“Just for a minute,” he says. Me and Charlotte are already halfway cross the street before he can even finish the sentence. He runs behind us and yells, “Wait up!”
Once we get cross the street, I ain’t sure what to do. I promised Charlotte a book, but now I’m feeling shy bout them seeing inside Granddaddy’s house. I think bout the singing tar-baby statues and the portrait of Black Jesus hanging by the door. “Let’s go to the field,” I say quickly, hoping they don’t ask bout going inside. I wipe sweat from my forehead while I wait for them to agree. In my mind, I think of what I’m gon’ say if they do ask to go inside. But, luckily, they follow me without questions. We trudge back to the field—me in front walking slow, Bobby beside me, and Charlotte skipping behind—with the songs of birds ringing in our ears.
“Look at all the flowers!” Charlotte squeals as they pop into view. The wind blows just a little, just enough to make the colors dance. The air is thick with a sweet perfume. Bobby and Charlotte run screeching into the field like they invading a fortress, so I do, too. I press my fingertips against the same flowers I been touching all summer, but they feel different now. Like they just now came alive.
“Wanna play?” Charlotte asks, and I bob my head up and down, quick. I’ve only been alone back here, chasing butterflies and making up games to play by myself. Now me and Charlotte chase butterflies together, running in circles til we’re both dizzy and laughing. Then we play a game with Bobby that we all make up. The sky’s bursting with shining light and fat clouds. I been happy before, but this is my new best day in Lansing.
“I’m going to the pond!” Bobby yells, and I’m bout to follow, but Charlotte tugs my hand.
“Wanna look for caterpillars?”
A giant smile stretches cross my face as I nod. Charlotte keeps holding my hand for a few more seconds, and I imagine me and her as Anne and Diana in Green Gables. Real-life bosom buddies.
“Over here,” Charlotte yelps. While I was lost in my thoughts, Charlotte was already finding caterpillars.
“Where?” I ask, joining her near a giant rock.
“Here,” she says, pointing to the base of the rock, where a whole handful of caterpillars crawl and squirm. We take turns picking them up and passing them to each other. I think bout goin’ to get my mayonnaise jar, but seeing how much fun we having, I think it’s better to let these caterpillars keep living right where they at.
“Me and my sister found some caterpillars when we first moved here,” I say to Charlotte, remembering that day with Nia that feels so far away now.
“Moved here?” Charlotte tilts her head. “I thought you said you were just visiting.”
I try to hide my face before Charlotte can tell I’m embarrassed. “Oh,” I answer, “well, yeah, we just visiting. Our momma still gon’ come back for us. I just don’t know when yet.”
“Oh,” Charlotte replies, and that’s all she says. We both go back to looking for caterpillars, but the space between us feels smaller now, like it’s packed tight and cramped with all the stuff we ain’t gon’ say.
“My daddy died, from doin’ drugs,” I whisper. Just a little bit of the space opens up. “And we came here after, cause we lost our house.” I take a deep breath, then let it out. The space stretches with my breath. “I don’t know when my momma gon’ come back, or even if she’s gon’ come back at all.” The space is as wide open as the field now.
“Oh,” Charlotte says again. She chews her hair and looks over at Bobby, looks up at the tree, looks down at the grass. Looks everywhere but at me. I think maybe she don’t wanna be my friend anymore, but then she reaches out her hand. I take it and feel a little squeeze.
“Our dad is gone, too,” Charlotte says, still looking at the ground.
I wait before I speak. “Did he die?”
Charlotte shakes her head no. “They got a divorce.”
I don’t know much bout divorce, cept what I hear at church. And lots of my classmates at school had parents who were divorced, and they would talk bout how their parents would fight. Once, after Momma and Daddy had a fight, I asked Daddy if him and Momma would get a divorce. He laughed, then looked me straight in the eye and said, “Do I look like a fool to you?”
The memory makes me smile, but I quickly fix my face, so Charlotte don’t think I’m smiling bout her daddy being gone. “I’m sorry,” I finally say.
Charlotte squeezes my hand one more time, then lets it go. “You’re it!” she suddenly yells, racing off toward Bobby, who’s still by the pond. He looks up and sees Charlotte, then they both take off running away from me. As they run, they take turns making silly faces and yelling jokes. Me, I can’t stop smiling. Smiling cause I got these new friends, and cause Charlotte’s the first person I told the whole truth to, bout us and bout Daddy. It feels good to finally have somebody to talk to, somebody to trust.
“Bobby!” We all hear the scream at the same time. The way she yells is like she’s been yelling awhile, but ain’t none of us hear til now. Bobby freezes at the shrill sound of his momma’s voice, then turns his head quick to Charlotte. She already got tears in her eyes.
“Let’s go,” says Bobby, pulling Charlotte by the arm. Neither one of ’em speaks to me, or even looks my way. They just leave, like they was never even there. I sit down, right in the middle of the grass, and taste the salt on my tongue before I even know the tears have left my eyes. I wipe ’em away with the back of my hand, quick. I’m tired of crying and I’m tired of people leaving. I get back up, my shorts wet from the grass, and run frowning back to the house. For once, I’m gon’ be the one that leaves.
It’s always quiet in Granddaddy’s house, but this quiet, now, feels deeper. I pass through the living room and the quiet hangs on all the stuff there—the empty wicker chair, unopened Bible, blank TV screen. I can almost feel the noise begging to enter and fill the spaces with life. But ain’t nobody around, cept me. And now I’m gon’ leave like everybody else.
I go to the bedroom and exchange my sandals for socks and gym shoes—still muddy from the drive here with Momma. Then grab my old backpack and pack it with clothes, my toothbrush, my two Anne books, and a small blanket. My rock collection’s too big to fit, so I decide to take just three rocks—the special ones, from Bobby. I start to leave the room but go back and add my first Anne book to the other two. It’s older than the others and more raggedy, plus I already read it, but it’s still my best book.
In the kitchen I pack crackers, a can of Vienna sausages, cookies, and fruit—two oranges and an apple. I grab a thermos that I fill with water, then I look around and think. It’s strange cause I been looking for money all summer and ain’t once thought to look here, but most grown-ups hide money around the house; I just don’t know where Granddaddy keeps his. I look in jars, drawers, on top of the fridge. I check the bathroom and the living room, but I can’t find no money. Granddaddy’s bedroom is in the back of the house and I ain’t ever been in there cause I ain’t ever had no reason. But now I do. I tug the door open and look around.