Free Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) by T.I. Lowe

was made.
    “Get me a
box of pudding from the pantry and a small bunch of bananas,” Miss May ordered.
I did as she asked but wasn’t too thrilled with it. She knew that each one of
us young’uns hated a banana. It was the one thing I think we all agreed to
never eat. I personally couldn’t get over the mushy texture and always ended up
gagging.
    I handed
her the pudding and watched as she combined it together with a white powder and
milk. “What are you doing, Miss May?” I asked confused. I had never seen her
make this particular dessert.
    “I’m making
Evan a treat,” she answered as she began slicing the gross bananas into the
pudding mixture.
    “Why?” I
gagged at the gross, sickly sweet scent of the fruit. I took a few steps away
from the table and covered my nose.
    “Cause you
done ‘n acted rude and I ain’t standin’ for it.” She cut me a look. It was as
though she was trying to get me riled up with her for some reason—and she knew
it didn’t take much to rile me up. “You gonna give it to him with no lip.”
    I crossed
my arms and huffed out, “Well, I ain’t giving that devil a treat. You can forget
it!”
    “If you
don’t give it to him and apologize for your mean self, then I’m gonna take to
beatin’ you like yo’ daddy never has.” She crushed some vanilla wafers on top
and placed a lid on the plastic container. As she handed it over to me, Miss
May instructed, “Now get yo’ white butt out my kitchen and don’t come back ‘til
you deliver this.”
    I snatched
it out of her hand and stomped out the door. I eventually made it home with the
vile dessert. I may have stopped along the way to spit in it… I stormed into
the house, slung it on a shelf in the fridge, and slammed the door shut with a
satisfying bang. Evan and the boys were at the kitchen table, looking at some
surf magazine. My beating and a banging drew their attention. I whipped around
to leave and found them all eyeing me curiously.
    “What’s
that in the container, Savannah?” John Paul asked.
    “Nasty
banana pudding,” I grumbled. The boys grumbled their own disapproval for the
gross treat as well.
    “Why the
crap you bring junk like that home?” John Paul complained.
    “I can’t
believe you would even bring that mess in this house,” Bradley commented with a
wrinkled up nose. We Thortons are something serious over our distaste for
bananas.
    “Miss May made me,” I muttered.
    Evan hopped
up from the table in excitement. “I love banana pudding.” He beamed in delight.
With that declaration, he grabbed a large spoon from the drawer and retrieved
the dessert from the fridge. He sat back down and tore into the pudding like he
hadn’t eaten in days. Me and the boys started gagging from the awful odor and
made quick exits—them slamming the back door with their hasty getaway and me
running upstairs. I was still mad at Miss May, so I decided to hide out in the
attic for the rest of the afternoon instead of going back to her. It was
stifling hot up there, but it was a sure guarantee no one would look for me
there—one person in particular. A sweat-drenched afternoon sounded heavenly
compared to the alternative.
    Later that
night, I heard a very sick Evan in the bathroom across the hall from my room
moaning in pain. He whined about it being the worst stomach pains he had ever
had. His stomach virus lasted only
until the next day, but he was too weak to bother me or Julia for another day
after that. I was thankful it allowed me a brief reprieve from him—thanks to
Miss May and her mystery ingredients. Needless to say, the leftover banana
pudding made its way into the trashcan without Evan indulging in it anymore. I
think he knew what she did. There was no love lost between the two of them.

 
    When
Thursday rolled around, the boys boomed with excitement. They had been invited
on a three-day camping trip with the Cox family down the street. The Coxes
acted like they enjoyed spending time together and