Bent Road - Lori Roy [72]
Daniel starts to ask why early-season pheasant are stupid but stops because a group of kids breaks out laughing. At first, he thinks they’re laughing at Ian, but the kids are sitting two tables over and couldn’t hear Ian talking about Jack Mayer and Nelly Simpson and late-season pheasant.
“What are they all laughing at?” Ian asks, putting the rest of his lunch back in the brown bag his mom packed it in and squishing it down with both hands.
“Don’t know,” Daniel says, thinking Ian looks a little blue. Or maybe it’s the gray light from an overcast sky. He turns toward the laughter as a couple of kids at the next table stand. He leans to the left and sees her.
Two tables down, sitting by herself as she always does at lunch, Evie is wearing one of Aunt Eve’s dresses—the blue one, the one with ruffles and a satin bow, the one she said was her favorite. The dress is too big and falls off her small, white shoulders. She tugs at it, gathering up the collar where it has torn away at the seam. She smiles as if she doesn’t hear the kids laughing. She smiles as if Aunt Eve is sitting across the table from her. Daniel throws down his sandwich, jumps up and runs two tables over.
“Hi, Daniel,” Evie says.
Turning to the kids sitting at the other end of Evie’s table, Daniel says, “Shut up. All of you, shut up.” Then he looks back at Evie. “What are you doing?”
“Eating lunch,” she says, laying out two napkins—setting a place for two people.
“Why are you wearing that dress?”
Evie smiles and shoves a piece of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in her mouth. “It’s my favorite. Aunt Eve’s favorite, too.”
“You shouldn’t be wearing that, Evie. It’s all torn and it’s not yours.”
Two tables away, Ian is watching them. He still looks blue.
“You’re going to get in trouble.”
Evie takes another bite and dabs one corner of her mouth with her napkin. “No, I won’t. Don’t be silly.” She stands to show Daniel how she rolled up the middle of the dress and tied it off with the sash. “See, I made it fit. I fixed it myself.”
Daniel stands and holds out his arms, blocking the view of Evie modeling her dress. “Sit down already. Does Mama know you’re wearing that?”
“Aunt Eve said I could.”
“Aunt Eve said?”
Evie nods. “Yes, Aunt Eve said.”
Chapter 21
The school bus hisses and slows near Daniel’s house. Holding onto the back of the seat in front of him, he gathers his books and lunch-box, stands and waits until the bus has stopped before stepping into the aisle.
“Now, you’re sure Evie wasn’t meant to take the bus home today?” Mr. Slear, the bus driver, asks.
“No, sir. Guess my mama picked her up early.”
The bus door slides open and Mr. Slear says, “She not feeling well?”
“Yes, sir. Not feeling well at all.”
Daniel waits at the end of the gravel drive until Mr. Slear pops the bus into gear and drives away. Once it has disappeared over the hill, leaving behind a trail of gray exhaust, he walks up the drive. The tailgate of Dad’s truck peeks out from behind the house. He has come home early. The only other time Dad came home early from work was when the first black boy in Detroit called Elaine. Now he’s home because Evie wore Aunt Eve’s dress to school.
After a few more steps, Daniel sees all of Dad’s truck. It’s parked in its normal spot. Mama’s car is parked next to the truck and the spot where Jonathon normally parks is empty. Daniel smiles at the empty spot until he hears a low rumble. He takes a few more slow steps. There it is again. Almost a groan. Rounding the back of the house and seeing nothing, he stops and stomps his feet, trying to warm his toes. The cold air burns his lungs and the inside of his throat. Inching closer to the back of the house, he hears it again. He takes a few more steps. Aunt Ruth stands at the far end of the screened-in porch. She must hear it, too.
“What should I do, Arthur?” Aunt Ruth says. “What do you need?”
Aunt Ruth’s voice is quiet as if she’s trying not to scare something. Daniel shifts direction and walks toward the gap between the garage and the far side of the house.