a link to a fundraiser started by her mother for Daniel T. Irvine’s medical expenses.
You may have heard my brother Danny’s name in the news recently. I want the world to know that all charges against him were dropped. The entire thing was a horrible misunderstanding and the Irvine family holds no ill will against Jessica Kent or vice versa. Our dear Danny had been battling severe heart disease for over a decade. Doctors had warned us of his need for a coronary bypass, but he couldn’t get the funds together in time. Danny wished to be put to rest quietly, so there will be no public service, but we are raising funds to pay off his medical debt. Please, if you have the means, even a dollar will go a long way and be greatly appreciated. If you cannot give financially, your prayers for our family are more than enough.
Thank you,
Melissa McKinny
The progress bar on the ten-thousand-dollar goal is barely visible. There have been only two donations. Ten dollars from a Stephen McKinny and five hundred from Jessica Kent with no comment added. I scan the post again. Melissa McKinny should check with Philly about that no ill will part.
I click on the green donate button and give twenty dollars anonymously. It feels like nothing. It’s not enough to move the progress bar and not enough to relieve any guilt.
My phone dings.
Jojo
If I do your chores until summer break, can you give me some money?
Me
No. And you’re only supposed to use your phone for emergencies.
Mama got him some kid-friendly phone that can’t do anything but call and text certain numbers.
Jojo
This is an emergency! Riyah pleeeeeease
Me
What do you need money for?
Jojo
For zoo camp! I asked Mama but she said no.
She said it costs too much money.
I could have told him that much.
Me
I’ll talk to her
Jojo
Okay but you have to hurry because you gotta pay by Sunday
I send him a thumbs-up. He replies with a dozen smiley faces and prayer hands, and I frown at them. Mama’s not likely to be up for negotiation by Sunday. Her highs and lows are measured in weeks, sometimes months. I’m confident I can talk her into allowing him to attend by summer break, but I’m going to have to come up with the money myself. The progress bar on the fundraiser taunts me as a seed plants itself deep in my brain. A seed that has tried to take root there a hundred times before. Finally, I allow it. I don’t have a job, and who knows when my final Sweet Pea’s check will hit my account, but I’ll always have a way to make money. If I hustle my ability for cash, Jojo could go to camp. I could donate to Danny’s fundraising account, start one for Deja—do some good as penance for the bad that I have no control over. I crack my knuckles and pat my cheeks, trying to physically rid myself of the idea. This exact thing ended in disaster for Grandma Bryant, but she tried to make a career out of it. I just need a temporary side hustle. Malcolm gets onto me about the missed opportunity about once a month.
Maybe it’s time I follow his advice.
CHAPTER 17
“Do we have to do this?” Malcolm asks as I drag him down the sidewalk toward Ms. Jasmine’s house.