“Oh yeah?” Willie answers. “That boy is a rock head. Don’t let him get you in no trouble.” I ain’t sure what he means by that, but I nod.
“Willie! You up at the spades table!” a woman calls from the picnic table farthest away, where she sits with two other men. She is wearing a long dress that brushes the ground, and giant hoop earrings almost the size of her head. Her voice is powerful and the men at the table sit up straighter when she speaks. They got a deck of cards right in the middle of the table. One of the men shuffles, and then the other man cuts the deck into two halves, putting one on top of the other.
“Gotta go,” says Willie. “I been waiting all day to beat my cousins at spades.” He smiles at me and Nia, then walks away. When he smiles, I can finally see how he looks like Momma.
“That boy Willie,” says Granddaddy once he’s gone, “always been the one I had to watch.” Again, I ain’t quite sure what he means by that, but again I nod.
“Are Momma’s other brothers gon’ be here?” I ask.
“Just Willie and Leroy,” Granddaddy responds. “Calvin left Michigan for California awhile back, and Tony joined the army as soon as he turned eighteen. He’s stationed at Patch Barracks in Germany now. Stuttgart.” I can’t tell if Granddaddy seems sad or mad bout this last part, but I don’t get much time to wonder. “You girls hungry?” Granddaddy asks, and we both nod enthusiastically. As we walk, I’m stuck thinking bout Momma having brothers; brothers who are all around the world now, living their own lives apart from one another and apart from Granddaddy. We might be far apart now, but I can’t imagine a future where me, Momma, and Nia ain’t close.
Granddaddy hobbles over to the big table with all the food, and me and Nia follow close behind. There are aluminum pans filled with ribs, some covered in barbecue sauce and some plain. There are at least three different kinds of chicken: chicken wings in barbecue sauce, grilled drumsticks with black marks stamped into the skin, chicken thighs smoking from the grill. Our greens are still covered in pans beside the meat. There are also four pans of bubbling macaroni and cheese, two big bowls of potatoes—one mashed and one cut into little squares, three kinds of green beans, and a whole table filled with nothin’ but dessert. I ain’t ever seen so much food in my life. Back at the motel, felt like we were eating less and less every day. Now my stomach growls at the sight of so much delicious food just waiting on me to eat.
“Gon’ and get you a plate,” says Granddaddy. I wonder if he notices how hungry I look. I don’t waste no time, though. I find a stack of paper plates and take one from the top, which I fill quickly with two ribs, a chicken drumstick, heaps of greens, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and green beans. I wanna ask for a cob of corn, but the apron man with the cigarette looks kinda scary. I take my plate and sit down next to Nia, who made a much smaller plate than mine. She only picked two chicken wings, a small pile of macaroni and cheese, and a bigger pile of greens. I wonder if she put all them greens on her plate to make Granddaddy happy.
We eat quiet, cept for all the chewing. Momma always tells me to stop smacking when I chew with my mouth open, but today she ain’t here to stop me. I chew nice and loud, rolling all the food over and over in my mouth to let the flavors seep into my tongue. Everything is delicious, but I like the greens best of all. Mostly cause me and Nia and Granddaddy made ’em.
Nia finishes her plate first, but even with twice as much food, I ain’t far behind. I wanna ask for seconds, but Nia jumps up and throws her plate in the trash, so I do the same.
“Granddaddy, can we go play?” Nia asks sweetly. I smile cause she said we. That means she wants me to come, too.
“Yeah, gon’ ’head,” says Granddaddy with his mouth full of half-chewed ribs. He has barbecue sauce on all his fingers and a little bit on his face, but for some reason he don’t use the clean napkin beside his plate.
“Let’s go,” Nia says to me. I quickly obey, running behind her long stride. Just then, I remember that Javon never came back with his brother, like he said he would. I guess Nia thinking the same, cause we head that way.
“Not too far,” Granddaddy remembers to yell after us. Just like Momma.
“Okay!” I bet Granddaddy can barely hear Nia’s response, cause we almost to the basketball court now.
I count four, five, six, seven boys on the court playing basketball. And a crowd more watching from the sidelines. Javon is in the group of boys that ain’t playing. He sits on the bench yelling at anybody that touches the ball.
“Come on, defense! Let’s go! Get it, Jesse!” I can’t tell who he’s cheering for, cause Javon is yelling at ’em all. I scan the court and wonder which boy is Jesse. My cousin.
“Foul!” A boy even lighter-skinned than me with reddish freckles sprinkled on his cheeks yells from his spot on the ground. Looks like another boy pushed him down. “Dammit, Jesse!” I can’t believe this little boy, probably bout my age, said a bad word. I turn my head back and forth, but ain’t no grown-ups around, and don’t none of the other kids seem to care. Not even Nia, and I bet she one of the oldest here, cept for some of the tall boys on the court.
The boys stop playing to help freckle-face still laying on the ground. Well, some of the boys help him. The others just laugh and walk off the court.
“Damn, Skeeter. Always messing up a good game!” Looks like Javon be cussin’， too. He stands to help the boy on the court, who act like he don’t want no help at first, but reaches his hand out toward Javon anyway. Javon slaps his hand and laughs.
“That was a foul,” whines Skeeter, still on the ground. I wonder if he might be hurt for real, but then he gets up and limps over to the bench. Javon notices me and Nia standing on the sidelines and heads over. My hands are suddenly wet and sweaty, so I wipe ’em on my shorts.
“Hey, Skeeter! Come meet my cousins!” Javon smiles from ear to ear as he walks over. His smile is kinda like his daddy’s smile, which is kinda like my momma’s smile. I’m just meeting him, but that smile makes him feel like home.
Javon introduces me and Nia to Skeeter. Nia smiles a fake smile; she’s watching the game on the court. I smile a real smile, quick, then put my head down.
“Nice to meet you,” says Skeeter. He reaches out to shake my hand, which is still kinda wet, but his palms are sweaty, too.
“You all right?” I ask him, shyly.
“Oh, you saw that foul? Yeah, I’m cool.” He still seems upset, but Javon chuckles a little bit. “What’s funny?” retorts Skeeter.
“Nothing.” Javon laughs. “Just you always crying foul!” The more Javon laughs, the redder Skeeter’s cheeks turn. I ain’t ever seen Black people whose skin could turn red like white people’s, but then again, Skeeter is also the lightest Black person I ever seen.
“Which one is your brother?” I ask Javon. He looks around for a few seconds, then points at the water fountain, where a tall boy splashes his head in the water.
“There he is,” Javon answers, then yells, “Jesse!” The boy looks around and Javon waves him over our way. Jesse is much taller than Javon and lighter-skinned, but they got the same face and hair. Cept Jesse is starting to grow a tiny mustache that pokes out from his upper lip like a fuzzy slug. I can’t believe he ain’t quite fourteen yet, cause he looks much older than Nia.